#Resistance to Control

[entertainment]

choose your friend (no fighters here :)

📸: @overchers

[da-janela-lateral]

Dia dos namorados? Today!? NO!!!! Post aro Tsubomi right now

[bestjeanistmonster]

Dc au- jumping on the ‘making shadow suffer’ bandwagon and it’s been fun so far

[pratchettquotes]

Besides, she thought as she watched Wazzer drink, you only thought the world would be better if it was run by women if you didn't actually know many women. Or old women, at least. Take the whole thing about the dimity scarves. Women had to cover their hair on Fridays, but there was nothing about this in the Book, which was pretty dar--pretty damn rigorous about most things. It was done because it had always been done that way. And if you forgot, the old women got you. They could practically see through walls. [...]

Polly had forgotten her dimity scarf. She did wear it at home on Fridays, for no other reason than that it was easier than not doing so. She vowed that, if she ever got back, she'd never do it again.

Terry Pratchett, Monstrous Regiment

[fusionsprunt]

to sum it up, drink water. plenty of it.

I refuse to acknowledge character ref sheets anymore so i'll keep adding new changes to a design until i'm satisfied with the result.

[crystalrose043]

Yeah so i had an idea that bill would have to fix all the damage he did on Earth as a last trial to be freed from the Theraprism... and also i am bad at drawing cartoons and it always ends up looking like adventure time 😭 i think my dialogue/characterization is always so cringe and ooc so thats why i almost never upload fanart anymore 💀

[luxaofhesperides]

For the ghostlights drabbles: “Say my name” with a favor being called in?

Duke had saved Phantom years ago, back when he was just out of high school and working to take down a branch of the government that was kidnapping and experimenting on people, targeting magic users and metas. Phantom had been working on his own to take them down, and they met in the middle, trashing a lab and freeing as many people as they could.

They had managed to shoot his back, knocking him down and making him bleed a glowing green. Phantom couldn’t move, protecting two kids with his body, and Duke couldn’t reach them in time before they were taken away by another swarm of agents. 

He was able to go after them in time, free Phantom and the kids, and evacuated the victims before Phantom rained hell down on the facility.

At the end, standing in the background as they watched paramedics treat the victims and take them towards the nearest hospitals, Phantom had turned towards him and thanked him.

Or rather, he thanked the Signal and offered him a bracelet with a rounded orb of ice, glowing faintly in the dark. If you ever need me, he had said, Hold this, and call me name.

Phantom vanished once the last of the victims were transported to a safer location, and Duke hadn’t seen him since.

He’s kept up with news about Phantom as best he can, but from what he could tell, Phantom is based primarily in Amity Park, Illinois, and the town is fiercely protective of their hero. News rarely leaks out of there, and with them running on their own servers and independent internet, it was nearly impossible to get in from the outside. 

Phantom remained a curious and distant figure in Duke’s life. He holds onto the bracelet still, guarding it carefully and sometimes running his fingers over the ice that never melts.

But he doesn’t call in that favor. He’s never to.

At least, not until now.

Sucking in a breath, Duke prepares himself and holds the orb of ice in the palm of his hand. He’s in civies, unable to hide his identity for this, and closes his eyes. “Phantom,” he says.

For a moment, nothing happens. Duke blinks his eyes open and frowns, mind already forming new plans to contact Phantom. Then the ice goes bitingly cold, almost painful, and the temperature in the room drops dramatically. The ice lifts up from his hand, floating in the air, then cracks open.

White-blue light spills out of it, growing brighter as it seems to swallow up the room entirely. Duke hurries to back up, an arm thrown up to protect his eyes. His breath mists out before him and he shivers as the sound of ice cracking fills the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the light disappears and the cold fades away like a bad dream. 

Slowly, Duke lowers his arm and looks up at Phantom, floating in the middle of his living room with a crown made of ice, engulfed in blue fire, hovers above his head. He looks older, more regal, holding his head high. 

He regards Duke carefully for a minute, then tilts his head and says, “Signal?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Man, I’m so glad you came.”

“You… need help with something? You’re calling in your favor now, right?”

Duke nods. He understands Phantom’s confusion; being in the hero business means that favors like these tend to be used only during the most hopeless of times, when the world is close to ending, when the chances of getting out of a situation alive is close to impossible. It’s exactly the kind of thing Duke was expecting to call Phantom in for.

Not the kid sleeping on his couch.

“You’re a ghost, yeah?”

Phantom blinks at him. “Ghost king, now. Why?”

“Well…” Duke rubs the back of his neck, nervously. “I didn’t really know who else to call, and I can’t do this on my own since I’m not a ghost. But this kid got attached to me and won’t leave, so now I’m taking care of her and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know why you think I have any experience with kids but—”

“She’s a ghost.”

Phantom stops short. “Ah. I see.” He floats down until his feet touch the floor, and then he’s standing like any other person. “Where…?”

Duke looks past Phantom’s shoulder, and Phantom turns to follow his gaze. Chelsea, the ghost girl, looks to be around nine years old and is fast asleep on the couch, curled up under Duke’s softest blanket.

“Signal,” Phantom says quietly, “What, exactly, is the favor you need from me?”

“You can say no,” Duke starts. “I get that this is a lot. But I need help raising her. And since you’re a ghost, I figured you could help me learn about the ghostly side of things. You don’t have to raise her with me or anything! Just… I would appreciate any help you’re willing to give me.”

Phantom doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at Chelsea, an unreadable expression on his face. 

On the couch. Chelsea shifts in her sleep, brows furrowing as she makes a choked noise in the back of her throat.

Moving on autopilot after so many nights of this routine, Duke kneels next to the couch, fishing one of her hands from beneath the blanket. He gives it a few reassuring squeezes, keeping it a slow rhythm to pull her gently from her nightmare. She settles down in just a minute, brow smoothing out as she continues to sleep. 

The silence grows and Duke is all too aware that his heart is the only one beating. 

He doesn’t hear Phantom move. Doesn’t realize he’s right next to him until he sees Phantom’s hand reach out towards Chelsea. When Duke looks, Phantom is sitting on the floor next to Duke, looking at Chelsea with something soft and devastated in his eyes. His hand hovers about her head for a long moment, then slowly lowers to rest on her head. 

The touch looks gently, barely putting any pressure on her head, but it’s enough to make Chelsea’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake. She stares at Phantom with wide eyes, then sits up and looks between him and Duke.

“Who are you?” she asks in a small voice that makes Duke want to stand against the world to keep her safe. 

Phantom smiles. It’s casual and charming and makes him look like anyone else, as if he’s not a powerful king from a realm unreachable to humans. “Hi there,” he says, “I’m Danny. I’m a ghost like you. Signal called me and asked me to meet you.”

The Ghost King is good with kids. Who would have thought?

Chelsea looks at him for confirmation and only relaxes when he nods. “I’m Chelsea. What do you mean ghost? I’m not dead.”

Both he and Phantom tense, carefully keeping their expressions neutral. She hasn’t told him much at all, just that her parents were gone and forgot her and she got hurt, so she wanted to stay with ‘Mr. Signal’ because he’s a hero and heroes keep people safe and he was the only one who was Black like her. Duke hadn’t had the heart to say no, and began searching for her family, only to find that her parents had fled the state, and likely the country, after killing their only child through neglect and a dangerous environment. 

It was then that he realized that her powers were not because she was a meta, but because she was ghost.

It still hurts to realize how young she is, how much of her life had been stolen from her in an instant. Duke hadn’t been brave enough to broach the topic with her, instead choosing to let her grow comfortable in his presence, get them both settled into a routine now that he was her primary guardian. 

“I know it sounds scary,” Phantom says, “And you may not want to believe me, but it’s true. I’m sorry that you died so young, but that just means you get to hang out with me and other ghosts from now on!”

Chelsea crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “I am not dead,” she says.

“Cici, I’m sorry to say this, but you are,” Duke cuts in. “That’s why I called… Danny. You have new powers as a ghost, and he can help you get used to them.”

“I’m not dead!” she says again.

“Kid,” Phantom begins, but Chelsea shakes her head hard and hops off the couch.

“I’m not lying! Watch, I’ll prove it to you!” She closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose, concentrating. Her hands curl into tight fists by her sides, and the glow around her grows dim. Two faint, stuttering rings of light appear around her waist. They flicker and wobble in the air, as if weak and uncertain of their own existence, then split apart, one moving up towards her head while the other falls to her feet.

Beside him, Phantom sucks in a sharp breath, but Duke can’t turn to see what’s wrong when he’s trying to take in the sight of Chelsea suddenly full of vibrant color, looking more solid that he’s ever seen her, very much alive.

“See?” she says proudly, lifting her arms and doing a spin to show off her right she was. “I told you I’m not dead!”

“No, you’re not,” Phantom agrees, sounding shell-shocked. When Duke is finally able to look away from Chelsea to check on him, he looks awed. There’s the smallest smile on his face, just the slightest upturn of his lips, but it makes him look softer.

Duke turns his attention back to Chelsea before he can be caught staring. “Cici, can you come here for a second?”

She goes before he’s finished speaking, crossing the space between them in a single jump, then grins up at him. Her hair is a bit of a mess, the two buns he managed to get her hair into falling askew. He makes a note to visit the old aunties in the Narrows later to ask them to teach him how to do hair. For now, he holds out a hand and Chelsea drops an arm into it.

It seems to good to be true, having her be alive, but her pulse is steady and strong when he presses his thumb against the inside of her wrist. 

“Well,” he says, leaning back and letting go of her arm. “You certainly proved us wrong.”

Chelsea doesn’t have much time to look smug before PHantom quietly says, “You’re like me.”

“What?”

“You’re like me,” he tells Chelsea. “A halfa.”

She tilts her head to one side. “What’s that?”

“Someone who is half human and half ghost. Both dead and alive.”

Duke blinks, taking in the words, then turns to face Phantom so quickly he’s worried he might give himself whiplash. Halfa, he said. Like me, he said. 

And sure enough, two rings of light, bright and strong, appear around Phantom’s waist before splitting in half, moving over his entire body. 

Gone is the Ghost King, all powerful and adorned in dark clothing with a crown of ice above his head. In his place is a guy who looks to be Duke’s age, eyes a deep blue and his black hair messy, feet set solidly on the floor. He looks completely normal, completely human, and no longer an impossibility.

“You still up for learning how to use all your new powers?” Phantom asks.

Chelsea grins. “Yeah!” And then, with a quick flick of her eyes going from Phantom to Duke that he almost misses, very innocently asks, “Are you going to stay with us then?”

“I… don’t know?” Phantom looks to Duke for an answer.

Already, Duke can see this going two ways. The correct way forward, the normal one, has Phantom popping in every so often, taking Chelsea out for a few hours to work on training her and her powers. It’s easy and routine and they can keep their boundaries uncrossed and be professional. 

The other path is what Duke wants most that he shouldn’t impose onto the literal Ghost King. He could have Phantom living with them while he’s on Earth and out of Amity Park, having a place at the table, a section in the closet for his own clothes, a quietly domestic night together while Chelsea sleeps where they can get to know each other more, get to know each other outside of news reports and texts on a screen.

“You can stay with us if you want,” Duke offers, casually, “It might keep my apartment safe from her powers acting up on their own again.”

“Are you sure? I could always just fly in on the weekends or something.”

“I’d appreciate having you around. So you can help Cici.”

“If you don’t mind,” Phantom says, looking away. Like this, fully alive with a beating heart, it’s easy to see the blush steal away across his cheeks. 

“I don’t.”

“I don’t either!” Chelsea pops in, looking far too gleeful by their awkward conversation.

Duke can’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The relief of knowing that Chelsea is alive, for the most part at least, eases the guilt of thinking he had been too late to save her, that there was no chance she could have made it out and had a future, makes him feel weak. All the exhaustion of the past few weeks hits him all at once and he wants nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Alright, squirt,” he says, reaching out to pat her head. “It’s late. We can talk more in the morning, so go to bed. In your actual bed this time, not on the couch.”

Chelsea stands up taller, ready to argue, but Duke gives her a Look™ and she quickly shuts her mouth, nods, and drags her feet back to her room (the former guestroom he can never give any of the other Waynes ever again, once they find out about her). 

Sighing, Duke collapses onto the couch once he hears the door shut behind her. Phantom joins him after a few seconds, sitting tentatively on the edge of the couch. The cushion moves beneath his weight, another reminder of how solid and alive he is right not.

Duke wants to touch him, to reach out and feel for himself his pulse, the warmth of his body, his chest lifting with each breath. 

He doesn’t move. He stays where he is, hands carefully still, and tries to think past the dizzying thoughts of she’s still alive, I’m not too late, he’s still here, he’s alive.

“Rough week?” Phantom asks, voice purposefully light.

“Something like that.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can. Not after everything. My mind’s too loud right now.”

Phantom shifts closer to him, hesitant in a way that Duke has never seen before in him, and asks, “Want me to stay with you until you mind quiets down some?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks, Phantom.”

“You know, if I’m going to be around so often as Chelsea’s halfa mentor, then you might as well call me Danny.”

Truth be told, Duke didn’t think that was his real name. He’s glad to know it’s not. 

“Then call me Duke.”

“...Are you sure? You could still hide your identity from me.”

“Nah, I trust you. A name for a name, yeah?”

Danny smiles. “Duke,” he says, testing out the name, and it’s never sounded better than when it falls from Danny’s mouth.

“Danny,” Duke returns. He belatedly realizes that they’ve leaned towards each other, drawn together like gravity, stuck in each other’s orbit. It feels natural. It feels like this is where they’re meant to be.

Maybe he should be more cautious. They’ve only meant once before, after all. But he’s read all he could on Phantom and has seen how Amity Park loves him. He’s stressed and exhausted and trying to figure out how to look after a half-ghost child that’s already been dealt a bad hand in life. He should be keeping Phantom at a distance, watching over him carefully to ensure he isn’t a threat to Chelsea.

But Duke saw how he acted with Chelsea, so gentle and understanding and kind. That’s all he needed to see.

He may not know much about Danny, but he knows this: he is trustworthy.

Enough to entrust his identity to him.

Enough to entrust Chelsea to him.

It’s more than a favor; it’s a promise to walk this road together. 

There’s no one he’d rather do this with. 

“Thanks,” he says again, “For all of this. I know it’s a lot.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t mind. Really. It’s nice to know there’s another halfa out there, no matter how she came to be one. Makes things feel less lonely.”

“Will you tell me more about halfas?”

“Later. Once you get some proper rest. We’ve got time, haven’t we?”

“We do,” Duke agrees, affection settling warm in his chest. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Learning how to control her new powers won’t be easy for Chelsea. Learning how to take care of her won’t be easy. Learning how to do things together, as Duke and Danny rather than the Signal and Phantom, won’t be easy. But Duke knows with a certainty he feels in his bones that they’re going to be fine.

So long as they’ve got each other, they’ll be fine.

[oliversrarebooks]

Human Resistance: Inevitable

tw: brainwashing, mind control, drugging, captivity, dehumanization

Masterlist

Jesse was floating, floating for a long time in a state on the edge between sleep and wakefulness, warm and comfortable and safe. It was an agonizingly slow process that drew him back up towards full consciousness, thoughts and feelings returning to him.

He was hungry. That was his first thought. The resistance had been operating on meager rations for a while, constantly in danger of running out of food, and on top of that, he had no idea how long it had been since he'd last eaten. Even if all they had was canned beans and a bit of forage, he'd be happy to take it, just to quiet the constant nagging of his belly for a little while.

He was just about to sleepily roll out of his cot when he realized he wasn't in his cot at all.

Jesse flew the rest of the distance to alertness as he remembered where he was. He was in a comfortable, padded sort of chair, surrounded by smooth walls and a translucent window to the outside, just big enough to hold one person. He'd been captured, along with Zach, and brought aboard one of the colony ships.

No, it couldn't be. It had to be one of his frequent nightmares. But it was all too vivid and real, and as he instinctively brought his hand to his throat, he felt the thin band of metal, the alien collar marking him as one of theirs. Hand trembling, he followed the band around to the back of his neck, and he felt the spot where it fused into his spine briefly before pulling back in horror.

He'd been collared, controlled, never again to be free unless by some miracle he was rescued and underwent the same risky surgery that Zach had.

Maybe… maybe it was better…

No, they were trying to control his mind. They had to resist.

The pod's cover retracted, and to Jesse's surprise and relief, he was greeted by Zach. Zach miraculously wasn't wearing any collar, and he wasn't with any of the enemy, either. He'd gotten free, somehow, just like Jesse always knew he could.

"You came to rescue me," Jesse croaked out, his voice hoarse from deep sleep. "They collared me. I'm sorry, I couldn't stop them."

Zach frowned. "How are you feeling after that? Are you all right?"

"I feel like I've been drugged, like I can't be as terrified as I should be. It's hard to think. But what about you? They didn't collar you. You're free."

Zach held up his wrist, where a thin band of metal shimmered. "The scarring from my collar removal surgery is too severe. They've given me this temporary device. Our Superior had other obligations, so I'm going to take us where we need to go."

"Temporary collar?" Jesse's heart sank. Zach was under their control after all -- he'd been stupid to hope for different. But still… "If it's temporary, it can be removed, right?" Jesse glanced around to make sure none of the aliens were in the immediate vicinity. "And if you can remove it, that means you might be able to escape."

"Jesse." His face was sad and serious as he put a hand on Jesse's shoulder. "It's over."

"What? No, it's not over!" Jesse shrugged off the hand. "We can't just surrender like this. If they haven't given you a real collar yet, you could escape. You could get back and let the others know where we --"

"Get back to where?"

"To the resistance!"

"And do what?" Zach's eyes were hard. "There's hardly any of us left, Jesse, you know that. We have barely any food, much less weapons. We go back to the resistance and drag it out a few more weeks, just barely surviving, only to end up back here a third time?"

"You can't mean that."

"I'm sorry. I really am. But I've realized now that being a leader means knowing when it's over."

The worst part about what Zach was saying was that Jesse could hardly deny it. He'd thought the same. Jesse had heard the whispers growing louder. He'd been in the strategy meetings that went nowhere because they didn't have enough people or weapons or supplies to carry out a meaningful attack on any of the enemies' larger ships. Lately, they'd barely had enough to ambush the tiniest of transport crafts, save a handful of humans. And so many had simply given up and walked out into the enemy territory. Not to mention those who had taken an even more final way out.

"It can't be over." Jesse had never had a plan for his life. The resistance was the first thing that he'd really cared about, the first place where he'd felt like he'd belonged.

"There might be other groups of resistance fighters still out there. Maybe they'll succeed some day and free us all," said Zach. "But it won't be us. I'm sorry. It's over."

"I'm not just going to accept that. Not even from you." Jesse backed away from Zach, looking around to see if any of the enemy were paying attention. "If you won't even try to get out, then I will."

"You can't --"

As Zach began to march away, a shock came over his body, freezing him in place and dazing his mind. It was like being stunned with a taser, except that there was no pain, just disorientation. The drumbeat of comply - comply - comply rang in his head.

"You can't just leave. Not with one of their collars." Zach had his hands on Jesse's shoulders, guiding him back. "They can detect if you're doing something unauthorized."

"Oh, fuck this," said Jesse. He slammed his fist into one of the pods, not even making a dent. None of the aliens seemed to even notice. He hit it again, and again, and again, until his hand stung.

"Feel better?" asked Zach as Jesse stood there nursing his hand.

"No. What now?"

"We're supposed to report to the infirmary for a physical."

"I don't want some alien examining me," said Jesse half-heartedly, knowing that it didn't matter.

"C'mon."

Zach led them to the room's exit, and this time nothing stopped them. That collar had somehow detected the difference between Zach taking them where they were supposed to go and Jesse trying to escape, before he'd even left the room. He really was fucking screwed.

One of the aliens stopped them at the door, ran a tentacle across Jesse's collar and Zach's wristband, and opened the door. They emerged into a circular corridor with a narrow flat walkway at the bottom. Jesse couldn't help but flinch when an alien rounded the corner. It was reflex after so many years of training to avoid them. And now, he was in the heart of a colony ship, surrounded by the enemy for good.

"Infirmary's right next to the training area."

"How do you know that?"

"All of the pet stations are laid out about the same."

Sure enough, the next set of double glass doors opened for Zach, and they entered a sterile, clinical sort of area. There were a few humans in examination chairs being attended to by aliens, and a few others on tables. At least one looked like they were actually getting some kind of surgery, just out in the open in the clinic.

Before Jesse could balk, he and Zach were each picked up by aliens and deposited in chairs side-by-side. A sensor was attached to Jesse's collar, and the alien was looking back and forth between Jesse and a sort of tablet it was holding. Jesse could only assume that some kind of medical information was being sent to the tablet.

Without warning, one of the tentacles jabbed him in the elbow, releasing another dose of the thing's venom. Jesse relaxed as that sedated feel stole over him again, his cares fading. When the alien next picked up his hands to examine them, he didn't resist -- even though he still knew that his docility was induced by the conditioning, the collar, and the drugs, it didn't help him fight against it.

The aliens clearly didn't care about human pets' privacy, because Jesse could see and hear Zach's physical. An alien was carefully examining his knee. This is overdue for maintenance. How is your locomotion?

"A little stiff and painful, but nothing like it was before my knee was replaced," said Zach.

Your Superior will be contacted to arrange for your maintenance.

"All right."

You will also need your spinal cord repaired where your collar was located. There may also be neurological damage from abruptly stopping your medications.

"I'm aware, yeah."

You and the new pet are both suffering from poor nutrition and sleep deprivation. You require nutrients.

Jesse turned his head to see an alien approaching with a syringe that was way too large for comfort, and even through his sedation he felt his fear rise. "Wait, what is that?"

Nutrition. With no further explanation, the needle was plunged into Jesse's arm, and all he could do was turn away. Zach was having the same thing done to him.

You will receive food. You will attend to hygiene. Once these are complete, you will return to your Superior's chamber and sleep in your pod for a minimum of three-quarters of a cycle. The old pet will guide the new.

"Yeah, all right," said Zach easily.

"Are those orders?" Jesse was trying to fight the drugs in his system, trying to get back some of his fire.

Yes. Those are orders.

Once again, the compulsion to comply and be obedient that the conditioning had drilled into his head kicked in, washing out his thoughts of resistance, at least until the alien started to tug his t-shirt over his head.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

Uniform.

The tentacles moved much faster than Jesse could dodge while slowed down by sedatives, and in a flash it had undressed him and put him in a soft, dark blue garment that was like a cross between a jumpsuit and pajamas. "What are you doing with my clothes?"

They will be delivered to your Superior's chamber. And with that, Jesse's favorite t-shirt was whisked away out of sight.

Your examination is complete. Your health information will be given to your Superior. Your medications will also be given to your Superior. You will now follow your prescribed orders.

"What, don't I get to see my own health info?"

It will be sent to your Superior.

Of course. He shouldn't be surprised. He didn't protest when Zach took his arm and led him out of the infirmary.

"Are you okay?" asked Zach once they'd exited back out into the corridor. He was wearing a uniform identical to Jesse's except in size.

"Other than feeling like an animal sent to the vet, yeah, I guess I'm okay," he said. "Are you?"

"Yeah, that was pretty routine. They're going to send me for maintenance on my knee," said Zach. "Only the doctors at the resistance base knew about this, but the aliens replaced my knee with one of their artificial joints."

"You let them replace your knee?"

Zach chuckled. "Do you really think they asked me?"

"Guess not."

"It was a big improvement, to be honest, even though it needs maintenance. It was starting to get stiff during my time at the base. I guess… well, whatever," said Zach. "They're making us get food, baths, and sleep, and I'm not in the mood to object, are you?"

Jesse was starving by now, and completely wiped from the dangerous mission earlier in the day and the stress of the capture, so that itinerary sounded just fine to him. Not that it would matter even if he were in the mood to object. Zach himself had driven home how pointless it'd be. "No, I'm not," he said. "What's the food like? Gross alien shit? Didn't you say it was replicated?"

Zach had been leading them through a few snaking corridors as they talked, barely paying attention to where he was going. He looked just as confident and at home as he ever had in the base. He was completely used to this, Jesse realized. At ease. At home. As though he'd never even left.

"Yeah, it's replicated," Zach replied. "They can make basically anything you can think of. The texture's way off, but it tastes right. No, I don't know how it works."

"It's probably drugged up, right? Or poisoned."

"If they want to drug us, they just do it. I don't think they put it in the food, but it wouldn't make much of a difference if they did."

They entered the cafeteria, where a lot of people in multi-colored uniforms were eating and chatting. While many of them were dressed in just a plain uniform, a lot of them had embellishments like sparkling hair decorations and flashy jewelry. They were laughing and talking freely, and Jesse hated that they all looked so happy.

Zach approached a row of purple machines on the far wall, picking up a tray and placing it in a window in one of the machines. "This interfaces with your collar. All you have to do is decide what you want to eat, visualize it in your mind, and it'll replicate that for you."

That sounded too good to be true, but Jesse was starving enough to give it a shot. Food had been tight for a long time in the resistance camp. At first there was lots of food to scavenge from populated areas, and the rural areas didn't have much alien surveillance, so they also had access to farms, hunting, and fishing. But the aliens took more and more territory, installing surveillance and flying drones even in remote areas, shrinking what was available to the resistance. The resources that were easy to access had dwindled, especially since they had to move every time one of the encampments was detected.

Jesse didn't miss his old job, but he did miss food from before the invasion. It'd been so long since he'd been able to do something as simple as share a pizza with friends.

"Pepperoni pizza and a coke," he said, trying to imagine how it looked and tasted. The machine whirred and deposited his meal on the tray. The cup of cola looked normal, but the pizza slices looked more like a plastic model of pizza than the real thing. "You're sure this is edible, Zach?"

"Edible enough." Zach had summoned a huge plate of tacos, which had the same toy-like quality. "Try it and find out."

They sat down at an unoccupied table, and Jesse experimentally lifted the slice of "pizza" to his nose. It was warm, and it did smell right. His stomach growled in protest. Across from him, Zach began wolfing down tacos like there was no tomorrow.

He finally took a bite. Zach had been right, the texture was off, a little too spongy to be pizza. But it tasted good, and soon Jesse was shoveling his food down too. God, he'd missed this. He'd missed having enough food to eat at all. It was almost enough to make him forget the strangeness of eating lunch in a colony ship.

By the time he'd finished, Jesse's misgivings about the food had quieted, and he went back to the machine for more pizza and some wings. When he got back to the table, there was a young woman in an orange uniform sitting next to Zach, her thick ponytail bobbing as she talked. Jesse realized who she was -- Nina, one of the runners for the human resistance, who'd disappeared on a mission around two months ago.

"Jesse, hey! Good to see you!" she said as cheerful as anything.

"Is it good to see me? I've been captured."

She shrugged as though it weren't a big deal. He guessed it wasn't to her. If she'd been here for a couple of months, she'd probably already been fully conditioned and turned to their side.

"We just got here earlier today," said Zach. "It's going to take some time for Jesse to adjust."

Jesse noticed that he didn't include himself in that statement. "I'm in no hurry to adjust."

Nina brushed it off. "I understand it better now, what you were going through, Zach. I can't imagine being pulled out of here. It must've been hard."

He shot a glance at Jesse before answering. "Yeah, it was. But I'm back now."

"So you defected?"

"No," he said tersely.

"Really? I did."

"You defected?" said Jesse.

"Well, yeah. Things were hell, and it's not like we really had a chance."

Jesse stood up, pushing his tray away. "We were doing our fucking best! We all thought you had been caught, not that you'd willingly thrown yourself away! You were one of the last decent runners in the place, and you just -- you just -- " He wobbled, dizzy from the drugs he'd been given earlier, his thoughts scattering. Maybe it was the collar, too, keeping him in line.

Zach stood up and pushed Jesse back down into his seat. "Calm down, Jesse. She's been conditioned, you know that."

"How does that make it better? They're going to do the same thing to us, aren't they? Or I guess they've already done it to you. Am I the only one left who think humanity deserved a better future?"

The cafeteria was silent around him, all eyes on Jesse, He could feel the eyes of the alien supervisors on him, no doubt just waiting to drug him and drag him off if he stepped too far out of line. But none of that really mattered, because the look on Zach's face was heartbreaking.

"C'mon, Zach. Don't you think we all deserved better?"

"I think that we don't always get what we deserve."

Jesse felt like he could cry. "Am I the only one left who believes the resistance has a chance?"

The silence was deafening. Jesse sat down again, defeated.

"Sorry," said Nina. "I know we were doing our best. I didn't mean to say…"

"Whatever. I don't care what you think," said Jesse. "I'm sure the magical brainwashing boxes will convince me that defecting is a-okay, and then we can be the best of friends."

"I think I'm going to go," she said, standing up. "Sorry I upset you. I'm glad I got to see you two again." Nina picked up her tray and practically ran to a different table.

"Are you okay with that?" asked Jesse.

"Okay with what?"

"She just admitted to defecting. She was a traitor."

"What would you like me to do, Jesse, scold her? Get her arrested? I'm not a leader of anything anymore, and the aliens certainly aren't going to punish her for doing what they want."

Jesse knew he was right, but it still stung. If less people had given up and defected, maybe they still would've had a chance. But it wasn't like they could compete with infinite free food.

Or maybe Jesse had just been a shit leader.

Maybe if Zach had never gotten captured, it wouldn't have turned out this way. Sometimes he couldn't help being angry at Zach for that, even if it wasn't his fault.

"We did deserve better," Zach said. "You're not wrong about that. You deserved better, a better leader than me."

"Don't say that. You're a great leader. None of this was your fault."

"It was my fault you got captured."

"I chose to go on the mission with you. It's not like I don't do dangerous missions all the time," said Jesse. "And without you as leader… I didn't know what I was doing. That's when everything started going downhill. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

"It's definitely not your fault. Don't even say that." Zach sighed. "Maybe this was all just inevitable. Maybe most of us are better off this way."

"You don't mean that. That's what the aliens are putting in your head."

Zach didn't look especially convinced. "Sure."

Jesse's heart sank, his appetite lost, and for the first time since they'd been captured, he wondered if it really might be the end of the line. He saw what the alien conditioning did to Zach the first time, what it was doing to him even now. They'd do the same to him. He could already feel it starting, the all too tempting urge to just accept life as a pet on a colony ship. It had to be so much stronger for Zach.

Who would be left to rescue them? To rehabilitate them, the way Zach had been? Who would have the time, the resources, the skills? And then what?

"Hey, Jesse," said Zach. "If you're done eating, we're supposed to be hitting the showers. We could both use it."

Jesse's ravenous appetite from earlier was gone. "Yeah, I'm done. Let's go."

They passed a kind of gymnasium on the way to the showers, the big round windows revealing people jogging and playing basketball. It looked bizarrely normal. "How the hell is there a basketball court on the colony ship?" asked Jesse.

"They copied a lot of human things. They were probably studying us before the invasion, too. There's a lot of random things on the ship like the basketball courts that they built to try to keep people happy: swimming pools, parks, theaters, things like that."

Jesse tried not to be happy about that. It wasn't a fair tradeoff for freedom. He had to stay on his guard and not let himself think of this as a home, or think of the aliens as benevolent. They were the enemy.

"Here we are." The double doors to the bathing area opened and Jesse wasn't quite prepared for it. The showers were all out in the open, surrounding a large bathing pool. People of every gender were lounging around stark naked with zero privacy. Jesse didn't think of himself as a prude, but he felt a little self-conscious about it.

"The aliens don't really have a concept of personal privacy," said Zach, noticing his discomfort. "It's something you get used to."

"Right," said Jesse. It wasn't like he hadn't been in locker rooms before. This just felt different somehow.

Zach walked over to a set of cubbies and pulled his uniform off. "Oh, I should warn you that the soap's a little drugged."

Jesse groaned. "Good to know." He tried not to look at Zach or anyone else as he took off his uniform and stood under one of the showers. There were bottles in various bright colors -- probably the soap. He would've loved to properly wash off the day's sweat, but he'd have to do with washing in just water. At least the shower was hot, with good pressure, and as he stood under the spray, he couldn't help but relax.

At least, he could relax until he looked over and saw Zach lathering up with some neon green chemical.

"What the hell, Zach? You just told me the soap was drugged."

Zach shrugged. "We're going to go to bed after this. It doesn't really matter. What's your plan, never use soap the rest of your life?"

Jesse wanted to retort that he wasn't going to be here the rest of his life, but the words stuck in his throat. "Whatever. I guess you're right. It doesn't matter."

The provided towels were enormous and soft, and Zach looked considerably more relaxed as they toweled off -- which made sense considering he'd just voluntarily doused himself in drugged alien goop. Jesse tried to push down the uneasy sense of betrayal, to see Zach treat it so casually after he'd survived all those nightmarish drug withdrawals. All that work was gone in less than a day, and Zach didn't even seem to care.

The uniforms in the cubbies were freshly washed and warm, and Jesse was pretty sure that his wasn't the same one he had been wearing earlier.

"Last stop, home -- I mean, we're going to our Superior's home to sleep," said Zach.

Jesse wasn't sure why Zach thought that correction made it better. He'd certainly noticed Zach becoming more and more comfortable with situation as the day wore on, and now he was leading Jesse through the corridors with an easy gait. Like they weren't prisoners. Like he really did think of this place as home.

Either they'd reactivated all of his old conditioning with terrifying speed, or it had never really left Zach, and neither option was comforting.

"Our Superior lives in a restricted area of the ship. We'll get a fast transport there."

"Do you have to call him 'our Superior'?"

Zach looked startled, as if he hadn't realized he was doing that. "…It's shorter than 'the alien who kept me as a pet.'"

"I guess it is."

The transport station was a bustling area full of aliens, humans, and cargo. Here was a small train filling up with people, there was a platform the size of a semi-truck being loaded with containers, over there was a little round capsule with a single alien in it zipping away.

An alien stopped them before they could approach the platform. "Location?"

Zach rattled off some designation. The alien consulted a device and waved him through. "Wait on platform G for transport 78."

Jesse glanced around half-heartedly. With all of the commotion, there was probably a way for him to escape if he were clever and fast enough. But he was feeling neither clever nor fast. Despite avoiding the drugged soap, he'd felt increasingly slow since the meal in the cafeteria, and the prospect of escape was less appealing. He'd probably been drugged after all, or else it was the collar influencing him.

A little car with just enough room for the two of them approached the platform, and at a loss for what else to do, Jesse followed Zach into it. It pulled away and immediately plunged into a tunnel that was dark except for a strip of dim light along the top. Even though the ride was smooth, Jesse couldn't help the feeling that he was on a roller coaster.

That wasn't the only reason his stomach was churning. It was sinking in that they were headed to the alien who had decided to keep them both as pets, the one who would easily dull their minds and blunt their desire for freedom. They'd be drugged and conditioned until their minds gave in, and Zach would be reduced to the state he was in when he'd been rescued, fighting the medics and calling out for the enemy. And this time, Jesse would be right there with him.

"It'll be nice to get a good night's sleep," said Zach, apparently not sharing Jesse's fears.

"I can't say I'm so keen to sleep among the enemy."

"It's not like we have a choice." Zach wasn't wrong, but his words felt hollow when he'd been so clearly content with going "home." "Our… the aliens' place isn't so bad. There's a big window on the ceiling where you can watch the sky."

"Aren't you worried, Zach? Worried that if we go there, we're never going to get out again?"

The pause before Zach's answer spoke volumes. "Maybe I didn't expect to get out in the first place."

Jesse didn't know what to say after that. The tunnels where they traveled were warm and dark, and despite all of his fear, Jesse felt his eyelids droop with sleep. He was so tired so suddenly, and maybe it was because he'd had such a long day filled with stress and terror. It was hard to believe that just this morning he'd been at the resistance base, preparing for his mission to scavenge food from a mall. As Jesse fought to keep himself awake, Zach let out a huge yawn, and Jesse couldn't keep from imitating it.

"You're tired, too?" said Jesse.

"Collar's kicking in. We're supposed to go to sleep soon, so it signals your brain to produce more melatonin, stuff like that. At least that's how it was explained to me."

"Great." It was great to know that the aliens could just knock him the fuck out whenever they pleased. He wasn't especially surprised -- he half expected the thing could shock him if he stepped out of line. Even that thought couldn't stop his eyes from wanting to shut.

The car came to a stop at a different platform, one which had far more aliens than humans. Before they could even get out, an alien rushed over to them and plucked them up.

"It's an escort," said Zach. "Our Superior is the captain, so he lives near the ship's bridge, which is highly restricted. Humans like us aren't allowed to go around freely without an escort."

"So we're prisoners."

"Well, we were captured."

"We were captured," Jesse echoed, still far too sleepy given the situation he was in. If only he could fight that collar, stop it from worming its way into his brain.

After winding their way down several identical-looking corridors, Zach and Jesse were deposited in front of a large round door. Their escort slid back, but stayed there to watch as Zach pressed his hand to a panel and the door slid open.

With only brief hesitation, Jesse followed Zach into a cabin about the size of a large studio apartment. The walls were all lined with shelves and the shelves were all covered with unidentifiable, colorful objects, a collection of some kind. Netting hung from the ceiling in several places -- the aliens apparently liked to use netting as a sort of hammock, wrapping their tentacles around the ropes. In one corner of the room was a pod similar to the one he'd been forced into for collaring. It was noticeably larger, and there was a rack with a few bins next to it. An alien -- their new owner, presumably, although Jesse couldn't hope to tell any of them apart -- was sitting in a net, screens hovering in front of its face, looking as if it were doing work. Everything was bathed in the orange glow of a setting sun, coming from the big round skylight.

But the thing that caught Jesse's attention most of all was the smile and look of sheer relief on Zach's face.

He had truly missed this. He was happy to be back.

And that meant Jesse was completely doomed.

You are home. The alien picked up Zach in its tentacles and pulled him close, Zach offering no resistance.

"Hey --" said Jesse, wondering if he should do something. He was far too slow to dodge as another tentacle reached out and grabbed him by the waist, more tentacles supporting his weight as he was drawn closer to the alien and Zach.

You have done well to guide your companion.

"Thank you," said Zach.

Now it is time for both of you to sleep. The alien ruffled a tentacle through Jesse's hair with what seemed to be affection. Jesse wanted to flinch away, but drowsiness was stealing over him again. Next to him, Zach was leaning into it, allowing himself to be pet like a prized cat.

There is a larger sleep pod now to accommodate two pets.

Jesse looked over at the pod in the corner and realized that he was meant to sleep there next to Zach. He glanced over at Zach, far too comfortable in the alien's arms, and saw no particular reaction. He'd probably been expecting this. The aliens really didn't have a notion of privacy for humans.

The alien set them both down on their feet and pushed them gently towards the pod. Zach walked over without hesitation, looking in one of the bins next to it. "All of my things are still here."

Your return was inevitable.

Jesse shuddered. Zach's old owner had just been waiting for him. Waiting for the human resistance to further falter, waiting for Zach to be once again captured. He had all of the time and advantages on his side.

Zach climbed into the pod, an expression of sheer contentment washing over him as he flopped backwards onto the cushions. It was if all the cares and worries of being their leader were wiped away and he could finally relax.

That was it, wasn't it? That was why Zach's return here had been inevitable. The fate of the human race in the face of impossible odds was far too much for one man. They'd thrust him into the role, trusting him, asking him to make the hardest decisions, plastering his face on posters and propaganda, and he'd gone along with it all, because how could he possibly refuse to try and save humanity? Zach cared too much, and he hurt too much, and Jesse hadn't really understood until Zach was gone and he was forced to try to fill his shoes. Even then, all he did was wonder what Zach would have done.

"C'mon, Jesse," said Zach. "We need our sleep. It's comfortable."

He didn't want to go in the pod. Some part of him felt that if he went into the pod and experienced the relaxation Zach was experiencing, he'd never come out as himself again, the point of no return. They'd both be mindless, adoring pets of an alien ship captain, lounging around eating replicated food while the last of humanity fell.

One of the alien's eyes bloomed before him, and he didn't look away in time. His mind gave in too eagerly, ready to be rid of all of those anxious thoughts.

You will be an obedient little thing.

"I… I will be obedient…"

It's time to sleep. Rest in the sleep pod next to your companion.

His shoulders slumped, his head pitching forward with exhaustion. "It's time to sleep…"

That is correct. You are docile. You will obey.

"I am docile. I will obey."

The hypnotic eye left his line of sight, leaving Jesse swaying in its trance, sleepwalking towards the pod. Zach's eyes were closed and his breathing even, already asleep in minutes. Jesse climbed in beside him and sank into the cushioning. It was so satisfying, like resting on a cloud.

Go to sleep, little one. The cover sealed over the sleep pod, and they were plunged into darkness for a minute before soft, pulsating lights filled the small chamber. They were mesmerizing to look at as they swirled and twinkled, and Jesse found his eyelids lowering, impossible to stay awake. A sound like soft rains was playing, and he could hear undertones of alien language underneath it.

He wanted to sleep. He wanted to obey.

They were brainwashing him in his sleep.

He just barely managed to muster up some alarm, lifting his heavy arm to nudge Zach. "Zach. Zach, wake up."

"…What…?"

"They're using the sleep pods to condition us. Don't you hear it?"

"Mmm, yeah, our Superior picks the sleep program for us each night. Don't worry about it."

"Don't… worry…" Jesse wanted to do something, to fight against the influence, but not as badly as he wanted to sleep. He was so warm and drowsy and all he wanted to do was close his tired eyes.

He felt himself start to drift, unable to resist, and then he was asleep.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading my whumpy daydreams! I hope you enjoyed reading about Jesse's last day of freedom.

[blue-eli]

Ink October day 11: Firebreak

A strip of land that has been cleared, plowed, or planted with fire-resistant vegetation to prevent a fire from spreading.

[sweetchildofrocknroll]

[wild-magic-oops]

Gale treating the Slayer trying to eat a dead enemy after a fight like a cat who just dragged home some filthy rat off the street like "Drop that! Do NOT eat it! I said dropt it, RIGHT NOW!" and it actually works

[julijbee]

i was down until he started sending people on the street to ask me why id left him on read.

[onefortherose]

* Kris...Let's go back there tomorrow, alright?

@pscentral event 30: friendship ↳ Kris and Susie: Deltarune Chapters 1 & 2

insp

[orangerosebush]

At once, Artemis has this all-consuming need for control and rejects being treated as a child, yet nonetheless, there's a longing for the protection (care?) of childhood that he sees as beyond his grasp (“It’s too late for me [..] am too old for tussles with Father" in TTP). During the months of recovery, post-resurrection, I would imagine Artemis feeling almost uncomfortable with the sustained gentleness of the life he’s been thrust back into.

[chubote]

Me: *talking about how my doctor anxiety always makes me wanna hold myself back on gorging and gaining for like a month before an appointment*

Feeder Friend: “Just go whole hog and shock the doctor instead!!”

Huff…