#It's usually like a dog with mandibles or some shit

[lunasun]

You didn't do enough. Cover them in fur and give them mammalian ears and nose.

trying to break into the furry scene what do you guys think of my newest ocs

[wahbegan]

I don’t know why i’m so fascinated with dissecting and best harnessing arachnophobia for horror purposes but okay here we go i’ve done it i’ve broken the fear of spiders down into its five main components. For this exercise, we’re ignoring temperament and actual danger of spiders because, as any arachnophobe you’ve ever told “that one’s harmless just leave it alone” will attest, it doesn’t factor in. Let us begin.

1. Angularity: It can’t be too round, or it becomes a cutesy children’s character. It must be acute, but too many sharp angles and it becomes a geometry monster and we enter silly town. Spider with maximum optimal angularity for invoking fear: Nephila family (Orb weavers)

2. Bristliness, probably the least important, but bristliness is an important component, particularly on the legs. Interestingly, a fuzzy enough abdomen MAY decrease the human fear response, but leg bristles are almost a requirement. Optimal bristle for invoking fear: Theraphosidae family (Tarantulas)

3. Legginess: For clarification, the adjective “legginess” here refers to both length and number of legs. This factor is unique in its simplicity, in that it extends in one direction to infinity. The leggier something is without increasing body length, the worse it is. Bar none. This may even be where arachnophobia stems from. Observe, if you will, neither spiders so sort of cheating, but the only two creatures on earth feared and hated for legginess alone. An arachnid of the order Opiliones (Harvestman), and, the single best example and inspiration for this thesis: Scutigera Coleoptrata, better known as the humble house centipede.  

4. Size: Now, for the big (tee hee) one. Like angularity, there is a golden zone. it’s tempting to just go BIGGER IS BETTER but a spider the size of a yorkshire terrier in your bedroom is much scarier than Shelob. Scale to characters is everything. If you’re going horror, hand-sized to dog-sized spider is best. Larger and we enter Sci-Fi or Fantasy Town. The spider has to be sized, whether bigger or smaller, in such a way that it looks like it’s directly proportional to the protagonist. For example!

Tarantula (1955)

Still has some merit, but the size of the thing is so absurd as to render interaction between it and a human directly unlikely 

vs.

Enemy (2013)

The fact that this is his....or, well his doppelganger’s....look it’s not important, the fact this is his apartment is part of why this bit’s so unnerving, but there’s a lot to be said about how the thing is directly scaled to Gyllenhaal as well. A much smaller spider than the eponymous Tarantula, but conversely a much more effective one. 

5. Alien Face: No, not alien like that, ya dingus. No emotion, ideally, should be able to be read into a spider’s face, projected or not. Multiple eyes are usually necessary, or tiny, completely black ones that make it look almost eyeless. Large mandibles or fangs are good, although I would caution against giving the spider jaws and/or a throat a la Shelob and IT in the miniseries as this makes it less spider-ish, and is unnecessary. Now, when making a face truly alien, keep in mind the human tendency to project a human face onto objects where there is none and design accordingly. Consider the Salticidae (Jumping spider) face

That thing’s fucking adorable!! It does have multiple eyes, true, but the two center ones are what your eye is drawn to, and not only does it look like it has an expression, it looks like it has a fucking kawaii surprised expression and shops at god damned Lush. 

Right? Now let’s look at Deinopidae, the family of Ogre-Faced Spiders

The center eyes have an almost identical composition if you just cut them out and put them next to each other, but because of the surrounding face, the eyes appear angry and hostile. 

The secret is to apply the angularity principle to the face as well as the body. Unpleasant angles or a facial construction so unusual it can’t be made into a roughly human face, unusual eye placement either tiny or huge black eyes, large fangs these are all things a good shit-your-pants spiders’ face should have.

Then, of course, there’s outside factors that influence the spider’s effectiveness. The sound it makes, the movement, the environment it’s in, etc. BUT on a PURELY visual level, i think those are the 5 keys to unlocking the secret to designing a spider that will drive an arachnophobe completely mad

Angularity, Bristliness, Leginess, Size, and Alien Face

[thecandywrites]

Isthantari- The Series- Miranda

I’M  SO EXCITED YOU GUYS!! Ok so please welcome Miranda, who belongs to @cerealpandas who is a vet and has some serious scaring due to a car accident. And I would just like to say, not all Jika are awkward, some ARE SMOOTH AS FUCK. So here you go! I REALLY hope you like it! And I’m sorry this took so long but we had a funeral over the weekend and life went sideways on me a little. But FINALLY it’s done. Enjoy. 

Isthantari Series- Miranda and Jabril

You were at work when a Jika came in, carrying a kitten, cradled to it’s chest. The kitten obviously was just in some kind of fight and the Jika was buzzing in what would be universally understood as distress.

“Please? Can you help me?” The Jika pleaded as he came and showed the receptionist the kitten.

“Oh my goodness, yes, Miranda!” Julie, your receptionist called out before you came from your office to see what was going on and your heart broke.

“What happened?” You asked as you took the little kitten into your hands to check it over.

“I was flying over an alley and there was a dog trying to eat it.” The Jika answered.

“Well thank you so much for trying to save it! Come on,” you invited as you walked back into an exam room and looked it over and started dressing it’s wounds and examining it and slowly but surely the Jika’s distressed buzzing softened until it stopped all together.

“Please, I’ll pay whatever it costs to repair it.” The Jika offered and you smiled appreciatively at him for his generosity.

“It’ll be ok, it’s not that bad, I think you got it just in the nick of time.” You reassured him before you started treating the poor thing for fleas and trying to assess if it was old enough for it’s shots yet and figured it was close enough and began preparing it for that as well before you gave it a little bath to wash all the fleas and dirt off.

“There you are.” You cooed to the little calico kitten as you dried it off.

“Are you surrendering it? Or would you like to adopt it?” You posed to him once you were finished.

“Jika never surrender,” The Jika informed you proudly. “I’ll happily adopt it, um, what..do I need to do though?” He answered.

“Well, for starters, you should probably name her.” You grinned.

“Oh...it’s a female, uh, Kabira.” He decided.

“Ok, well, she’ll need food, a litter box, a scratching post probably, a collar, some toys. How much do you work? Because she’ll need to be handled a lot to make sure she’ll be tame.” You answered as you pet the kitten affectionately.  

“Oh.” He answered as he considered that.

“Come on, we have what you need up front.” You invited as you walked with him to the front and set him up with what he needed as he gathered a pet carrier and put what he needed in it before your receptionist had him fill out some paperwork where you learned his name was Jabril.

“Thank you so much Dr. Miranda Gonzales.” He thanked you earnestly.

“No problem.” You smiled as you watched him take a business card and consider it carefully.

He slid a card and paid for everything before he started cooing to Kabira in the Jika native language as he left your veterinarian office. Kabira nestled to his chest in two of his four arms.

“Well he was nice.” Julie sighed wistfully, thinking Jabril was a dream boat already.

“Yeah he was, I’ve never seen a Jika like him before, have you? His black had that purple sheen to it, it was really pretty.” You noted.

“Yeah, usually it’s green.” She agreed before she looked at the paperwork.

“Oh my god,” Julie giggled.

“What?” You asked.

“He’s a prince, look, he put it on the paper work, Prince Jabril Kizu, it’s even on his receipt, he’s royalty, probably why he didn’t sound so robotic like most of them do.” Julie shrugged.

“Also why he could afford to get that little kitten the best of everything.” You found yourself grinning.

“If he’s single, I call dibs.” Julie giggled.

“And what would Mike think of that?” You put to her, reminding her of her husband.

“Oh he’ll understand.” Julie cackled and waived off as you rolled your eyes.

“Although if he’s single, I could push you towards him.” Julie smiled mischievously.

“Yeah, no, I doubt that would ever happen in a million years.” You snorted a laugh.

Your life returned to normal for a whole two days until Jabril came back in, Kabira nestled inside what you could only call a cocoon on a sling made of the same material across his chest and looking absolutely happy and content and already much better.

“Is everything ok?” You asked as he came in.

“I came back because I was worried her cuts were not healing properly.” Jabari explained as he carefully pulled the kitten out of it’s cocoon to show you as you looked her over.

“Her cuts are doing great actually.” You reassured him.

“Oh, I was thinking she would heal faster. Jika only need a matter of hours to heal.” Jabari explained.

“Well here on earth, things don’t heal that fast, injuries can take days, weeks, months or even years to heal and sometimes there are things that can’t be healed, but give her just a couple more days and she’ll be as good as new.” You assured him. “I like your sling, is that a Jika thing?” You asked as you gestured to it as he took the kitten back and pet her and moved his mandibles out of the way so he could kiss her head and nuzzle her before she went back into the cocoon and got comfy again.

“Yes, I made it for her,” Jabari beamed proudly.

“Out of what?” You asked.

“Oh my silk, we spin silk like your earth silk worms do, usually we reserve it to spin a protective cocoon around the queen but since I’m not one of her consorts, I’m not expected to do that, I’m free to spin whatever I wish out of my silk and what better purpose that for making this for my Kabira?” He smiled fondly as he pet Kibira’s head and scratched under her tiny chin grinning when she purred in delight and kneaded the inside of the cocoon.

“Wow, can I touch it?” You asked as you reached out towards it before he closed the distance between you and you got to pet it. It was insanely soft. Like softer than silk or satin or anything else and you reached inside and noticed how the inside was retaining heat so that Kabira was cozy and comfy.

“It’s amazing, I wish I could have these for all the kittens that come in.” You mused aloud. “That wasn’t a request by the way, it was just wishful thinking, aloud.” You quickly added with a nervous laugh.  

“It would be my honor to make some for you.” Jabari added.

“Really?” You asked in amazement.

“How many will you need?” He asked.

“At least a dozen.” Julie answered from behind you.

“Consider it done.” Jabril nodded. “I will need a little bit of time to make them, maybe by tomorrow.” He added.

“Oh, take all the time you need. You can make them that fast?” You asked in shock.

“Yes. I made this for her in only a few minutes.” Jabril explained.

“Can I pay you for them though? I’ve never heard of Jika silk, I imagine it can’t be cheap or easy for you to make, or is there special foods you need to eat to make it?” You asked.

“No, it’ll be my gift to you. To show my appreciation for taking such good care of Kabira when she needed your assistance.” He insisted.

“Well, thank you so, so much, I really appreciate it, even if you can only make a few or even one, I’ll be happy.” You thanked him earnestly.

“Well you could go out to dinner with me,” he invited smoothly and you nearly choked on your spit.

“Yes! She’s free to go to dinner with you tonight.” Julie agreed for you as you turned around and gave her a meaningful glare as she smiled bright enough to shame the sun and gave you an encouraging look back. But Jabril was looking at you for the answer.

“Uh..sure?” You agreed. Holy shit was this really happening right now?!

“You can pick her up at 6.” Julie offered again.

“Yeah, sure, six is fine.” You found yourself agreeing to that.

“I’ll see you at six then.” Jabril nodded in agreement before he left again.

When he left you turned on your toes to face your secretary who was smiling so cheese-ily big and clapping softly but quickly in excitement.

“That wasn’t cool, I don’t need help with my personal life.” You growled at her.

“Yes you do! It’s been ten years! And almost three since your last date!” Julie argued.

“Julie! Look at me! I’m a middle aged, fat, widowed and scarred to fucking hell! He’s a fucking prince for crying out loud!” You argued as you gestured to the left side of your face and body, scarred because of a horrific car accident that took your husband. The scarring you sustained had made you withdrawn and self conscious and the last date which was in fact three years ago had been on a blind date your sister had set you up on and it had been a disaster. So you resigned yourself to being married to your work and loving animals because they never judged you based on appearance.

“And yet, he asked you out. I don’t think any of that matters to him. You heard him say that Jika never surrender, the Jika are warriors, some of the best in the universe. I’m sure he’s seen some shit by now and I’m sure he understands that scars happen.” Julie reassured you and you huffed when you realized she had a point.

“So, go home at lunch, put on some makeup and bring some nice clothes to change into after work.” Julie advised as she gestured to your scrubs.

“Fine,” you groaned as your stomach knotted as you stomped back to your office before more clients came in with their animals and before you knew it, you worked right through lunch because a dog’s broken limb required emergency surgery and so you didn’t get a chance to get cleaned up at all. Your hair was a frizzy mess, you’re pretty sure your deodorant died trying to pick up an obese bulldog and put him on the exam table and you’re sure you threw your back out too. Your arm got scratched by a cat you had to neuter and your face nearly got scratched too and you sadly had to put down a puppy who’s six year old owner fed it a freaking bag of chocolate M&M’s and both the mother and the son were a mess and if you had been wearing makeup, you would have cried it off that afternoon and you were performing an ultrasound on a french bull dog when Jabril came back to pick you up for your date.

“Shit,” you breathed before you printed off the pictures and wrapped up that appointment.

“Hi, sorry to keep you waiting, had a very long day.” You tried to explain as you tried to clean yourself up just a tiny bit before Julie shoved some mascara and her emergency eye shadow mini palate that she kept in her purse into your hands and you just shoved them right back at her. There was no point. It wasn’t going to help that much. This was just going to be a dinner, that’s it. You would never see him again except to hopefully spay Kabira.

“It’s no trouble, I made you those cocoons for the other kittens.” Jabril offered as he handed you a box with over a dozen little cocoons and even another dozen actual cat beds made out of his silk and you wanted to cry.

“Thank you, thank you so so so much.” You thanked him as your eyes watered and you couldn’t stop smiling, this was the most precious gift to you.

“Also I made you this,” Jabril said as he pulled a shall out from behind him, it was obviously combed and woven and you nearly dropped the box.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed as you carefully put the box down to take the shall from him as you stared at it in awed wonder and hugged it before you wrapped it around you, it was a little big but oh, instantly warm. It was so heavenly.

“Thank you, thank you so much, I love it, it’s perfect.” You thanked him earnestly. Fuck. You were in trouble.

“Well if you’re ready, we can go now if you wish? Or are you still needed here?” He asked.

“Nope! She’s good! Have fun!” Julie practically shoved you both out of there before you took Jabril’s offered arm and walked with him to your car.

“So where did you want to go to dinner at?” You asked.

“I looked online and there are good reviews at Bonefish Grill.” He suggested as you took in a deep breath as you felt a little bit of panic bloom in your chest.

“Uh, I’m not really dressed...up...for a place like that.” You grimaced a little.

“Oh, I didn’t realize..that. Well we can go wherever you would feel most comfortable at.” Jabril offered.

“Actually there’s a taco truck spot just up the road that I like to go to.” You offered before you locked your car and just decided to walk down the road to it. You were lucky, it was in walking distance as you wrapped your new shall around your shoulders a little tighter as he walked you down the street to the place that had three taco trucks in a parking lot with a group of tables in the middle of them.

“If you want fish, they have fish tacos though and even a ceviche that’s really good.” You offered.

“Ok,” Jabril nodded in agreement as he walked you to the spot and waited patiently as you ordered what you wanted in Spanish before he surprised you by ordering in Spanish too, his Spanish was flawless and the guys behind the counter were just as surprised as you were and asked him how he spoke such good Spanish before Jabril explained that Jika spoke every human language put into the directory and that Spanish, in particular, high Spanish, spoken in Spain was put into the directory first however the Latin dialects were being added and that once it was uploaded into the directory and fed into the hive mind, it filtered down to every Jika through the hive mind. Which blew you away and put a proud smile on your face none the less. You got your food and sat down at one of the picnic tables and watched as Jabril practically inhaled his food.

“Would you mind if I asked you a personal question? I don’t want to be rude or make you uncomfortable though.” Jabril asked as he came back with his second round of food as you had begun a nice, friendly conversation, switching from English to Spanish back and forth at will with Jabril being able to keep up with you remarkably well.  

“Is it about my scars?” You guessed since you caught him staring all through dinner.

“Yes.” Jabril confirmed.

“About ten years ago, I was in a really bad car accident. These are the scars left behind from it.” You explained simply.

“My sincerest apologies.” Jabril apologized softly.

“It’s ok, it’s not your fault, but it does make me self conscious when people stare at them.” You muttered as he nodded and looked away from them and focused on your eyes instead.

“Is that why you told me that some things you never heal from?” Jabril asked softly.

“Yup.” You nodded as you suddenly felt compelled to tell him about it and so you did, all the gory details and Jabril listened very intently and then you got to the worst part of the story. “I...I uh...I wasn’t alone in the accident. I was with my husband at the time, he died in the accident.” You revealed, normally you wouldn’t like to just tell anyone that but you felt like he should know that.

“I’m sorry.” Jabril offered, in a low whisper as his antennae drooped.

“It’s ok, it happened a very long time ago, but because of my age, and because of the scars, I don’t get asked out very often, actually it’s been years since I was asked out on a date.” You confessed.

“But you’re still very desirable, you’re intelligent, compassionate, professional and perfectly competent.” Jabril praised as you paused and blinked in surprise.

“Uh, I think Jika and humans have very different definitions of ‘desirable’.” You gently argued.

“I know we do. My brother’s Isthantari, she’s a very large woman, larger than you, she didn’t think that of herself either but to Jika, females are always supposed to be large, soft and delicate, their exoskeleton is very thin, usually thinner than your own epidermis, and very fragile and needs to be protected, cared for and attended to constantly. She should be so large in fact that she’s immobile. So the term you used- ‘fat’ that is actually a very desirable trait. But the compassion and intelligence is what intrigued me about you and compelled me to ask you out on this ‘date’. And as for the scars, for a female Jika, they are treated the same way battle scars are treated and are harrowed by the hive. Because Jika females are in fact so delicate, for her to survive an attack is a sign of great strength. Same can be said about you. You survived something that killed another. That deserves praise, honor and respect and only serve to make you more desirable.” Jabril explained and you were dumbfounded. A prince, no, Jabril, thought you were desirable. Just the way you were. You wanted to cry. Again.

“Wow, thank you.” Was all you could say in response.

“So, I must confess something.” Jabril began as your eyebrows pinched in concentration.

“Technically speaking, I should not be dating, to Jika, the queen and caring for her and doing what she commands should be an all consuming task, but alas it is not. I have a job within the hive, to serve the hive and the queen, but it is an easy, simple job which leaves me a lot of free time and free mental and emotional availability. However, if we were to pursue this relationship, we would have to be discrete, since the queen should not tolerate ‘rivals’ not that you pose any real threat to her and not that you really are a rival to her in several senses, because one, you’re not a Jika that can take over the hive, produce Jika offspring and control the hive mind. And she has not taken offense to my brothers becoming committed to their Isthantaris which has given rise to a freedom that myself and the rest of my brothers had not previously entertained, in that we can have relationships outside of the hive, in particular to individuals who are not Jika. I know it may seem unorthodox to you but it has stirred in us a hope of things greater than we could have previously imagined. So, that being said, would you like to go on another date with me?” Jabril asked.

“Yes, I would love that.” You confirmed immediately before the conversation flowed much easier at that and you didn’t mind the occasional flick of his pupils to the side of your face and neck that had the scars. Because he obviously didn’t look at them with pity. He looked at them with admiration which was a completely new concept to you and you found the idea of it all exciting and fun and your heart and soul were completely willing to go ahead and dive in.

After you were done eating, you made plans for a second date and then as a surprise, he picked you up and flew you back to your car and set you down with the utmost care and gentleness. And the flying thing was the funnest thing ever.

“Hey Jabril?” You called after him after you paused in getting into your car as Jabril moved to fly away again but stopped and landed and came up to you again.

“Yes?” He asked hopefully.

“What’s an Isthantari?” You asked curiously.

“It’s a Jika term, it means ‘one I am devoted to for life’.” He answered with a grin.

“Aww, that’s so sweet! Well thank you so much for...everything, for the cocoons and for my shall, it’s my new favorite.” You beamed happily.

“You’re welcome. Good night, drive safe, oh, um, would you mind if I followed you home? I worry you’ll get into another car accident.” He proposed.

“I think I would crash being distracted by you if you did.” You winced.

“Oh, I do not wish for that to happen, I will refrain from such a thing, but please, drive with extreme care.” Jabril urged you.

“Ok, I will, I usually do.” You answered before you got into your car and drove home and true to Jabril’s word, he didn’t follow you. Instead you lost track of him shortly after he flew into the darkening skies.

‘So?! How was it? Text me when you get home!’ Julie texted you while you drove home and you rolled your eyes and got home and texted her back because you never texted and drove at the same time.

‘It was good, he asked what everyone asks. But we do have another date for Friday.’ You replied as you came into your house to find your three legged dog Buster, and your one eyed cat Sauron missing you, both of them happy to see you again as you pet them and refilled their food dishes and even made sure your cockatiel with the broken beak had it’s special food.

‘Oooh! You ARE going to dress up for that right?’ She pleaded.

‘Yes, I gotta take care of my peeps, ttyl.’ You texted her before you made your rounds in your apartment and got everything ready for the next day as you tried to shake the troubles of the day off which was easier than usual because of your impromptu date.

But when you laid in bed, you couldn’t help but smile softly to yourself about the date. Jabril was...perfectly charming, and thoughtful, and kind and showed more empathy and consideration that most did. You had learned to see beauty in everything long ago and you had to admit, you were finding a lot to appreciate about him. He was practically the perfect gentleman, but he could do so much better, he could have anyone he wanted. And if the Jika truly did find beauty in larger women, you knew there were so many who were even larger than you were, surely he would probably like them more than you and before you knew it, the smile vanished and morphed into a frown.

Friday came all too fast and you found yourself both thrilled and terrified. Surely this wouldn’t go past a second date. You actually could barely sleep Thursday night, you had gotten up early and had indeed tried to put makeup on, although you weren’t sure if this was really worth it, the best concealer in the world wouldn’t cover all this scarring. You felt so defeated. But Jabril had seen you without makeup at least, so he knew the extensiveness of it on your face. He had texted you and you had agreed to go out to eat with him somewhere really nice this time. You brought in a nice outfit to change into and even extra makeup to do touch ups after work.

You didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse that it was a slow day. Blessing that at least your hair and makeup stayed nice. A curse because you became painfully aware of the time, six hours, five hours, four, three, two, one… oh god. You were so nervous you could barely eat lunch and by dinner time you were both nervous but starving.

You had barely gotten ready by the time Jabril showed up and he seemed very pleased to see you again before he handed you another shawl made out of his silk this time, it was like giant sweater that went down to your knees from your shoulders, practically a coat. It was even dyed a gorgeous shimmering magenta that faded into a magnificent purple. It was the most beautiful garment you had ever seen before. You felt like a queen wearing it and it wasn’t nearly as heavy as you thought it would be, it was just as light as the shall was and was big enough to wrap around you so that each side could overlap each other by over a foot of fabric. You wore such a bright ecstatic smile that your cheeks almost hurt from smiling and all uneasiness, stress and nervousness you felt earlier completely melted away.

“Thank you, so, so, so much, this is magnificent! I love it.” You beamed happily as you hugged yourself in the garment. It even went with your dress and these colors really complimented your rich skin tone. You happily hopped up into his arms as he then flew you to the restaurant and set you down gently on the ground outside before opening the door for you like the gentleman he was and to your delight, he had made a reservation and you were shown to your table immediately as you took the side of the booth that had your left side towards the wall. Still feeling a bit self conscious.

“Please, order whatever your heart desires, this is my treat and there is no expectation other than the hope to enjoy your conversation during the meal.” Jabril offered to you as you both looked over the menu and when the waitress came he ordered a lovely sweet wine and a few appetizers when you had shrugged in answer to if any looked good to you.

“How did you know I wanted the crab cake?” You asked curiously with a mischievous grin.

“I confess I watched your eye movements and facial expression, but please know that money is of little importance to me, I only wish to provide you with a lovely evening.” Jabril explained.

“Then do you know what I want for dinner then?” You asked in a light teasing tone as you closed your menu to look at him expectantly.

“I believe it is currently a toss up between the Caribbean cobia and the Chilean sea bass.” Jabril answered with a smirk of his own and your jaw dropped. It was like he read your mind.

“That’s not fair.” You playfully complained with a light laugh.

“No it’s not, as a prince and potential consort, I have literally been bred to read a queen’s facial expressions and body language and to anticipate her every need, want and desire and then provide that for her, so you would say it’s ‘hard wired into me’.” Jabril explained as your cheeks burned as you looked away, a bashful smile on your lips all the same.

“I’m sure there are others more deserving of your attentions than me though.” You countered softly.

“Perhaps you are right, but none that I would ever compare to you. And even if I were to try, they would pale in the comparison to you so I will do no such thing.” Jabril reassured you and you were at a loss for words.  “Is there anything I can say to dissuade your feelings of unworthiness? Do you perhaps question my sincerity?” Jabril asked.

“Well, I guess I’m just...getting used to be treated like a queen.” You couldn’t help but shrug again as you took your glass of wine and took another long sip, loving the sweetness of it. Last night, alone with your thoughts you would have doubted he was sincere, but it was like the moment you were in his presence all your doubts and fears vanished and you felt so at ease.

“Are you trying to make me your Isthantari?” You found yourself asking with a gentle, playful twist to your accusation.

“Yes, I have been looking for some time, years in fact. You see what you may not know is a queen Jika, is incapable of emotionally bonding with all of her consorts, she may only bond with a few while all bond to her and so while we give all of ourselves to her, she gives none of herself to us, emotionally speaking that is. And since my brothers have found Isthantaris that give all of themselves just as completely as my brothers give of themselves to them, it is that- that I am looking for. So while you may not see yourself as someone desirable or worthy, know that I do.” Jabril reassured you and you were ready to kiss him and do, well, so much more.

When the waitress came back Jabril ordered you both the sea bass and the cobia and got himself the shrimp and scallops with an added on lobster tail and you watched curiously as he ate the shells of his seafood too, seeming to take more delight in those than the flesh, but you chalked it up to him being an alien, a sexy, perfectly charming and smooth as fuck alien who just up and swept you off your feet.

Dinner was absolutely delightful and you drank just enough wine to relax you and open up but all the giddiness came from Jabril, he told jokes that had you in stitches, laughing so hard you were crying, he was reached out and touched your hands with his lower arms so that his upper arms could continue to gesture and traced your hands delicately and with reverence and he made you feel like it was just the two of you in a bubble and the rest of the world completely melted away and you found you cared less and less about it. You were with Jabril, that’s all that mattered.

After he paid for dinner he few you back to your home, even though it wasn’t the wine that intoxicated you. And when he put you down on your door step, you asked him to come in and he asked if you were sure you really wanted that, being mindful that you had been drinking but you were absolutely positive you wanted him to stay and so he bent to your will and allowed you to lead him into your home and he was even more delighted with your animals, and all your animals were so happy and excited to meet him and they took to him immediately as he was supremely pleased that you took in such creatures and that you saw beauty in value in them and reminded you that you needed to see beauty and value in yourself and when he offered to show you, your clothes seemed to melt off of their own accord and while normally you would want to shy away from such things, with him, it was as if your body was a kintsugi- pottery repaired with gold, only your body was that of a goddess, made even more valuable and precious because of your scars that covered not just the left side of your face and neck, but of your left arm, shoulder and side and he kissed all of it. All that you felt sagged in your age, he caressed and loved on and made you feel electric in the best possible way and you were on the edge of being overwhelmed with such emotions and attentions.  

When his royal jelly appeared out of a duct in his chest and he explained it’s purpose you helped yourself to it and moaned in delight, it was so good. Peaches, blackberries and sour-sop were the key flavors you got out of it, but hints of guava and banana were present too and you greedily sucked it down as his cock speared your hot sopping wet center. He was large and stretched you but while it was a snug fit, it wasn’t uncomfortable at all and the tingling sensation only enhanced your own desire. He started off slow, working his way in until you whined in protest at his pulling out and wrapped your legs tightly around his waist to keep him close. God you wanted that knot. You wanted all of it and grinded your pelvis onto it, urging him to go deeper, to take you harder and he seemed to get the hint and soon you found he had to wrap his upper arms around your shoulders to keep you pinned to the bed while keeping himself up by his elbows and forearms that were under your shoulder blades as one of his lower armed hands was kneading your voluptuous hips and rear while the other hand sweetly tormented your clit and it was all you could do to keep up sucking down that divine royal jelly and with his last final and completely desperate thrusts he finally knotted you and it was that- that finally sent you over the edge and you screamed as your whole body shook from the magnitude of this orgasm, surely the most powerful and magnificent orgasm of your life so far before your cheeks were now bulging almost painfully as a huge load of royal jelly gushed into your mouth and you fought to swallow it all down. It was so good you didn’t want a drop of it to go to waste and when the duct finally didn’t give you any more did you finally giving it one last teasing lick as Jabril shuddered as you let your head rest on the pillows and pant and try to catch your breath before you reached down and felt your lower belly feel like you were pregnant, but it didn’t hurt, you just felt...well completely stuffed as he rolled to lay on his side and still cuddled you close to his chest, your legs still wrapped comfortably around his waist and didn’t feel any pressure on your leg as his antennae tapped around your head attentively and when his cock shrunk and receded, the knot literally popping out of place, did you expel what felt like at least a gallon of his seed, but again, no discomfort came, just..relief with a tiny touch of disappointment that he wasn’t in you anymore.

“How do you feel my Isthantari?” Jabril cooed as he reached up to softly and delicately move the hair out of your face and gently traced your scars.

“Like a queen, like a goddess, like...the best I’ve ever felt.” You answered as you cuddled with his chest closely as he then went to pet and comb your hair with his fingers, loving and adoring it’s silky softness.

“Good, can I ask you something?” He asked softly.

“Anything.” You answered.

“Does your scaring cause you any discomfort at all? Or is it like any of your other epidermis?” He asked as he traced the skin around the scars, mindful not to touch it just in case it did.

“The scars on my face are very sensitive, the scars on my side feel numb actually.” You answered.

“If you were interested, would you be willing to try a Jika medicine to lesson them?” He asked.

“Yes,” you immediately answered.

“Then let me experiment with something just for tonight then, it won’t harm you, I promise- but I just want to see if it will help.” Jabril posed.

“My body is yours,” you giggled and he kissed you softly but with so much promise and you felt absolutely at ease as he reached down with his lower arms and scooped up his cum and began to apply to your skin as you looked down curiously at it, noting it’s holographic nature.

“Your cum cures scars?” You asked as you felt it’s slightly jelly like nature and watched as it shifted colors depending on the light and your skin felt a cooling, tingling sensation wherever he put it.

“Well I don’t know if it will completely, but one of the Isthantari’s, she was marooned an a tropical island with my brother and she claimed it cured her sunburn and she uses it as a beauty enhancer and so far it has done wonders for her complexion and she “collects” it from their mating and uses it exclusively, her skin has thus appeared very radiant since she started using it.” Jabril explained as he gently put it all over your scars all over your body.

“Well hell,” you giggled as you scooped some up and put it all over your face, quite liking it’s cooling and tingling properties and it did soothe the scars on your face better than anything ever had before. When you practically looked like a walking holographic highlighter, you scooped up the excess and put it into a jar before you gathered your bedding up to wash it and while you left to put it into the washer, when you came back with more bedding, you were both delighted and thrilled to find Jabril spinning you a bed with his silk,

“So that’s how you do it.” You gently teased as you put the bedding down and leaned on the door jam and watched him work as he smiled bashfully and ducked his head.

“Yes.” Jabril admitted as he finished making the perfectly soft and ridiculously comfortable bed on top of your mattress and he beckoned you over when he was finished and laid you down into it and you couldn’t help but groan in pleasure as you felt yourself melt into it as he laid down with you and pulled the blanket which was part of the bed itself up over you both fluffing the pillow like softness under your head so that any part he personally wasn’t cradling, was still cradling you nonetheless. That night, in Jabril’s arms was the best sleep you had ever gotten and in the morning when you bathed with him and he oh so carefully washed his cum off, he buzzed excitedly when your scars had visibly lessened. And even to you, the overly sensitive parts weren’t nearly as sensitive, in fact they felt normal while the parts that were numb, had even more feeling to them so that over all it felt more normal and even the parts on your arms and your chest and side, the parts you could see, the darker parts had lightened considerably and the lighter parts had darkened so that your skin overall evened out. You were in shock and amazement at it. It was too good to be true, you started crying tears of happiness again as you kissed Jabril deeply and before you knew it, he had you pinned up against warm shower wall and lost himself in you again, only this time, it was even better because he buzzed while he was in you and it was better than any vibrator ever had been and in mere moments you came and he hadn’t even knotted you yet and you came a second and third time by the time he did knot you, buzzing once he knotted you which was absolutely epic.

The rest of the day was actually spent on board the ship, exploring his rooms and he took you to the botany level and you gasped as you explored all the flora before he introduced you to the fauna from the Jika home world, the Jika equivalents to pets and things as you giggled as you picked them up and pet them, noting the similarities before you got to meet the other Ishtantari’s, Dr. Kimble especially excited and eager to note how your scaring lessoned with the application of Jika cum as Sable cooked the native Jika fruits and vegetables and Lenore let you try all the desserts she had started making with the Jika fruits as the other Isthantaris were really welcoming of you too and you felt like you were with friends, practically family.

Within a matter of weeks he was moved in with you, which all he possessed was simply Kabira and her things with a phone, it’s charger and a wallet since Jika didn’t really have clothes to speak of, but he did have weaponry which he stored in a closet, that’s all he took up and living with you and practically paying all of your bills and taking care of you and your home and your animals while you were away at work during the day and with you using his cum as scar cream, in no time they were barely noticeable, to the point, you didn’t feel you had to wear makeup other than eye makeup when you wanted to and everyone complimented you on your glowing complexion and your growing Jika wardrobe which you wore with pride. Who knew that you would find happily ever after from a kind soul rescuing a kitten.

[stripestheboar]

Day 29 - Undyrus (Underfell)

Yeah yeah, I know I’m extremely late. I deeply apologize. Day 30 will be out soon. Have a bit of something going on. I originally finished this last night, but didn’t post it until now.

Pairing: Undyrus/Papdyne (Papyrus/Undyne)

Word Count: 2,067

Papyrus tapped the eraser of his pencil on the table for a moment, taking a small portion of his time to rest his skull on his hand.  

Papyrus was a strict monster, and thus abided by his own strict schedules. Every morning at five, he was getting himself ready and making sure everything was in order and make sure Doomfanger was fed, but it wasn’t until six started the day off by waking his brother and making the two of them breakfast. He didn’t care how much his brother complained or how bad his own food tasted, Sans still had to have something in his diet besides mustard and booze. An hour later on the dot, he would got to the sentry stations with his brother and go out on patrol. Despite the actual job not starting until eight, he liked to get out early just to make sure everyone was at their stations. The next of his nine hours were going back and forth between the sections of the Underground to make sure everything was in order and to check in with Undyne and Asgore. He made sure to return every exact hour to check up on Sans and make sure he wasn’t slacking off or being fucked with by other monsters. Once the clock hit five, he returned home, would realize Sans wasn’t there, and would go into Grillby’s and soon storm out with his brother tucked under his arm. He would then make dinner, which Sans only ate if he was starved, and Papyrus himself almost never ate his own food. Yeah, you can guess that the fridge was stocked full of shitty lasagna. Sans would trudge up to his room to sleep the rest of the day away. The younger brother, however, would keep working on reports that he would receive and send into the king through email. That usually took up another few hours of his time, and he would spend another hour making plans for the next day. Papyrus would then spend the rest of his little night either watching Mettaton (which he would never admit to anyone), going online, petting and snuggling Doomfanger, or reading a book. Maybe if he was tired enough, he would get an hour or two of sleep, but even that was rare. The clock would come to five once again, and the day would start all over from the beginning.

“Hey bro,” the smaller brother grunted, passing by slightly open doorway, causing the larger skeleton to jolt to life. He looked back at his brother, who had stopped to peer into the room. “You okay?” Sans inquired, raising his sockets at his younger sibling’s unusually jerky movements. “What do you want?” Papyrus spat, attempting to raise his voice to hide the fact he had just been caught sleeping on his own work. Sans didn’t answer, watching him for a few moments before just shrugging and walking off, pulling out his phone. The younger gave a tired sigh, looking down at the mountains of work in mild distress.  

Every day would be the same, with the exception of Sunday, where Papyrus allowed one off day for Sans. This had been the schedule ever since Papyrus had taken Undyne’s previous position as head of the Royal Guard. That was more than a year ago. Some would call the skeleton’s rigorous, exhausting, and excessive, he couldn’t see it any other way. He just didn’t have the capacity sympathize with those who complained behind his back. Asgore wasn’t objecting, even if Undyne had suggested several times that he lax on his policies. While he did take her advice into consideration, it was mostly pride that made him ignore her. Once Papyrus had defeated his former superior in battle, their relationship deteriorated in an instant, going from best friends to a very tense partnership. While the skeleton was prideful, he wasn’t an idiot, and so Undyne remained as his second in command. Even still, he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit paranoid at her power. He knew she was just waiting for the moment he would let his guard down. Despite that, he could recognize when he was being paranoid, but he just couldn’t help but be put off by just how accepting she was of it all. While yes, she was still as competitive and bitter as all hell, she also hasn’t made an attempt on his life, as he had expected she would.

Papyrus jerked again, hearing the doorbell ring loudly from downstairs. Probably one of Sans’ friends, he assumed, since visitors for the younger sibling were rather rare. He sighed, deciding to let Sans take care of it. He didn’t feel like walking right now, as absurd as that sounded. He was disappointed in himself, to say the least.

Even with so much on his plate, Papyrus made sure he kept it mostly to himself, with the exception of the occasional paperwork. It was mostly just a matter of appearing strong in front of the guard. After all, now that all eyes were on him, looks were everything, and appearing weak in front of all his peers and lower ranking coworkers was akin to a death sentence. Well, in his view, anyways. After being caught giving Lesser Dog a simple pet, his eligibility as a leader was questioned within seconds. Despite that, he had kept up his determination and bore through it all. He didn’t need any criticizing or adulation from his peers to change his mind, and he was intent on keeping it that way. After all, he was the Great and Terrible Papyrus. If he let that idea slip for even a moment, he feared he would lose everything he ever worked for. Still, even with how hard he focused his time and effort on his job, it sometimes became too much, an example being his current situation. Lack of sleep and the expectations held by the Underground wasn’t exactly doing wonders for his psyche.

A knock on his door sounded. Papyrus looked back questioningly. Usually Sans just opened the door without hesitation if he wanted his brother’s attention. Had he finally learned manners? Papyrus let out a small chuckle at the thought. As if. Sans was more likely to switch his diet to ketchup than to ever learn any basic manners. “Come in,” he called, keeping his voice firm and strong as always. To his surprise, it was Undyne who stepped, giving that snarky grin he had grown fond of over time. “Undyne? What do you want?” he demanded, maintaining the sturdy tone of his voice.

“So, is what Sans telling me actually true?” she inquired, stepping over to him and looking over the mound of papers. “The Great and Terrible Papyrus is actually tired for once?” Papyrus merely scoffed, crossing his arms at the very idea of his frame having limits of its own. “As if,” he muttered, looking away from her. She wasted no time in flopping onto his bed with a grin, much to his mild annoyance. “Remind me to throw Sans out for tonight,” he grumbled, though he knew he was only bluffing to himself.  

“Need some help with all that?” she asked him, her grin turning to a smirk as she rested her head on a propped up hand. The response was an immediate “no” from the skeleton, obviously disgruntled by the question. It made her frown, watching the thinner guard turn back to his work as he struggled to hold back a yawn. “Your brother tells me you haven’t been getting much sleep,” she told him in an almost casual tone, as if she was just bringing up the idea just to start a conversation. Her boss quickly glanced over at her warningly. “My schedule is not my brother’s business, nor is it yours,” he huffed, looking back at his work and drumming his phalanges along the paper-riddled desk in light agitation. “If this is all you came to inquire about, then I suggest you leave.”  

“Even at home, you’re still the biggest tight-ass,” she told him, rolling her visible eye with a light smirk on display. Papyrus shot her a deathly glare, but it had no effect on her whatsoever, as she was already used to his threats, both verbal and nonverbal. “I get as much sleep as needed, thank you,” he grumbled to her, folding his arms on the table.

“Well you should at least take the day off or something,” she suggested, which might as well have been saying he should just hung himself now. “Not a possibility,” he said simply, not moving from his position. He saw her get up and walk over from the corner of his vision, grabbing some of the papers. “Well then you should at least let me help out,” she told him, looking through the surprisingly large amount of work. Asgore was really stacking up. However, she didn’t get far, as the papers were quickly snatched away by an extremely angry looking Papyrus. “I don’t need your help!” he hissed, slamming he work back onto his desk. “Now, I fervently suggest you remove yourself from my quarters, lest your demise will be imminent!”

Undyne’s look of momentary surprise shifted into one of frustration and anger. “How about you calm your ass down?” she spat at him. “I’m trying to fucking help you, asshole. Why can’t you just accept that?” Papyrus opened his mandible to retort, but he didn’t get the chance, as Undyne wasn’t done yet. She picked up the giant stack of papers. “Look at all this shit. Back when I was captain, even I couldn’t finish all of this in one go.” She dropped them. “So why do you have to act like a hard-ass twenty-four seven, huh? Though, I suppose you were always shit at taking hints, huh?”

“And that’s what got me in your place to begin with, hmm?” he replied quickly, catching the fish off guard and causing her to grit her teeth. “Wow, Paps, you’re really fucking pushing it,” she growled through clenched fangs. In all fairness, Papyrus had expected her to storm our right there, or at least challenge him in some way. However, instead, he was surprised to find himself grabbed, lifted up, and thrown onto his bed. At first, he thought it was an attack and was preparing himself for a rebuttal despite his tired state, until a load of blankets was dumped over him. “Now you’re gonna take a fucking nap for once in your life while I do a few of these,” she told him, looking at the work. “A few?” he asked, sitting up in a dumbfounded state. “Well this is a lot of work,” she told him, “and I’m tired as fuck. In fact…” She ran over and flopped into bed with him. “Just to make sure you’re not trying to cheat your way out of eight hours of hardcore relaxation, I’m sleeping right here with you. Also because I’m not walking all the way back home.”

“But the king,” Papyrus protested. “If he finds out I’ve slacked off, he’ll have my skull.” Undyne merely scoffed at the notion. “Yeah right. Do you really think the king is going to slay the captain of the Royal Guard just because of a bit of paperwork? Trust me. The king gives a lot more leeway than you think. It’s not like he’s going anywhere after all.” She gave a sigh. “Just stop worrying about work for once, will you? I know you love your job and how much you adore being a badass, but just chill for once. Trust me. I’m just here to help.”

Papurus first thought about rejecting his friend’s help. However, now that he was here, in bed, his body seemed to be shutting down. He decided to take Undyne’s advice, which was a rather new settlement outside of the workplace. “Fine,” he sighed, closing his sockets. “But, you do know we have a couch available, right?” He could hear Undyne chuckle. “I walked all the way over here from Waterfall. I’m fucking sleeping in your bed,” she mumbled, sounding rather tired as well. This only seemed to pull him deeper into his growing tiredness. He would allow it for now, though this might require more private discussions later on.

That would surely be interesting.

And with that, he fell into a deep sleep.

[meteoratdusk-blog]

RvB Bingo Wars: Junior entry

Title: Goodnight Sun

Summary: Night watch in Blood Gulch might be the most boring thing ever, but Church gets a midnight visitor that he didn’t expect.

Word Count: 1.7k

Notes: no warnings except maybe Church’s joking thoughts about self-harm, but as always let me know if there’s anything else I need to tag!

Goodnight Sun

It was night in Blood Gulch, or what passed for it.  At some point in their history the Red and Blue bases must have agreed on synchronizing their clocks or something, because when “night” fell in the canyon everything went dead.  Well, usually.  A few weeks ago Sarge had decided that canyon after hours would be prime infiltration time, but stealth and the Reds had never exactly been best friends, and you couldn’t really call it a sneak attack when everyone in the base was waking up at 0400 to the sound of Grif and Simmons bickering in the hallway or Donut complaining about the décor.

After the third time they were forced to surrender all of their Oreos just to get some sleep, the Blues had decided that maybe posting a watch would be a good idea.  For the first few nights, the watch had been taken by Sheila, and suddenly the Reds were a lot less interested in sneaking in.

Of course, all that really meant was that now that it was Church’s turn to stand watch, it was really, really fucking boring.

Church sat on the edge of the base’s roof and wondered how much damage he would do to his robot body if he threw himself over the edge, just for a distraction.  He was already dead so it wasn’t like it could kill him, and it wasn’t actually that far down anyway, only about twenty feet or so.

Probably better not to, if he broke himself in a way he couldn’t fix he’d have to try and find help.  The Reds would make ludicrous demands just to loan him a wingnut, and Tex would laugh at him and then say he owed her a favor, which was even worse.  The last time Tucker tried to help with robots he deactivated Church’s legs, he didn’t really want to know what Sister might do with a wrench, and Caboose… the less said about Caboose, the better.

The wind would whistle and a tumbleweed would blow past right about now if Blood Gulch ever had wind.  As it was the air was dead and hot, the sun beat down like a punishment, and Church was just looking forward to taking his metal body inside the shade of the base and listening to it cool down with soft pings and ticks like a fucking car.

He’d never felt like he and Sheila had so much in common.

Sheila had put herself into stand-by mode, unfortunately, so he couldn’t tell her about the newfound camaraderie.  Tex had just laughed at him when he suggested they sit out under the stars together.  Everybody else was organic, and therefore asleep.

He’d revel in the peace and quiet, but after several hours it mostly felt like tedium.

Shhh, shh, ssshhhlk.

Church almost didn’t hear the faint noise, but as soon as he did he grabbed his sniper rifle, assuming it was the Reds dragging something big and inconvenient across the canyon, or—

Shhh, sshhhhlk.

—that sound was coming from behind him.

Church whirled around, the sniper rifle pulling up, even though it wasn’t really meant for targets at close distances, and fuck if he’d ever managed to hit anything with it anyway—

Large, wide, alien eyes looked up at him, a tiny hand stuffed into a collection of mandibles, like a child sucking his thumb except with a lot more teeth that weren’t sucking so much as gently gnawing.

Junior.

Church lowered the gun.  Then he looked behind the little abomination, but Tucker didn’t seem to be anywhere nearby.  It was just Junior, standing at the top of the base with his chubby fingers in his mouth—mouthparts?—and something big and white dragging on the ground behind him.

They stared at each other.

“What… the hell do you want?” Church asked, his tone more puzzled than acerbic.

“Blaaarg,” Junior replied, taking his fist out of his mouth.

“Uh…” Church said.  He still hadn’t figured out if Blarg meant “yes” or Honk meant “no,” but neither one of them made much sense in this context.  “Isn’t it past your bedtime or something?  Oh shit, did you have—do aliens have nightmares?  I don’t—do you want me to… get your… dad?”

He didn’t know what you called someone who carried a parasitic alien embryo to term, but Tucker seemed keen on being a father all of a sudden, so what the hell.

“Honk! Blarg honk!” Junior said, and it was pretty clear by the vehemence in his tone that he meant no.  

Junior slept in the same room with Tucker, so probably if he’d wanted to wake him up he would have just done that and not gone all the way outside into the hot sun for no reason.  Maybe he wanted to make sure Tucker stayed asleep.  His dad was still kind of worn out after Junior’s birth.

“Okay so… what the hell do you expect me to do?” Church asked.  “Shouldn’t you be sleeping like everyone else?”

Junior blarg’ed miserably and then, after a moment of hesitation, held up the thing he had dragged there with him.

“What is that, a book?” Church asked. “A really… really shitty book?”

“Blaarg,” Junior insisted, holding it out to him.

Church put down the sniper rifle, and took the messy collection of pages from him.

“Okay, now I have your really shitty book.  Is that—are we done now, will you leave?”

Junior gave him a look that was wholly unimpressed, which was a real feat for an alien toddler.

“Honk blaaarg blarg blarg honk,” the kid said, gesturing at the book.

Church looked at the book.  He looked at the alien child, who waited surprisingly patiently for a Tucker, and he looked back at the book.  He groaned.

“You’re not going to go away until I read this to you, are you?” he asked.

“Honk.”

Church checked the time function in his robot body: 0330.  Three and a half more hours before it was what they called “day” again.  He looked around the hot, empty canyon, devoid of anything interesting to look at that he hadn’t seen a thousand times, and back at the book and the little alien with the disturbingly cute puppy dog eyes.

He had wanted a distraction.

“Ugh,” he muttered, but he moved his gun aside and plopped onto the base’s roof with the sound of creaking metal.  “Alright, fine,” he told the little abomination, “I’ll read you the fucking book, but only once and only if you stop making that face, it’s disturbing as hell.”

Immediately Junior’s pleading expression morphed into something that looked outright smug.

“Yeah, alright, that one’s not any better,” Church complained, but he opened the book anyway.

Honestly it could barely be called a book.  It was a bunch of large sheets of paper stacked on top of each other, about an inch of the left side folded in on itself in a sad attempt to keep it all together.  It looked like just holding it the wrong way would make it spew pages, although it was anyone’s guess whether that would make it less coherent.

“A Young Alien’s Guide to Making Friends,” Church read.  “By Frank Dufresne.  You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Junior honk’ed and it sounded annoyed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it,” Church griped, turning the page.  “Oh. It’s illustrated.  In… crayon?  God, I hope that’s crayon, if Caboose has found the catsup again I am not cleaning it up.”

“HONK,”

“Right.  Uh… The first thing you should know about making friends is that you can’t judge a book by its cover.  Yeah?  Because the cover of this book told me it was terrible and so far you have not proven me wrong.  This is always a good lesson!  You should always give people a chance, no matter what their color or creed.  Oh wait, there’s a note underneath it.  Is that Tucker’s handwriting?  Unless they’re Reds, because they all suck.  Useful insight, Tucker, very original.”

“Blarg,” Junior said, pointing to lower on the page.

“Oh shit, you’re right, there’s another note. What does that… but…pats…pastries are dill… delicious.  …is Caboose vouching for Donut here, or what?”

Junior just honked, and so it went.  Church didn’t even know how long they spent on the roof of the base trying to parse that cobbled together book before they were interrupted.

“Sneaking… sneaking…”

Briefly Church considered whether or not ignoring the extremely loud whisper would make things better or worse.

“Sneeeeaaakiiing…”

“Jesus Christ, Caboose,” he said, breaking almost immediately, “just get over here and shut the fuck up, it’s story time.”

“Okay Church!” Caboose said, far too loudly for four in the morning.  He plopped himself down on Church’s other side, away from Junior and his teeth.  “I will be quiet as a mouse and they are very quiet.”

“That’s great buddy,” Church grumbled.  “You do that.”

“OKAY!” Caboose yelled and then, in an exaggerated whisper.  “Okay.”

“Alright, so chapter two—”

“Oooh, this is my favorite chapter,” Caboose whisper-yelled, creeping closer and draping himself over Church’s shoulder so he could better see the pictures. The ones Caboose had drawn himself.

Church just rolled his eyes and kept reading.

When Grif found them, wandering over about an hour later, both Junior and Caboose had fallen asleep and Church was no longer capable of moving his arms.  Caboose was just heavy, and it turned out that Junior had quite a grip for a toddler when he thought you were a teddy bear.

“Uuuhh….” Grif said, and helmet or not Church could hear the raised eyebrow.

He glared at Grif.

“Don’t fucking start with me,” he hissed quietly. He didn’t want to wake them up. They might make him read to them again. “Scram, Red.”

“Okay, but we’re out of Oreos again and I’ve gotta tell you this is amazing blackmail material—”

“In the cabinet over the stove,” Church said immediately.  “Now fuck off, and if you ever mention this again—”

“Whatever you say, dude…” Grif said, wandering away, but Church could hear him laughing.

Church shifted a little, but Junior made a sad, sleepy blarg-honk noise and just clung tighter, and Caboose didn’t even stir.  He sighed, and settled in for the rest of the night.

He’d never admit that it was actually kind of comfortable.

[unclebiggs]

It began with M

It Began with M

Chapter 1: It Began with M

I have told this story for what feels like a hundred times. Anytime someone mentions hearing a ghost story, or tells of a experience they had in the past, hell even anytime someone asks "Have you seen the trailer to this movie?" I always responds with my personal dealings with the afterlife during my late teen years, still a boy but slowly becoming a man, in a 2 floor apartment in Chicago. 

Recently some friends of mine suggested I write my stories down, turn it into a horrific tale of a truly spine tingling experience. A decision I have come to regret since that day. 

I now spend every night, since I started writing, repeating the same routine. The same one I learned years ago when this story began. 

"You don't belong here... You don't belong here. YOU DON'T BELONG HERE!"

  I don't understand why it works, or if it works with every sitstuation, I just know, from what I dealt with, repeating those words, sternly, always pulled me back away from what lies in the shadows.

  I guess a little back story before we begin would be best, without it, all of this would just come off as unstructured ramblings of a man crazed by paranoia. 

  The same month this story begins was the same month I was diagnosed with BP-1 or more commonly known as Type 1 Bipolar disorder. A manic episode in school and a few paranoid fueled delusions, was enough to scare my parents into secretly getting me help. Because hell, no one wants to admit their child may have some screws loose in their old noggin. I understood their fears though. One day out of the blue, I completely blanked out and lost my shit, and started screaming and attacking some kids at school. I don't remember what started it, nor do I remember how it ended. I went from sitting at my desk, bored to tears as my teacher lectured the class on the fundamentals of Algebra. "You will need to know this for every day life!" Was what she would yell at us, whenever she caught someone ignoring her teachings. It happened almost every day. 

 After that, the next thing I remember was my teacher crying, another students face scratched and bloody, and a 2 ton behemoth of a man pinning me down with this tree sized calf pressed firmly into my upper chest. Close enough to threaten the wind pipe in my throat, but far enough that I could breath. Barely. 

For some months before this attack, I started to believe that I could feel the thoughts of students and teachers in my school. They were not pretty thoughts, not at all. Tortured and angry, they all hated me, they hated, the kid  that always had a smile on his face. Or that's how I remember it at least. Honestly, these days its hard to even know what did and didn't happen. I guess I'm not starting any of this with a whole lot of confidence, makes it hard to believe a story when even the writer can't recall memories and suffers from delusions. 

     That's how it all works though with ghosts, or spirits, or phantoms, whatever name you want to give them, they don't like to be remembered. I have no clue as to why, what purpose does hiding from us serve them. 

     Most people are lucky enough to never remember any experiences or interactions that they had with the dead, but trust me when I say, we've all  had at least one experience. Those moments are usually wiped from our minds or at the very least altered, leaving people confused as to what transpired. Sometimes though, clues are left behind, and with them, we rebuild our broken memories, that is if we choose to remember at all.  

     The easiest clues to spot are the chunks of time that seem to just vanish. If you ever had a unnerving feeling of an unseen figure, slowly creeping towards you from the shadows, or one that lurks in the corners of your eyes, like a hungry wild cat stalking it's next meal. That overwhelming presence that fills us with blood curding dread when we sit alone in a deafening silent room, chilled with malice intent. The sensation that causes the hairs on your arms to stand tall with teeth grinding trepidation, and then... nothing. Feelings gone, nothing in the shadows, no figure waiting in the corner, just you in a empty room and time lost in the unspoken commotion.

         I feel like Hollywood has a small part to play for the unsettling and confused reactions we garner from these moments. Movies have tainted our minds with preconceived ideas of what dwells in the darkness. With an over reliance on special effects makeup and CGI, they have convinced generations of people into believing that the things, that go bump in the night, are tangible. Demons, monstrous creatures, paranormal activates, they all are given a face or a form. 

       As if they can be touched by our shivering hands when we cautiously reach out for a possessed porcelain doll, once a beautiful treasured item pain-stakingly created by a manic artist, now cracked and aged from years of neglect. Or as we reach for the rustic doorknob, loosely held by dull worn out screws, to a heavy and creaking wooden door. The only safety sitting in the pathway between us and a loud, wet cracking sound on the other side. Like bones crushing under the pressure of monestrous slobbering mandibles. 

My first clue, my frist experience all started with the woman next door to the apartment I lived in. My parents owned the 2 floor building we lived in. We called the second floor home and my sister and her family lived on the first. The basement, which used to be where our family held parties, was now just a storage space for all the junk my family no longer wanted, but didn't want to toss away. Just tossed and forgotten in the cold and stale basement. For a while I used to enjoy chilling out down there after school. Even though it smelled funny and dead bugs littered the floor like bread crumbs leading to their nesting spot, it felt safe. I would clean up the area when I could, drop a few bug traps, I did my best to keep it maintained, but it was a never ending battle. 

I can't remember her name, the woman next door, with every attempt to remember her, even when she was alive, the memories get revised. With every revision, comes a new name for her. Though, as odd as it may sound, her name in every version of this constantly changing history, always started with an M. Massiel, Michelle, Meghan, Misty, Miriya, Monica, Marisa, Maria, May, Martha, and so many others that I decided it was just best to call her M. 

She was an older woman, but like her name, her age always varied, but her undeniable beauty never changed. M wasn't the most beautiful woman that I have ever come across, hell over the years I have come to meet plenty of woman that society would deem much more stunning. Still she had that alluring beauty, the kind that caught your eye and refused to let go. Especially when she smiled. When she did, you felt safe, her cheerful and honest grin felt familiar. 

Then one day she changed. She used to walk the neighborhood all the time, her daily exercise, which she did around the same time. Early in the morning, and around the hours that I would head out to the public bus stop and wait for the green limo that gathered the bored and tired denizens of the morning routine, heading out to their daily grind. For me it was school. 

Even on the cold winter snow filled days, she would take her daily stroll. Then they started to become infrequent, eventually she stopped completely. Still, since she also lived on the second floor, I would sometimes see her through her kitchen window that sat right across my bedroom window. Her smile was gone, face pale, the cheerful demeanor that she radiated was gone. Then a few weeks later she just wasn't there anymore, and then, unexpectedly one night she was.

I was in my bed with both my adorable but annoying chihuahuas, Nunuk and Mimi. After some time of tossing and turning, I was finally falling to sleep. It was in the moment between where the mind begins to drift into the warm embrace of a dream filled deep sleep and the slow decline from the bodies external senses, that I felt the sensation of someone sitting at the edge of the bed. 

     At first, it was just my legs that rolled slightly towards the incline, as the pressure of weight on the bed grew, more of my body began to tilt in it's direction. With every inch I turned towards the thing that was sitting at the edge of my bed, the further away I was pulled from the safe arms of my dreams and forced into the grips of a horrific realization. I was not alone. 

          I awoke from my sleep and sprung upright, eyes blurred, and too dark to clearly see, but I knew what was there or should I say wasn't. My dogs stood at the other end of the bed, their fur standing straight up, and ready to attack, though I wasn't sure exactly as to what they thought they were going to accomplish. I could barely open my eyes, especially my right eye, so there was no way for me to know for sure what was there by sight, something that over time I would learn was pointless anyways, but by instinct, intuition, I knew exactly who was there. 

     I could feel her eyes on me, and if the idea of her lifeless body sitting at my beds end watching me sleep wasn't enough to scare me, then her smile, normally filled with joy and compassion, was now overflowing with something much more sinister. M, who had now been dead for a few weeks, was in my room, sitting on my bed. I had to act, but for whatever reason I still couldn't completely open my right eye. The more I attempted to force my eyelids open the stronger a sharp pain would shoot down my eye, into my jaw, and finally work its way down my spine. I panicked with confusion and pain, and bolted out of the bed to turn on the light. 

     There was no one there, nor where there signs that anyone had ever been there. I could finally see again with my left eye, but my right still rang from pain. I turned to the door and stumbled my way into the bathroom to see what was wrong with my eye, thinking my ordeal with the presence of M was over with. As I stood in front of the mirror prying open my eyelids with my hands, a new dreadful sensation began and I could feel her pacing with a panic, back and forth past the bathroom's door way, like a scared and confused animal trying to escape a small room. I fought the urge to look towards her direction and just continued to stare straight ahead into the mirror. I thought to myself, if you can't see it, then it can't hurt you. At that moment, and only for a moment, I completely forgot about M. There, in the corner of my eye, resting in the bed of the socket was the tip of a small yellow string. 

     As I cautiously reached for it with my left hand while my right kept my eyelids open, I wholeheartedly expected M to walk up behind me, or even worse appear in the mirror in front of me, grinning her now dead and haunting smile. The second I felt the edge of the string in my finger tips, is when time began to slow. I pulled and pulled on that blood soaked string for what felt like hours and with every tiny centimeter that I pulled from my socket, a shot of pain worked it's way down every nerve in my body. My legs and arms shook from the constant barrage of pain, but I couldn't stop pulling on the tiny yet hellish string. 

      It was almost an addiction, I had to see just how long this thing was. At one point though, I began to wonder what was in my grasp, was this minute thing that made its way down my eye even a piece of thread? Could it be a part of me, a thread of flesh maybe, a fiber of tendon, or a collection of nerves? Was I slowly tearing the flesh of body from the inside out?  

     Finally, as my thoughts reached a feverish high of gore, one that I couldn't handle anymore, where I ironically thought that I had reached the end of my rope, the tiny rope in my eye fully came out, and in that exact moment, M's presence was also gone. 

          Back then, I believed M was the one who placed the string in my eye, but the more I think about it. The more my memory of that night gets revised, the more I belive, she was only there as a witness to the whole ordeal, maybe even a concerned one. As for the bloody thread that I pulled from my eye, the one that took forever to remove, was only 3 inches long. 

     The night was silent again, and as if I was in a drunken stooper, my recollection of the whole ordeal began to wain, even before I attempted to go back to my bed. My dogs, who were so scared and ready to attack were now fast asleep, as if nothing ever happened. Like the rising sun that was filling my room with light, it dawned on me as to what was going on. M or something else, someone else, wanted me to forget everything that had happened, but why? I had proof of my ordeal, something more than just a clue, one that I still have to this day. My reminder that I am not a complete crazed and delusional poor soul, constantly tortured by paranoia and fear. Regardless on how insane my story sounds, I still have the yellow 3 inch string now stained with the rustic color of dried blood. 

Chapter 1: End

Chapter 2: Then came the Shadow

     (I find myself once again repeating. "You don't belong here!" Usually only have to do it once a night, but the night is still young and this is the second time I had to push away the shadow. )

     Three months had gone by since that first encounter, which is almost how long it took before I was able to sleep through a whole night, and not wake up in a cold sweat, at exactly 4:44 AM. I know such a cliche, such a sad "Hollywood" attempt of suggestive mania.

     Not surprisingly, the first few days after M made her presence known, were the worst. I didn't sleep at all during that time. Every slight sound like the house settling in the cold night air became an muffled whisper, or the dance of lights and shadows caused by cars driving through the neighborhood, the bright beams from their headlights piercing into the house gave way to illusions of something making it's way to me. This constant fear kept my nerves on high alert and my mind racing. I was now always short of breath as my heart pounded, every night burst with overwhelming angst. 

     Worse, were the days at school. Lane Tech was a massive and bustling school, with over 4000 students walking the halls between class periods. Each of us rushing and bumping into each other, trying make it to the next class before the tardy bell played it's malefic song. 

     Before M, the sensation of having that many people around me all at once, never really took a toll on my mind. After M, every person I saw, that didn't exactly flow with the stream of the crowd, became a potential threat. Were they just an altered thought in my head, masking the true world around me, around everyone? Were they something from the otherside, watching me? Have they always been there, have they always watched us all, but now because of my recent experience, I see them too?

          I wanted desperately to tell someone, anyone, what I had experienced, but how could I? Who would believe anything I would say? Fuck, even if I didn't take into account all of my other mental instabilities , I wouldn't belive my story of a woman who wasn't there and the time lost to the malicious acts of that horrible night. 

     Plus, chances were, if I had told anyone what I had saw, explained why my right eye was blood shot red and the lids surrounding it had become swollen and purple, franticly throbbing, they would have sent me to a loony bin. 

     Honestly, for a time, I contemplated the idea of being sent to a physic ward, and not just because of the one night, the idea crossed my mind several times, before and after M. Recently, with everything that has been happening, the idea has crossed my mind again.

          It wasn't a bad idea either. I could get away from M and everything else that dwelled in what felt like the last stop before purgatory, aka my home. In doing so though, I would have to pretend that it was all in my head, that not one bit of it, actually happened. I would be letting the world win, by letting them think my bi-polar grew into something more, and I was now just another pill-popping nutcase. 

 The night I pulled that bloody string out of my eye, I convinced myself that I had proof of my story, in case anyone thought I was crazy. The next day however, I realized how silly that idea was. It wasn't enough proof to show everyone that spirits were/are real. Showing them the string would have brought the wrong kind of attention to myself. It would have just solidify my families worries for me. I needed hard evidence to show that M wasn't a bad dream, that my mind wasn't slowly losing itself to decay. Until then, I was on my own.

I'm currently back on sleeping medications. It helps better now then it did back then, which at the time only gave me a few hours of sleep but once the clock hit 3:33 AM, I was awake, usually in a cold sweat. As the months went on though, as the nights grew longer, I had less issues waking up in the middle of the witching hours. I eventually got off the meds, but I never really did learn how to have a full nights sleep again.

It was around that time, when I felt comfortable with living in constant fear of the night, that I learned spirits really don't care about the time of day. They are around us at all times, always moving, always phasing in and out of the realm of our senses, and altering perception and memory. It's hard to notice the small changes, names, dates, hell just numbers in general, so easily forgotten or confused. Which is how they get you to question things, like the small changes, because when you question the small things, then everything becomes... questionable. 

The reach these spirits have too, how far they can influence a mind. That, as I learned was just as scary as any experience. 

     In the late 90's the new craze sweeping the nation was buying webcams for your personal computers. Now, no longer were people confined to communicating to friends, family, or complete strangers, with just AOL's instant messenger. With the advancement in both video and internet technology, people could communicate with the power of a web browser camera. 

     Being young and determined, meant I had to be at the cusp of technology, and I needed to get myself a webcam so I could chat with friends online. Being young and broke meant that I would be on the clearance section at the cusp of technology. It didn't matter though, I had met a very lovely woman on the inter-webs and she made some very.... Interesting suggestions... But only if we both had webcams.

Before you even think it, yes she was a real woman, and not some 55 year old, obese man, looking to lure a younger man into the back of his white windowless van. I watched America's most Wanted, I knew the signs and I knew what to look for.

     The people who owned the building before my parents, turned the outside back patios of both the floors, into sunrooms. On the first floor, the room was connected to the kitchen, on the second floor, where I lived, it was connected to my bedroom. The bedroom itself was tiny, smaller than the sunroom, so small in fact, that I could barely fit both my bed and a dresser in it. So the sunroom is where I kept my TV and computer. It was a nice little setup, even had a futon in their facing the TV.

I had been home for about an hour or so after a long day of school, when Margret, the lovely woman from the internet, who was not a man, messaged me. I heard the notification bell my computer makes whenever I receive a massage. "Is now a good time? Are you parents around?"

Big honest smiles and vibrant red hair have always been my greatest weakness. I learned this as a young child, the night my parents forced my sister to take me along on her date with a not so suitable gentleman. My parents didn't trust her enough to be alone with this guy, but they trusted her enough to assume that she wouldn't take me to see an R rated film. Well she did, and the film she took me to see was Bram Stoker's Dracula. If you've seen the film, you'll understand my love for confident redheads.

     Which is exactly how Margret was. Beautiful and confident in herself, definitely way too good for me, and yet for some odd reason, she found me attractive. 

     We met on some random chat room, it's been so long though, that I can't remember what chatroom it was, I just remember answering three simple questions "A.S.L". I guess something about being a 17 year old guy from Chicago, just did it for her, or at least enough for us to start talking in  private chats. 

     She moved quickly and she wasn't the biggest fan of my hesitations. "Do you have the cam set up? Are your parents home?" She asked impatiently, as if we were in a do or die situation. I had bought a webcam the night before and mentioned to her. From that moment, she was ready to play the game of "I'll show you mine if your show me yours". Actually I was past due for showing her mine. 

   She was always honest with me, something that I truly loved about her, it made me feel safe, a theme you will notice with me. So early on she informed me that being nude in front of the camera wasn't new to her. There were other guys on the internet that she had shown herself too, it was a rush for her. I didn't care though, I knew nothing was gonna come from this, it was all just cyber fun, plus you know... boobs.

     What wasn't fun was that my nerves were shot and my hands shook with the frantic speed of a humming bird's wings. I had never done anything like this before. I mean, I had been with one girl at that point of my life, but that didn't change the fact that webcam nudity was new territory for me, and I wasn't sure as to how to approach it. Still I had to do it, I told myself, I needed to man up and give Michelle a show she would never forget. 

     I reached for the keyboard, stared at the screen all while trying desperately to shake off my anxiousness, so I could respond "Almost, my whole family is about to head out and watch some movie, so I'm gonna tell them I have too much homework to do and that I can't join them. Once they leave is when we can start." My heart was racing, I could actually feel the blood coursing through my veins with increasing velocity. The blood flow made my head feel weak and dizzy.

After about an hour my family said their goodbyes and headed to the movies and dinner. "We won't be back til late." My mother Massy yelled as she walked down the stairs. My mother was a tiny little woman, with the typical old lady short curly hair. Yet she had the voice of a viking when ever she yelled. 

 It was now past show time, my family had been gone for at least ten minutes, and at that point I was just wasting time, sitting on my bed, scared to shit. What if she found my body to be unattractive? What if she made fun of, the things I had to offer? None of it mattered, I reminded myself. I had to do this, I had something to prove, so I took a deep breath and proudly proclaimed "Here goes nothing." The last words of dead men.

     I turned on the web camera, and synced with her computer for a private event. We said our joking hellos, and she asked me if I was OK with this. She wanted to make sure that I felt comfortable, even if she was being pushy. I told her I was, but I needed a second, I wanted to check myself in the mirror one last time. She laughed "You're handsome, you have nothing to be nervous about. I get it though, I was scared to fucking hell my first time, so go ahead, we have all the time."

We really didn't though, eventually my family would return from the movies, but that was a technicality I wasn't gonna waste our limited time discussing. I quickly headed to the bathroom, not so much to make sure I looked fine, this was as good as I was gonna get, but more so for one last pep talk in the mirror. Get my head in the game, both of them.  

Then it happened, with every step towards the bathroom came a step towards the oppressing feeling I had the night M came to visit, as if I was making my way to something massive and hungry, with me being the only meal. Why now? The sun, while red, setting into the horizon, still shun its light through the windows of the sunroom and settling softly into my bedroom. I had always believed it's comforting glow would keep me safe, like my mother, all mothers, used to tell their children. 

Again, that gaze. The one I felt before, someone who wasn't there was watching my every move. The atmosphere became thick, it was hard to breath, I felt as if I was tumbling through, while gasping for air, between the crashing waves of a winding violent rapid. I reached for my chest to try and help myself breath deeply but quickly pulled it back when I felt my heart viciously hammering into my chest as if it would rather die then deal with what was up ahead.

"No!" I yelled to myself. "This was just anxiety from the cam show, it just finally got a hold of me." A desperate idea I attempted to use to free myself from my frozen drowning body. 

It worked, briefly, I stood in front of my bedroom door, that lead to to the bathroom hallway and dining room, my words of encouragement gave me the strength I needed to reach for the door handle. It shook in my hand. The screws, dull and loose from years of abuse, barely held the knob in its place on the heavy wooden door.

I half expected to hear the sounds of something inhuman, waiting for me on the other side, as I turned the creeky rusty knob. My expectations were shattered.

"Hel...lo?" A fractured, electronic sounding voice, coming from behind me.

( You don't belong here.)

The hairs on my arm raised high, as if they themselves were trying desperately to escape the disjointed voice I heard coming from behind me, coming from the sunroom. Spine tinglingly chills weakened my knees. I didn't want to turn around and see what was transpiring in that room.

"Haha, you ... so adorable and f...ny! but I'm ... tell yo... uncle to have you ... your face to me. ...Have to see ... really are."

 That voice, shattered and nestled in static.

"Now how do you ... that? You have ... even met ... before."

It took a moment to register, but I knew that voice, it was Margret's voice. Who was she talking too? I could barely hear her, but I couldn't make out any other voices. I started to think that she was just talking to herself or someone at her home, that was until I heard the creaking of the apartment's wood floors. 

It came from other side of the door with the sounds being distant and muffled at first. A second creek, a third, and fourth, each one louder and closer than the one before it.

 As the sounds came closer and closer to the door, it became clear that the old wood planks were being pushed upon by a heavy slow moving force.

Again the floors creaked and bent as something moved even closer, now it was coming from right across the door that I was standing in front of. The creaking became louder and the room started to sway back and forth, slowly. 

With the movement of the room, the thickness in the air and the sounds of wood giving away to an unseen pressure I felt as if I were trapped in the bottom decks of an old wooden ship, aged by the unrelenting force of the ocean. 

 The heavy movements stopped for a brief moment and the room slowed in its rocking but still moved like a hammock in a slow breeze. It was then that I noticed the room becoming darker. I watched in both horror and fascination as a shadow, fluidly moved from under the crack of the door and began to fill the room around me. I watched as the light from the fading sun behind me, became buried under a endless void that would drive even the greatest minds to madness. As it slowly made its way closer to the sunroom, objects in my room began to lose shape, I could no longer see what was where, if it was even there at all. 

Bile filled my throat as the darkness took hold of the world around me and movement of the room began to increase again. Then the sounds of wood snapping under some massive weight continued, but this time, the sounds were coming from my room, from right behind me!

"Scared? Well ... scared of t ... ... me, right?" Margret asked. Was she, and whoever it was that she was conversing with, talking about me? Was this silent voice telling Margret what was happening? Of how terrified I was at that very moment?

I felt a cold grip grab a hold of my soul, as I heard the creaking step behind me. . Not a malicious grip but one bursting with desire, a wanting for I had and for what it didn't. I began to understand what this thing wanted, it was obsessed with me, or more accurately it was obsessed with my essence.

My pervious thoughts of M were completely wrong. It wasn't her dead smile I felt on that first night. It was this... Thing! I knew I felt her presence sitting at my beds edge, that I never doubted, but when I felt her pacing at the bathroom door as I ripped that thread from my eye, it was because she was concerned, scared for me, and maybe for herself as well.

" Wait, ... Is M? ... he have ... girlfriend?" Margret asked hesitantly.

Margret mentioned M?! I knew now, for sure, that whoever Margret was talking to, that person was in my house. 

The sounds became more like steps as it made it's way to the sunroom, and with each step, the room swayed even harder. I could feel the wood floors beneath my feet begin to give way to the weight of this thing. I nearly lost my balance as one of the wood boards snapped and disappeared into the shadows.

Every fiber in my body begged me to just run out the bedroom, down to the front doors and make my way outside. To never turn back, to never return to this ghost filled abomination I reluctantly called home. My mind though, wouldn't let me. It was now perverse by all of this, it had become an adrenaline rush, a drug. I pierced into another world and my mind needed to know more.

"Oh, is yo... ..cle coming back? Well it was nice talking.. ... Sam, maybe next time you ... Be... scared so I ... your face."

     It seemed like the thing finally made it way to the doorway of the sunroom. The steps stopped and the room now jerked violently back and forth that I could barely stand. 

"Sam? Who's ... talking? ... sounds angry! Sam?!" Margret's voice was now filled with nervousness and concern, her happy playful attitude from just seconds ago, were now washed away. What did she hear? Was it the sinister  force which made its way across the room, that had changed her demeanor so quickly and deeply? 

I had to make my way back to the sunroom. I needed to know what was going on, but I was still so scared. I closed my eyes, and stumbled as I  turned my body towards the sunroom. Even though I knew I had yet to actually see a spirit, I was convinced that it was only a matter of time before I did. If there was a perfect time for a phantom to show itself, it would be at this moment. 

"Just open your eyes. Just open your eyes." I angerly told myself over "and over. Just open your eyes." 

Slowly I cracked open my eyes, one at a time and with a continuous flinch, until both were open fully, and ready to accept what lied before me, but just like before, nothing stood in front of me, and yet I knew something was there. I could feel it, and whatever this thing was, had a pull to it. The sensation of standing at the edge of a muddy steep incline, the ground slowly giving away to my weight, while this entity waited at the mouth of the drop with feverish hunger. It wanted something from me, but what I couldn't understand.

It didn't matter, I wasn't going to back down, I would learn all that I could while the opportunity was there. I gathered my nerves and cautiously took my first step. The floor now groaning to the extra pressure of my weight as I stumbled towards this thing. All light was now gone, I was in complete and total darkness, the air still filled my lungs like a thick liquid. I began to gasp for air, the room tossed and turned, I crashed into things in my room when either I fell towards them or when they shifted in the movement of the room.

My next step caused a loud pop in the floors causing me to fall completely, I was sure this thing ahead of me would notice my movements... nothing. I reached for where my bed should have been but the rocking of the room must have shifted it elsewhere. I couldn't get up and I could barely crawl. My breaths were getting more shallow and I was desperately fighting the vomit that continued to build in all the chaos. 

I heard Margret's voice one last time, but this time it was clear, there was no electrical static. "Sam?! Oh dear God Sam?! What the fuck ... is that?!"

                       Then... Silence.

                   (You don't belong here) 

Chapter 2: End

[laseroy89]

Little Arrows

A response to [WP] Your dog comes running back to you, whining, with sharp little things sticking out of her muzzle. At first you think she attacked a hedgehog or a porcupine, but upon further inspection you notice they are tiny, tiny arrows.

The sun was still quite low in the sky, so the temperature hadn’t risen much. There was a gentle breeze, which cooled me down after a walk around the neighbourhood with Cubo. It did cause my newspaper to rustle a little, but it remained stable enough for me to read, to the music of swaying tree branches and dried leaves rolling on the floor.

I took a sip from the cup of hot tea next to me, and glanced at Cubo, who was lounging on the grass, his jaws open and his tongue lolling about. I nodded approvingly before turning back to the article in my hand. Apparently our walk had tired him out sufficiently to stop annoying me.

There wasn’t anything of real interest in local news today. Yeah, some guy got robbed off Alms Street, public transport fares increased (again), prices of necessities increased (again), the mayor wants to run for office a second time (really?)…..blah, blah, blah. Boring, but I felt obliged to at least have a vague idea of what happened in my town.

A tiny, high-pitched sound. Whatever, must be a fly or something. I scanned the advertisement page. Hmmm….there’s a promotion at the Pancake Place. Must drop in later to get some discounts.

Another shrill yelp. Shut up, Cubo. I’ll give you your damn food in twenty minutes. Patience, my dear little hound.

It was a mistake to ignore that second sound, because the next one I heard resembled that of a horse neighing.

I jumped up with a start. What the hell was that? There were no birds at this time of the year, and certainly no horses, donkeys, cows or whatever large mammals. The only animal in sight was Cubo, and it’s not possible for him to make that sound - yup, it was him. I had no idea that he could do that.

Cubo had jumped up from his relaxed lying position, and was looking at something in the grass. He was constantly pacing and wagging his tail rapidly, afraid of something I couldn’t see. He remained in that tense state for a few more seconds before turning around and bounding towards me.

“What is it, little guy?” I set aside my initial annoyance, adopting a more worried tone. Cubo whimpered in return, and looked pitifully up at me. It didn’t take long for me to see that her snout was bleeding.

“Oh you little monster, what the hell did you do? Annoy some random spider - wait, what?” A closer look revealed some spines sticking out. They were so thin that they were almost invisible against the dark colour of his fur.

“Cubo, how many times have I told you not to play with wild hedgehogs!” I chided him, but felt doubt welling up. Hedgehog spines aren't detachable. Porcupines, perhaps? But their spines aren’t so long and thin. Furthermore, I would have seen both types of animals in the lawn. Also, Cubo wasn’t playing just now; he had been resting in the grass, motionless save for his habitual lolling of his tongue and slow wagging of his tail. Whatever had attacked him had done so without provocation.

I examined the spines. They were black in colour. While they were as thin as a thread, they were quite rigid, like they were made out of….plastic. And they had this little….knob at the tip.

I touched one of the spines, but Cubo whimpered so loudly that I let go immediately. Oh my, can’t imagine how painful it must be for him. Alright, it’s a trip to the vet then.

But I couldn’t resist finding out what it was that attacked him.

I strode out into my lawn, taking slow and deliberate steps while surveying the grass round my feet. Little by little, I got closer to the flattened patch where Cubo had been earlier.

I couldn’t see anything out of the norm. It was just grass and moist dirt. However, the naked skin below my knees suddenly felt so cold, so vulnerable. As if expecting something to happen.

And then everything went haywire.

It was a bad idea to be wearing shorts and flip flops, really. In an instant, I felt numerous needles of pain piercing through my feet, not dissimilar to ant bites. In quick succession. I yowled in agony immediately, and started stomping furiously all over the grass while looking down, trying to find out what was happening.

I didn't know what to expect. A bunch of tiny gnomes, shooting arrows at me, revenge for settling on their land? I wish I was correct.

I was right about the arrows thing. Those little spines were miniature arrows, and I didn't know why I didn't recognise them earlier. They were very, very sharp, and pierced my skin surface with ease. Those little knobs at the end? They were for notching those arrows onto their bowstrings.

And the gnomes thing? Yup, it would have been more believable, to at least have small little humanoids shooting small little humanoid weapons at me, but nope. They were ants.

Can you imagine it? Insects waging war on humans, not through the usual way of inflicting bites through their sharp mandibles, but by human technology, i.e. bows and arrows? What the shit man.

Oh, talking about human technology, I could make out some small little lights and tiny triangular structures approaching from the bushes in the dim morning light. Yup, those little insects were going to launch flaming projectiles at me using trebuchets. Oh, what did I do to deserve this?

It all came back in a flash, as I continued my dance of destruction all over the lawn, with all the ant armour crackling below my flimsy slippers.

The barbecue four nights ago. We were having one whale of a time, getting drunk off cheap beer and stuffing ourselves with chunks of meat. Then one of my friend had a brilliant idea.

He was a YouTuber. Sort of. He got interested in those ant art videos that went viral a few months ago. To be honest, those videos were fascinating. A random guy would find an ant nest, pour molten aluminium inside the entrance hole, wait for it to cool then dig out a sculpture molded in the shape of the ant nest. Pretty rad, if you ask me. This friend of mine started doing that too, and was attracting a decent amount of views. He was looking for a new ant nest, and he found that right in the centre of my lawn.

He poured the aluminium inside that ant nest. But because we were piss-drunk, he did it slowly....and must have let some ants escaped. And while we waited for the aluminium to cool, we went indoors to sleep....and forgot about it.

I had no idea how those ants were able to make such technological advances in four days. All I know was that it explained the sharp arrows and the armour, probably made of the aluminium we so willingly gifted them.

Oh man....I need to get out of this place.