#Roblox doors grumble

[ask-guiding-light]

Ask Guiding Light

(Note, if you see this small orange text it means it’s me, Rose, the creator of this blog talking.)

(character introductions)

Hello, I’m Gemini, or the guiding light. This will be an ask blog for me, my brother and some entities. But mainly for me. I go by any pronouns.

hi I’m uh, Cosmo.. or Curious Light, I guess… I’m Geminis brother.. I dunno my pronouns.. call me what you want…

hey, I’m Seek. They/them.

hello, I’m Figure, the blind one, remember? I go by he/it pronouns.

PSST! HIII! I’m Screech! I go by he/she/they/it pronouns!

Hehe! I’m Giggle, she/they/he pronouns!

I’m Grumble. She/they/he pronouns as well.

I’M RUSH! HE/IT PRONOUNS!

AMBUSH HERE! HE/THEY!

hey I’m Jack! He/him pronouns!

Halt! I’m a they/them.

hello. I’m glitch. They/it.

Crawl. He/they/it.

Hello all idiotic people! I’m misleading light!

(account created by @anogtsamsfan)

(Hey there! This is a note from the creator of this account. This is only a roleplay blog, run by one person, so I might not respond to EVERYTHING right away and I don’t have time to include ALL the characters in doors. Also, the creator of this is a minor, so please keep everything appropriate.)

[calpalsworld]

Long awaited Doors entities as cute girls part THREE! The Floor 2 release made me get some wild ideas!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

More deep lore headcanons under the cut!

(Sketchy/cartoony) Content warning for decaying body with bugs, and drowning!

In life, before the Hotel became the nightmare it is today, Seek and Grumble were co-workers. They both upkept the Hotel in their own ways. They cared a lot for each other, despite clashing personalities. Seek was an awkward loner, while Grumble was very cheerful and respected. Seek died in a maintenance accident in the Sewers. Trying to find what happened to Seek, Grumble became lost in the Mines until her starving body spawned new life. In their current forms, they barely remember what once was.

edit: I call Seek's substance "Sludge" because this is what the Tower Heroes crossover calls it.

[thisisntapainting]

incomprehensible post for today

[lethalbreadkills]

hey guys. remember doors. god. me too. fuck 150 ey? anyways nothing will ever make me stop loving these two so muchgod i love them. my faves.

[doorrobloxstuff]

quick headcanon:

The giggles like to cuddle pile. Also they're born with like, peach fuzz that they shed over time, but a newborn giggle is really soft and fluffy :)

(Also grumbles like to cuddle pile, but don't often because it takes a lot of effort to find a nice space bc of their size)

That’s actually really sweet. I’ll take that headcanon and give them the consistency of peeps. Maybe even Screech was the tiniest bit soft.

The offspring of entities like Rush and Ambush are downy and fluffy like little ducklings when they’re born.

Grumbles has over 100+ young children, and four elder ones who help with mining.

[morxynerd]

grumble design bc im back in my doors phase

[hypnos-lullaby-real]

Giggle

Screech

Grumble.

I think grumble is the mom, giggle and screech are the children.

And gloombat (IT LOOKS UGLY AF ON WIKI NOT JOKING-) is the pet💀

[lluvioscatniptea]

Imma make a young screech au (I will whether you like it or not)

It’ll be yet another ask blog most likely but I’ll let you pick that part lol

Every day I’ll release something attached to this until the results are in!! (There’ll be comics either way, it’s just whether I should split up the blogs or nah)

FIRST SCRAP OF KNOWLEDGE: their names will be Bone and Fang, as a reference to my old doors OCs :3

[shouta-edits]

"hiii! Can I get a quick moodboard for Seek x Queen Grumble(roblox DOORS) with maybe a black and white color scheme, some themes of slime, teeth, eyes, flashlights, spotlights, and a toxic marriage? :3 <3 ur stuff sm btw." - @n3on1nf3cti0n requested

[kai-sila]

Liking or reblogging would be helpful, but not required :)

[chr0macide]

Break In: The Novelette (Fanfic)

Part 2 is out

BOOM FIRST TUMBLR POST. I am currently normal about the Roblox Break In series so I decided to try and recreate it as a short story. This is my first time writing anything seriously for fun so I'm sure the pacing is all kinds of fucked up but I did enjoy making it lol. I tried to follow the game's storyline as closely as possible but I also took a few creative liberties and tried to give the characters more personality, not sure how well it worked though lol. This is just the first Break In but I might also do this to Break In 2 as well, probably won't happen in the immediate future though. This thing is about 9,500 words. If you have any feedback/notice errors please do comment :)

Chapter I – Silent House

An old coupe trundled down the road of a quaint suburban neighborhood. Four kids were crammed uncomfortably inside it. One of them reached into his bag of chips, elbowing his younger sister next to him as he did so.

“Ugh. Watch it, Hadrian,” she grumbled.

“You watch it,” Hadrian replied as he shoved the chips into his mouth. The girl reached over to steal one out of the bag. Hadrian slapped her hand away.

“You jerk!” she shrieked, swinging her teddy bear into Hadrian’s face. Hadrian grabbed a handful of his sister’s dark hair and pulled. The two older kids in the car groaned as their younger siblings began bickering and jostling everyone else around.

“Hadrian. Stephanie. Cut it out,” warned the older sister. The younger kids quieted down, but only slightly. “I’m serious! Prince, tell them to stop,” she said to the driver.

The car ground to a halt. “Monica, it’s fine. We’re here,” said the older brother. He removed the key from the ignition. The engine made a worrisome rattling sound as it shut off. He grabbed the handle of the car door next to him and jiggled it. The door was stuck. “Damn this old shitbox,” he muttered as he forced it open.

The four kids squeezed out and breathed in the fresh air. “Finally,” said Stephanie. Prince walked around the car and popped the trunk open, removing the family’s only suitcase.

They’d parked in front of a modest two-story house. It was old and the paint was starting to peel, but at least it looked cozy on the inside.

The front door of the neighboring house creaked open. Out stepped an older man with sunglasses. Uncle Pete. After Prince and Monica had managed to get custody of their siblings, they all knew they had to get away from their parents’ house.

Pete was wealthy. He owned more than a few properties. He’d agreed to let them stay here for free. They weren’t sure why he owned two houses right next to each other. Old people were weird sometimes, but they weren’t complaining.

Prince waved at Uncle Pete. “Evening, Pete!” he called out. Pete just smiled and waved back.

“He’s, uh, usually nonverbal,” Monica explained to her younger siblings. “Anyway. Let’s get inside,” she suggested.

Prince stuck his hand under the welcome mat and fished out a keychain. He tried to jam several different keys into the lock before the door opened. Everyone stepped inside.

“It’s musty,” Stephanie complained. Hadrian made a beeline for the couch in the living room as he shoved another handful of chips into his face. He collapsed onto it and proceeded to ignore everyone.

“It’s not that bad,” Monica claimed. Truthfully, there was a slight odor in the house, but that was probably just because no one had aired the place out for a while. “Come on, let’s open these,” she said to Stephanie as she unlatched one of the windows.

Prince inspected the kitchen. They hadn’t had a chance to go grocery shopping yet, so the cupboards were barren. He took out his phone. “Pizza, anyone?” he called out to the others. They yelled their approval from the other rooms.

“Fine!”

“Sure!”

Prince punched a string of digits into the number pad and put the phone to his ear. “Is this Builder Brothers Pizza? OK, we’ll have a large pineapple—”

“NO!” bellowed Hadrian from the living room.

Prince rolled his eyes. “Fine. A large pepperoni as well,” he added.

Monica called out to him from the other room. “Prince! Get over here!” she said. Prince finished up the call and followed her voice until he was standing before a door with a large padlock affixed to it. Monica and Stephanie turned to him.

“This door looks cool. Open it,” Stephanie demanded.

Prince squinted at the padlock. “I don’t know… Pete probably locked it for a reason.”

“What, are you scared?” the girl joked. “You can lock it again if there’s a monster inside.”

The eldest brother pursed his lips. He wasn’t worried about monsters, but he’d heard rumors of growing criminal activity around this neighborhood. Although…

Prince rifled through the pockets of his cargo shorts until he located the keychain. He found the right key and inserted it into the padlock. It clicked open and fell to the ground with a dull thunk. Prince gently opened the door.

There were concrete steps leading down into a basement. They couldn’t see anything through the darkness, but the cold, stagnant air rushed out over them.

“That’s ominous,” Monica remarked.

Stephanie grinned in excitement and took a step inside, but Prince put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “No, Steph. It’s too dark to see anything in there. You’ll get hurt,” Prince told her. Steph stuck out her lower lip and pouted, but she didn’t try to run inside again. Prince shut the door.

The doorbell rang. The pizza was here. At the same time, Hadrian yelled at everyone from the living room again. “Guys! There’s breaking news on the TV!”

“Coming,” Prince yelled back. “You guys go ahead. I’m gonna get the food,” he told the girls.

Prince opened the front door. It was almost dark outside, and starting to rain, too.

“Sup,” said the delivery guy. Prince took a small step backwards. The guy was pretty big. “Two large pizzas?”

“Yeah,” Prince confirmed. He took the pizza boxes and set them aside before he rummaged through his cargo shorts again for his wallet. He opened it. The family had been low on cash ever since they left their parents’ place. He handed a $20 note to the delivery guy, but he continued to look at Prince expectantly. “Uh… no tip this time. Sorry. That’s all I got right now,” Prince admitted, averting his eyes.

The delivery guy threw up his arms in disbelief. “Dude, are you for real?” he questioned.

“Sorry,” Prince apologized again.

The pizza guy shoved the bill into his pocket. He turned around and trudged over to his motorcycle. “This is my livelihood, man,” he muttered. Prince fidgeted with his wallet guiltily as the guy sped off.

Nonetheless, Prince picked up the pizza boxes and brought them into the living room. Right as he set them down on the coffee table, there was a clap of thunder. The lights in the house blinked out abruptly. The TV flickered off.

Monica glanced outside. The streetlights were also off. There was a power outage.

Everyone looked out the window and saw Uncle Pete’s silhouette leave his house through the back door. He ran a cable to a box outside. He ran another one from the box to their own house. The box hummed to life.

“Oh, it’s a generator,” Monica figured. The lights didn’t turn on, but the TV did. Pete noticed everyone staring at him through the window. He waved at them again before running back into his home.

They turned to the TV and started eating their pizza as the news reporter began speaking. The screen showed a gang of mobsters wearing fine suits and tuxedos, their faces obscured by comedy masks. They were dumping a barrel of some unknown liquid into a storm drain. The picture appeared to have been taken through somebody’s broken windowpane.

The Purge has Begun, Villains on the Loose, read the headline. “This is not a drill. Agents of the mafia are roaming the streets,” said the news anchor. The image on the screen shifted. A short video played of a second group of mobsters smashing someone’s car window with his crowbar. They dragged a man out. One of them raised a gun to the civilian’s head, but the video was cut off before anything else happened.

“Goddamn,” muttered Prince.

“Do not engage these fugitives under any circumstances. There have been 19 confirmed deaths and many more confirmed injuries so far. Keep doors locked and windows closed at all times,” the news anchor continued.

Another image appeared on the screen. “Their leader is Larry Clockturn,” said the news anchor.

Monica stifled a laugh at the mob boss’s appearance. A grey beard hid the lower half of his face. He was old, and he definitely dressed like it. Bowler hats were not in fashion. There was a domino mask over his eyes. He wore a violet waistcoat with a rose affixed to the lapel over his black undershirt. A peculiar golden crowbar was in his hand.

The image switched to a mugshot of Larry. Monica stopped laughing. “Wait, that’s not a person,” she said. Now that they were looking at him up close, she realized that his skin was unnaturally shiny. His golden eyes glowed faintly in the dark and his face seemed stiff and lifeless.

“Is he a robot, or something?” asked Stephanie.

“I don’t know… he looks more like an automaton,” Monica replied.

Stephanie looked at her funny. “Is there a difference?”

“Well, yeah,” said Monica. “At least, I think so. Robots use electricity, but automatons have engines or something-”

Hadrian shushed her as the news anchor continued talking. “If you see this entity, run away and hide. Larry Clockturn is considered by authorities to be an extremely dangerous serial murderer. Do not engage him under any circumstances. Special forces have been dispatched to regulate the situation. I repeat, this is not a drill.”

There was static as the program ended. A standby screen appeared on the TV. Nobody spoke at first.

“That shit is wild,” said Hadrian, deadpan. Stephanie peered through the window nervously. “I told you we should have gone to Bloxburg!” she hissed to Prince.

“And I told you, Steph, we don’t have that kind of money.”

“Guys. Be quiet.” Monica was the one staring out the window now, but the streetlights were still off. If there were any mobsters creeping around outside, she couldn’t tell. “Can’t see shit. Maybe they don’t know we’re here, either… let’s just go upstairs.”

Prince grabbed the suitcase he’d left by the front door. He partially unzipped it and felt around inside until he found the flashlight, then switched it on and held it in front of him as he lugged the bag up the stairs. The others followed him from behind until he came to the bedroom. He dropped the bag just inside.

“Phew.” Prince was too tired to unpack, and now probably wasn’t the best time, anyway. He cautiously made his way to the window at the back of the room. It might have been his imagination, but he could almost see moonlight glinting on mobsters’ white purge masks. He drew the curtains. “Let’s just hit the sack,” he said to the other kids.

They were in for a rude awakening.

Chapter II – Broke In

The kids awoke to the sound of shattering glass. Stephanie sat bolt upright and screamed. She fell out of her bed and rolled underneath it, still clutching her teddy.

A mobster had smashed the only window in the room with his crowbar and was now climbing inside. The other three kids jumped up and scrambled away from him. He planted his shiny black shoes on the floor, brushed some glass shards off his tuxedo, and brandished his crowbar at the kids, laughing.

“G’day, cunts,” he greeted them, tipping his fedora at them wryly. He started towards them.

It was only one guy. The kids whirled around, searching for something to defend themselves with. There was nothing except for Prince’s baseball bat… but it was still in the suitcase. Monica ran to the front of the room and shoved the bag flat onto the floor. She started to unzip it.

Meanwhile, the mobster raised his crowbar to bash Prince’s brains in, but Hadrian had skirted around until he was behind the guy. He kicked the back of his leg. The thug folded, eliciting a giggle from the boy, but it was promptly cut short as the mobster shot to his feet and grabbed him around the throat. “Little shit.” He lifted his crowbar again as he throttled Hadrian with one hand.

Monica had the suitcase open. She dug through it, throwing the clothes aside until she found Prince’s chrome baseball bat. She tossed it to him.

Prince caught the bat and turned to the mobster again. “Get away from Hadrian, you asshole!” he yelled as he swung as hard as he could.

There was a sharp ding as the bat connected head-on with the side of the mafioso’s skull. His head was jerked to the side by the impact. He released Hadrian and crumpled to the ground, barely conscious.

Monica rushed towards Hadrian and hugged him. “Are you OK?” she asked, fussing over her younger brother.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Hadrian replied as he pushed her away, but his voice was wavering a little. He rubbed his neck. The mobster’s grip had left a red mark around it.

Stephanie finally crawled out from under her bed. “What do we do now?” she whispered, staring wide-eyed at the insensible mafioso.

Prince walked over to him cautiously. “We should… uh…”

He didn’t want to kill a guy in front of two young kids. Certainly not his own siblings. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill anyone at all. His eyes fell upon the broken window.

“We should… just push him back out through the window. Yeah. It’s not that far to the ground. He’ll be fine,” finished Prince hesitantly. He grabbed the mobster’s feet. Monica grabbed him under the arms. They hauled his nearly unconscious body to the window.

They draped the mobster over the windowsill. Prince gave him a little push. He slid out rather gently and grunted in pain as he hit the ground outside. Now he was really knocked out.

Prince and Monica took a peek over the sill. He was already surrounded by a few of his fellow mafiosos. They glanced up at the teenagers, faces unreadable through their masks. They started to drag their unconscious accomplice into the shadows, where Prince spied his own car. The hood was open. The engine was gone. Looked like they wouldn’t be leaving this place anytime soon.

“Shit. We need to do something before they come back,” whispered Prince, pulling away from the window.

Monica squinted as she looked around the bedroom. She opened the door to the walk-in closet. “There’re some wood planks in here. Maybe we can board up the window…?” she suggested.

“We can board up all the windows,” Prince told her… “except for this one,” he added, nodding at the broken pane. “We’ll use that to see outside.” He retrieved some tools from the suitcase. Monica had told him to leave them behind when they’d moved out of their parents’ house—they were heavy—but now she was glad that he’d packed them anyway.

Prince dragged the planks out of the closet and left them in a pile. He picked up a hammer and went to nail one of the boards over a window at the end of the hall. He swore as he hit his thumb. “Fuck.” The sun was peeking over the horizon, but it was still barely light enough to see.

Monica and Hadrian started boarding up the other windows. They spent all day securing the place, and it was dark again before they knew it. They were all making a lot of noise, but there was nothing they could do about that.

Unfortunately for them, the sound attracted some unwanted attention.

“This was a shit idea.” Hadrian glanced through the gaps in the boarded window. There were more than a few eyes glinting in the darkness outside, glaring at them. “Now they know we’re in here,” he told Prince.

“They already knew we were in here, dumbass. A purger broke through the window and tried to kill us, remember?”

“Oh… yeah. I guess you’re right.”

With all the windows boarded up, there was nothing to do except meander around the house. Hadrian went to the living room and thought about turning the TV on, but he wasn’t in the mood.

He looked at the leftover pizza on the coffee table. He was hungry, but it had been sitting out all night. The power was still gone. The refrigerator was useless.

Hadrian sighed. No eating today.

As he reentered the foyer, Hadrian heard a scratching noise coming from the other side of the basement door. He panicked initially, but when he listened closer… was that mewling?

Hadrian stepped closer. He put a hand on the doorknob and opened the basement door, but only a little. An orange tabby cat slunk through the gap.

“Have you been in there the whole time?” Hadrian questioned, staring at the cat in disbelief. He reached down to pet it, but the cat batted his hand away and hissed. It ran past him and darted through the gap between Prince’s legs—he’d been watching from behind.

The cat jumped up onto a cabinet in the foyer and stared at Hadrian disdainfully. “Tch. Cats are lame anyway,” he muttered as he shut the basement door again. “Wait… Prince, do you hear that?”

There was a strange noise outside. Tires screeched along asphalt to a standstill. There was a loud electrical bang as a pair of headlamps were abruptly switched on outside, flooding the living room with a bright light.

A van had pulled in front of the house, facing them and shining its headlights into the room. Six mobsters got out and stared at the house silently. One of them made eye contact with Prince as he peered through the boarded window. The teenager backed away. He beckoned Hadrian to follow him upstairs.

“Prince? What’s happening?” Monica asked when she saw him.

“More gangsters. Six.” Prince paused as he looked outside again. “They’re just standing there…”

Prince’s brow furrowed in thought. It felt like ages before he spoke again. “I’m staying awake tonight. The rest of you sleep,” he told everyone as he picked up his bat and paced around the room. “I’ll wake you up if something happens.”

“Prince, are you sure? We should sleep in shifts,” offered Monica.

“No. It’s fine,” the eldest refused, waving the suggestion away.

Everyone else got into bed, but Prince walked over to the broken bedroom window again. The mobsters were still staring at the house intently. He stared back, determined. It was going to be another long night.

Chapter III – Tick Tock

It was dead silent. Light from the mobster van’s headlamps was still streaming into the house, but they hadn’t tried to get inside. Prince leaned against the wall, nodding off with his baseball bat in hand. He’d been awake for hours. His eyes began to close.

The sound of glass breaking pierced the night once again. Prince snapped to attention. He heard wood splinter and nails clink against the floor as the mafiosos pried the boards off a window downstairs. He opened his mouth, about to shout for the other kids to wake up, but he instead decided to shake them awake instead. They’d lose the element of surprise if the mobsters figured out they weren’t sleeping.

“Monica, wake up,” Prince hissed, shaking Monica in her bed. Her eyes snapped open.

“What? Did they break in?” Monica asked. She rolled out of bed hurriedly and grabbed Stephanie, dragging her off her bed as well. “Steph, we have to get up. There’re more bad guys.”

“They’re downstairs. Maybe we can get the jump on them,” Prince whispered as he shook Hadrian awake as well. He hesitated before pointing to the hammers they’d discarded after fortifying the house. “Grab one,” he said to Monica and Hadrian. He didn’t want to kill anyone… but these mobsters weren’t leaving them with many options.

Prince grimaced as Monica picked up a hammer. “Actually… Monica, you take my bat. I’ll use a hammer,” he decided.

“Huh? Why?” Monica wondered.

Prince shrugged. “I don’t want you to have to kill anyone,” he admitted.

Monica shot him a look. “I’ll be fine, Prince. Worry about yourself.”

There were footsteps below. The mob was inside. Prince motioned for everyone to follow him.

The mafiosos ascended the stairs. They slunk down the hall. The one at the front reached out to push the door open, hoping to attack a few feckless civilians in their sleep… but he saw nobody.

The door behind them opened instead. Monica buried her hammer in the nearest mobster’s cranium, then wrenched it out. Blood spattered against the wall next to his head, and then he fell onto the carpet with a soft thump, dead. The other mafiosos whipped around at the noise.

Five left.

Monica was clutching the hammer to her chest now, wide-eyed and shaking a little bit at what she had just done, so Hadrian pushed his way past her before the mobsters figured out what was happening. He swung his own hammer at the closest one. The mafioso had no time to raise his crowbar as Hadrian struck him in the forehead, cracking his purge mask. He slumped to the ground as well, knocked out.

Four.

Prince jumped out of the wardrobe and rushed out of the bedroom while the mobsters were facing away from it. One of them bashed his crowbar into Hadrian’s chest, who stumbled backwards, wheezing. Prince managed to strike the side of the aggressor’s head. It bounced off the wall next to him. He heard something break. Maybe the drywall. Maybe his skull.

Three.

Another mobster rushed Prince. He swiftly retreated into the bedroom until he was standing at the broken window. The mobster followed. As he lunged with his crowbar, Prince sidestepped and took the chance to grab the mafioso, hurling him through the window. He landed on the concrete with a sickening crunch and didn’t get up.

Two.

Monica came to her senses. It was just in time, too, because Hadrian was about to be ganged up on by the remaining invaders. Prince came out of the bedroom. “You go left. I go right,” he whispered to Monica. She nodded.

One of the mafiosos lashed out at Hadrian with his crowbar. He raised his weapon to defend himself, but the hammer was too small to block anything. Hadrian yelped as his forearm took the hit. He dropped his weapon as Monica brained the offending mobster.

One.

Prince raised his bat high above his head at the same time and brought it down on top of the other mafioso’s head.

Zero.

The kids stood in silence for a while, breathing heavily. They didn’t hear anyone else in the house. After a minute, Monica spoke.

“Steph, you can come out now,” she said. Stephanie emerged from the guest bedroom wordlessly and clung to her sister’s leg. Monica took Hadrian’s wounded forearm and prodded at the injury. He winced.

“I don’t feel a break. Maybe it’s just cracked. I left my first aid kit in the car,” Monica admitted nervously. She knew it wasn’t safe to go outside right now.

Prince pondered. “We can check the basement first. Maybe Pete left something useful in there,” he advised. He retrieved the flashlight from the bedside table and switched it on as the kids moved down to the first floor. They walked past the window that the mobsters had entered through. Wooden planks and shards of glass lay on the carpet. It crunched under their shoes as they stepped over it.

“Didn’t you leave this closed?” Prince asked Hadrian as he came to the basement, shining his light inside. The door was ajar. He quickly realized what a stupid idea it was to point the flashlight into it. There was a chance someone was lurking there. He turned it off.

Hadrian started backing away. “Yeah, I did… I think?” he whispered.

There were footsteps again. Loud ones.

“Shit,” said Prince.

Hadrian hesitated. “Wait, I think it’s just one guy. We could take him.” Indeed, only one pair of feet could be heard, and yet, the floor shook as the basement dweller began to climb the stairs.

“No! That guy sounds huge! Hide!” Prince whispered harshly, pulling Hadrian—who winced again as his forearm was jostled—along with him. They and the girls ran away from the basement door as silently as they could.

Prince put his hand on the sill of the broken window, about to jump outside, but he saw too many masked men in the shadows. He doubled back and whirled around, searching for somewhere to hide. There was only the storage cabinet in the kitchen. All four of them squeezed in. It was a tight fit. They almost couldn’t breathe, but they all froze as the trespasser reached the top of the basement stairs. Prince peered through the thin gap between the cabinet doors. The guy was so tall that he needed to duck underneath the doorframe. There was a faint ticking noise emanating from him.

The ground quaked with every step Larry Clockturn took. His golden LED eyes lit up in the dark. The glow glinted off of the violet mask on his eyes. He was far more daunting in person. As he walked near the shattered window, the moonlight illuminated his tarnished metal face and the steel wires that served as his beard.

He passed the open kitchen door. Monica saw a large wind-up key affixed to his back. I told you he was an automaton, she wanted to whisper, but this wasn’t a good time.

The mob boss walked past the kitchen and out of sight, but the kids heard his footsteps move to the stairwell. The first stair, decayed with age, splintered and caved under his weight. Larry cursed and swung his crowbar at the wall in anger, annihilating the plasterboard. He tried the second step. It groaned under his mass, but it held this time. He made his way to the second floor.

Prince hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, but now he was almost gasping for air as he pushed the cabinet doors open and darted towards the basement. The other kids ran after him.

He swore internally as he almost tripped on the first step. It was still dark in there. He turned on the flashlight just long enough to make it to the bottom.

It was chilly. The kids huddled together in the darkness.

“H-he knows we’re still in the house,” stammered Monica, voice shaking. “He was here when you shined the flashlight in the first time. He had to have seen it. What are we going to do?”

Prince said nothing. He was out of ideas. All they could do was shut up and hope Larry didn’t think to come back here.

But the mechanical ticking returned. Larry did come back.

The automaton’s silhouette appeared at the top of the stairwell. The light from his eyes, still glowing golden in the dark, faintly illuminated his face.

There was a tinny creak as Larry tilted his head, staring into the basement. It was pitch black inside. Maybe he couldn’t see them, the kids thought.

Larry’s lips parted into a malicious grin. Prince flinched in surprise. He hadn’t realized the mob boss could emote with his metal features… but he didn’t come inside. Instead, he turned from the basement door and walked away, his steel exterior clanking as he moved.

There was a loud crack as Larry forced the front door open instead of leaving through the window he’d broken.

“What an asshole,” Prince grumbled.

Monica touched Prince’s arm. “Why didn’t he come inside?” she wondered.

Prince shrugged. He didn’t know either.

“Maybe he’s playing with us.”

It wasn’t a comforting idea, but they didn’t hear Larry’s footsteps anymore, so…

“Turn the flashlight on. We have to search this place,” Monica told Prince. He did.

The shelves were cluttered with supplies and knickknacks Uncle Pete had left behind. Pete, Prince suddenly remembered. He hoped the guy was alright, but there was nothing he could do for his uncle right now.

A good portion of the items were littered across the floor as well. Larry and his mobsters had trashed the place. Prince swept the flashlight across the ground.

“There.”

He pointed to a discarded first aid kit.

Monica picked it up. “Thought we’d never catch a break.” she took a broken piece of shelf as well and assembled a makeshift splint for Hadrian’s forearm. It wasn’t pretty, but it would hold until they figured out how to get to a hospital.

In the meantime, Prince perched the flashlight on a shelf to rummage through some carboard boxes. “Oh my god. Finally,” he exclaimed as he pulled out a bag of cheese puffs from one of them. The box was full of junk food, but it felt like the kids had struck gold after having nothing to eat for a day and a half. They gorged themselves, but once they were full, they were unsure of what to do next.

Prince looked pensive. “We can’t stay down here,” he eventually said. They had no clue how long the purge was going to last, and they couldn’t subsist on their meager supply of junk food for long.

Monica didn’t say anything at first. Prince was right, but the streets were still teeming with every kind of criminal.

She had an idea.

Chapter IV – Delivery

“This is dumb as hell.”

“Just put it on,” urged Monica.

Prince finished buttoning up the tuxedo. He pulled the purge mask over his face.

They’d swiped the disguise off of a dead purger they’d left upstairs. Monica reached for the second mask that they’d looted, but Prince stopped her.

“Nope. You’re staying here,” he told her.

“You serious? You can’t go out there alone.”

“Yes the fuck I can. Besides, someone needs to stay with those two.” Prince motioned to Stephanie’s tiny form and Hadrian with his arm in a splint.

Monica sighed. “Fine… be careful.”

Prince picked up one of the dead mobsters’ crowbars. Monica took a step back and looked him up and down. “I think it’ll work. Just act casual,” she said.

 After peering outside, Prince grabbed the windowsill and vaulted over it. The mobsters lurking nearby didn’t even glance at him twice.

 The nearest convenience store was just up the road. Prince could see it from here, but as he started walking, his shoe slid on the ice beneath him. He almost fell. The wet asphalt had frozen overnight.

There was a loud guffaw from a group of mafiosos passing him by, but then one of them slipped on the ice as well and fell on his face. The other gangsters laughed even louder. “Man, shut y’all’s asses!” he hollered at them.

Prince had frozen in place for a few seconds, almost thinking he’d blown his cover, but he quickly regained his bearings. He left the gangsters to bicker amongst themselves. They seemed a lot less menacing when they weren’t trying to kill him.

As he continued towards the convenience store, Prince passed by the house of one of his neighbors. Of course, he hadn’t had a chance to meet them yet, but he still wondered if they were doing alright.

There was an earsplitting scream from inside the house, then a gunshot. The distant voice of a mobster reached Prince’s ears. “Aww, come on! I was gonna play with her first!”

Prince scrunched his face up in disgust under his mask. Nevermind. Fuck these guys.

He made it to the convenience store. The place had been nearly bled dry, but there was some fruit left in the produce crates. Prince opened the sack that he’d taken with him. He reached for an apple.

There were two mobsters sitting on the counter nearby. They turned their heads towards Prince. They were masked, but he could feel them giving him an odd look. He faltered, then grabbed the edge of the fruit crate, tipping the entirety of its contents into his sack. The mobsters looked away, losing interest.

Phew. Prince threw the sack over his shoulder and almost ran back to the house.

Monica met him at the basement door. Panic flashed through her mind until she realized it was Prince. “What did you get?” she asked as they returned to the basement.

“Fruit.”

“Lame,” said Stephanie.

Prince took his mask off and shoved an apple into her tiny hands. “No, it isn’t. You need it after eating all that junk food.” He didn’t notice the sound of a motorcycle pulling up to the front of the house.

There was commotion in the kitchen upstairs. Utensils and cookware clattered against the floor tiles.

Prince foisted his crowbar over his shoulder as he turned to the stairs. “I gotta say, I’m getting real tired of this shit,” he muttered to Monica before he returned to the ground floor.

As he reached the top of the staircase, he hesitated. This dude was kinda big, he thought as he scrutinized the person wrecking his kitchen. There was no time for Prince to change his mind, though—the mobster saw him.

“There you are.”

He sounded vaguely familiar, but Prince had no time to muse as the guy charged at him.

Prince responded in kind. He rushed at the mobster and raised his own crowbar to block the blow. There was a sharp clang as their weapons met.

It was almost like a sword duel, though not nearly as graceful. Prince was no trained fighter, but neither was the mafioso, apparently. He accidentally hooked a vase with his crowbar, sending it shattering against the floor. The opponents staggered around the foyer, neither of them gaining the upper hand at first

The mobster couldn’t get a hit in. He grew impatient and lunged forward. He swung too wide. Prince backpedaled away from the strike, and now, for an instant, his foe was wide open.

Prince delivered an uppercut to the mafioso’s face with his crowbar. The force of the strike knocked his mask askew.

The mafioso collapsed to the ground heavily, dazed and confused. “Ugh…”

Alright, Prince had absolutely met this guy before. He reached down and pulled the guy’s mask all the way off.

Prince stared.

“Dude, are you fucking kidding me?”

It was the pizza guy from a couple days ago. He sat up gingerly, rubbing his chin, and spat a glob of blood onto the carpet. “Shouldn’t have fuckin’ stiffed me, you asshole!”

Prince threw his arms up in exasperation, still gripping his crowbar. “I told you I didn’t have any more money! And you come into my house and trash the place over it? What is your problem?”

The delivery guy eyed Prince’s crowbar. He straightened his bowtie as he spoke. “OK, don’t be like that, man. A guy paid me to do it. You’re not the only one hurting for cash,” he said, pointing his finger at the boy. “The big metal dude,” he continued. “I’ve been running with the mafia for a while now, but this morning he shoved a crisp hundred into my hand and told me to come in here. Take you guys out. And, uh, he looked like he was gonna kill my ass if I said no, so… here I am, I guess.”

Prince glared at him for a moment. “Man, just get the hell out,” he said, pointing his crowbar at the open door.

The pizza guy looked outside. “Uh… actually, I think I’m gonna chill in here for a while.”

“Excuse me? No, you are not. You just tried to kill me,” Prince snapped.

The guy held up his hands in surrender. “The big guy is gonna fillet me like a fish when he finds out I didn’t get rid of you guys! I’m not going back out there,” he said. “Besides, he paid me in advance, man. I ain’t gotta do shit no more.”

Prince mulled it over. This guy wouldn’t get out of his house, but Prince definitely didn’t want to kill him, either.

“Whatever. Fine. What should I call you?” he asked.

The pizza guy stood up unsteadily. “Isaiah.”

 “OK, Isaiah, you said you’ve been running with the mob for a while. Any clue how we might get away from here without dying?” Prince asked.

Isaiah deliberated for a moment.

“The sewers. The mafia normally uses it to move around the city, but It’s empty now that they’re on the streets…” He paused again as he formulated a plan. “I overheard a li’l bit of intel. The national guard made it to 5th Street. We head in that direction. Get behind their lines, where it’s safe. Then we can exit the sewer. No sweat.”

Prince didn’t have any better ideas. “Fine. Get in here, man. Leave the crowbar,” he warned Isaiah as the ruffian reached for his fallen weapon. “No funny shit.”

“I wasn’t going to do shit,” he muttered as they descended into the basement.

The other three kids drew back suspiciously as they saw Isaiah. “Prince? Who is that?”

“He’s the pizza delivery guy,” Prince replied. “From the day we moved in, I mean. He’s…”

Prince gave Isaiah the side-eye.

“He’s chill,” he decided. “And he told me how we can get out of here. We’ll walk through the sewers until we meet the national guard.”

The other kids glanced at each other. “Unless you guys would rather stay here…?” Prince added. They all heard a bout of submachine gunfire in the house across the street.

“Nope. Let’s get out of here,” Monica said. “Tomorrow morning?”

Isaiah raised an eyebrow. “Why are we waiting?”

“It’s midnight. We gotta get some sleep,” Prince said.

Isaiah’s eyebrows crept even higher. “You guys have been sleeping at night this whole time? You can’t be doing that shit during the killing purge! How are you people still alive?”

The kids murmured inaudibly. They didn’t really know, either.

Isaiah shook his head incredulously. “Whatever. I don’t know where you got that disguise, Prince, but there had better be more. Your buddies will get jumped in no time if they go out looking like that,” he said.

Prince retrieved some more suits and a couple of crowbars from the dead mobsters upstairs. The second floor was starting to smell really bad. He was glad they were leaving soon.

The disguises were a little ill-fitting on Monica and Hadrian, but Stephanie wasn’t going to be able to wear one at all.

“What are you going to do about her?” Isaiah asked.

Prince scratched his head as he thought. “I saw a manhole cover real close by. We’ll just have her walk in the middle of us ‘til we make it into the sewer.”

“If you say so.”

The group stepped out. Stephanie stood in the middle of the bunch, hopefully obscuring her from the mobsters’ sight.

They had almost made it to the manhole cover when they heard a crash in the distance. A shrill alarm pierced their ears. Someone had smashed one of the convenience store’s windows open and set it off. The group turned to see who was responsible.

They saw a shape with glowing eyes through the glass door of the store as he strode into view. Larry downed a can of cola before crushing it in his hand and throwing it aside. He turned to look at the street.

The automaton looked blasé as he surveyed the darkened neighborhood, but his expression shifted to one of suspicion as his eyes fell on the group. Then he looked furious.

Their disguises hadn’t fooled him. Larry kicked the door open and started towards the group.

“God fucking damn it!” roared Isaiah as he hauled the manhole cover off the ground and thrust it aside.

“Get in!”

Chapter V – Clockturn

Everyone clambered down the ladder and into the sewer.

Stephanie held her nose. “It smells really bad in here.”

Something heavy tumbled into the manhole after them, landing on Prince’s head. “Ow! What the hell?” he exclaimed.

It was the same cat that had come out of the basement earlier, and it started yowling as Prince pried it off his scalp.

“Guys, he’s coming! Fucking run!” Isaiah shouted at the group. He’d broken into a sprint as soon as his feet touched the floor. “And shut that cat up! It’s gonna give our location away.”

Prince set the cat on the ground. Thankfully, it stopped screeching, but it did follow them.

The kids raced after Isaiah. “Do you know where you’re going?” Prince panted.

“Yeah, I’ve been down here before. Just stay behind me,” Isaiah assured him. “Take this right!”

As they rounded the corner, Monica risked a glimpse behind her. The concrete ground fractured beneath Larry as he jumped into the manhole after them.

The corridors twisted and turned as Isaiah led everyone further into the sewers. He barreled through iron gates in their path. Some of the paths had collapsed and been replaced by flimsy timber.

Hadrian stumbled. A board slipped out from under him. He was about to fall into the fetid sewage, but Prince reached to fish him out.

Isaiah got there before him. Hadrian’s shoe had just touched the water when the mafioso forcefully pulled him back onto the walkway.

“Hey, be careful! His arm is hurt!” scolded Monica. Isaiah simply jabbed his finger at Hadrian’s foot.

Hadrian wiggled his toes. The tip of his shoe was gone.

“I forgot to let you guys know. I saw some other mobsters pouring something into the storm drains,” Isaiah explained as he continued to run. “Whatever it was, it was corrosive as hell, ‘cause the drain stared melting. Don’t fall in there,” he finished, pointing at the water channel.

Isaiah veered left into a round clearing in the sewer. He came face to face with another gate, but he almost bashed his head into it as it refused to open. The kids skidded to a stop as he grabbed the bars and rattled the door. “This wasn’t locked before!” he shouted in frustration.

The mobster wedged his crowbar through the edge of the gate and tried to pry it open, but it wouldn’t budge. The kids glanced at each other anxiously. “Maybe Larry doesn’t know where we went,” Monica whispered.

No such luck.

They heard the ticking of his cogs before they saw him.

Larry rounded the corner. He was moving at a leisurely pace, but his footsteps were still fairly thunderous as he strolled across the improvised wooden bridge.

The automaton came to a halt as he reached the other side of the walkway. The kids could only stare at him. He was blocking their only escape.

Larry put a hand on his crowbar, leaning on it like a cane. He ran a hand through his wiry beard. His LED eyes swiveled as he looked the group over.

A lanky delivery boy, down on his luck.

Some high school dropout with a hero complex and his doormat of a sister.

A kid with a broken arm. His youngest sibling, hugging her teddy bear to her chest.

Larry laughed to himself and booted the wooden board behind him. There was a low sizzle as it fell into the waterway and began to disintegrate. The kids were trapped. His gaze shifted back to the group.

“What do you think you’re doing, Isaiah?” said Larry in his metallic peal.

His voice sent a chill up the kids’ spines. It was sonorous and hollow, filling the entire corridor.

Isaiah didn’t reply. He only yanked his crowbar out of the still-locked gate. It was futile. He walked to the front of the group.

If Isaiah wouldn’t talk, Larry would. “It’s not too late for you to follow orders, young man. Get rid of them.”

Isaiah didn’t move.

The crime lord raised an eyebrow. “Interesting decision.” Larry lifted his crowbar with one hand and rested it over his shoulder as he advanced on Isaiah.

“Hold on, boss, I-”

Isaiah cut himself off as Larry swung his crowbar. The mobster managed to duck under the blow so that it connected with the wall instead. The stone bricks cracked under Larry’s strength.

There was no reasoning with this guy.

No one knew how they were going to take Larry down, but he couldn’t go after all of them at once. Everyone scattered across the room, but the littlest was too slow.

Larry grinned as he reached down and snatched Stephanie by her tiny arm.

“No!” cried Prince. He rushed towards the automaton.

The cat was quicker. Prince had almost forgotten it was there, but it leapt onto Larry’s face, scratching and hissing. He cursed and released Stephanie. Prince pulled her away and swept her into his arms as the mob boss reached for the feline instead.

Its claws did nothing except piss Larry off. He ripped the cat off his face and flung it aside as he straightened his tie. It hit the wall before sliding to the floor and going limp, still mewling pitifully.

Stephanie normally would have begun crying by now, but she must have known it was no use this time. She gazed down at the teddy bear in her hands. It was the only toy she’d been able to take with her when the siblings had left their parents. Its voice box didn’t work anymore, but she turned it over and looked at the pull-string attached to it. She looked up at the golden wind-up key on Larry’s back. Still in Prince’s arms, she reached for it.

Stephanie twisted the wind-up key counterclockwise with all her diminutive might while Larry’s back was still turned. A steely bang sounded from inside him, followed closely by the jarring noise of an engine backfiring. The automaton flinched violently. He nearly toppled over, but he caught himself and whirled around, lunging with his crowbar furiously as he did. Prince backpedaled hurriedly, but the very edge of the crowbar just barely caught Stephanie’s cheek, ripping off a layer of skin.

“Bastard!” roared Prince. He set Stephanie down behind him. She ran into her sister’s arms. Monica steered her over to Hadrian before she went to confront their aggressor.

The group had figured out Larry’s weak point, and now he was a lot more wary. Prince, Isaiah, and Monica circled around him, but he’d turn and lunge again whenever one of them took so much as a step towards him. The three comrades glanced at each other. They all knew one of them had to engage the automaton while another tried to reach his key, but none of them particularly wanted to be stomped into red paste.

Before anyone grew audacious enough to rush Larry, the kids heard yet another odd noise. There was a resonant clang as the automaton’s steel plates snapped apart along the seams. A deafening mechanical whirr filled the sewer. All of a sudden, there was a cyclone of buzzsaws where he’d been standing a second ago.

Larry charged at Prince, who had to dive out of the way to avoid being sliced to gory ribbons.

Blood sprayed against the stone brick wall. Prince cried out as he hit the cold floor. He’d been too slow. The blades had caught him anyway. Fortunately, his arm was still attached, but there were several deep lacerations. Larry had sliced him all the way to the bone.

A pool of red bloomed under Prince as he collapsed. Monica rushed over to where she’d dropped her first aid kit. With wounds like that, he was going to bleed to death if she didn’t do something, but she couldn’t get near Prince while Larry was standing between them.

The automaton’s buzzsaws ground to a stop and clicked back into his casing. His plates snapped shut again as he stood above Prince.

Larry had his back to Hadrian now. He was so close. He had to do something. Hadrian ripped the splint off his own arm. He knew he was probably about to make his injury worse, but that was far better than dying here.

As Larry raised his crowbar to finish Prince off, he felt a pair of hands on his wind-up key.

Hadrian turned the key counterclockwise. Larry grunted in pain again as even more of his gears jammed, but he swung his weapon behind himself immediately this time.

Hadrian reeled as the crowbar struck his torso. He gasped for breath as he hit the concrete. Great. Now he had both a cracked forearm and a cracked rib cage. Larry turned away from Prince, heading for Hadrian instead.

Monica bolted to Prince’s side and started tying a torniquet around his bleeding arm. As she tended to him, Isaiah stepped in between Larry and Hadrian.

Larry narrowed his eyes. “Get the fuck outta the way, kid.”

Isaiah didn’t.

Larry scoffed and brought his crowbar down upon Isaiah with one hand. Isaiah gripped his own weapon as hard as he could with both hands and held it up to shield himself.

Their weapons clashed. Isaiah staggered, but he managed to remain on his feet. His crowbar vibrated in his hands with the aftershock of Larry’s blow, but he maintained his grip on it.

Larry raised his eyebrows, mildly surprised. Perhaps Isaiah wasn’t as lanky as he’d thought. He shook his head at the mobster.

“Little shit. I gave you a job when you were about to be homeless, and this is how you repay me?”

Larry attacked again, grasping his crowbar with both hands now. Isaiah did lose his weapon this time. It skittered across the concrete and into the corrosive water.

Monica sprang for Larry’s wind-up key. He swung his crowbar into her face without looking at her. She flew back and hit the ground, unconscious. Prince dragged himself towards her. He was starting to become lightheaded from the blood loss.

Larry swung again. With nothing to guard himself with, Isaiah took the hit squarely in the chest. He crumpled to the floor, winded.

The automaton circled him. He gave the mafioso a kick in the ribs with his steel-toed shoe.

“Come on. Is that all you can take?”

Isaiah choked out a couple of choice words. “Fuck… yourself…”

Larry scowled and opened his mouth to speak, but the cat hauled itself from the stone floor and launched itself at his face again, caterwauling and clawing with renewed fervor.

That was all Prince needed. He scrambled to his feet and leapt at Larry’s key. He grabbed it with his uninjured arm and wrenched it counterclockwise one more time.

Something rattled inside the automaton. His gears shuddered to a halt. There was a hiss as steam escaped from the vents on his face. His glowing golden eyes blinked off.

Larry lurched forwards and hit the ground with a crash, deactivated.

Epilogue

Prince opened his eyes blearily. He instantly shut them again. The lights were unpleasantly bright. He tried to shield his face, but the ensuing jolt of pain jarred him fully awake. Oh, right. He’d taken a buzzsaw to the arm.

He used his other arm to cover his eyes as he opened them. Prince was lying in a hospital bed.

“How’s it going, man?” said a voice from the left.

The boy turned his head. Isaiah was in the next bed.

“Is everyone else alright?” Prince rasped.

“Yeah, looks like it. Hadrian and Monica are right over there,” Isaiah told him, gesturing with his head to his left. “And there’s the li’l one,” he added.

Prince looked at the bed across from him. Stephanie was clambering down. She ran over to Prince and grabbed his hand, bouncing excitedly. “You’re OK!” she exclaimed.

“Hey, Steph. Ow. Don’t do that,” Prince croaked as Stephanie jostled his bandaged arm, but he was smiling. “How did we get here?”

Isaiah let his head fall back onto his pillow, brow furrowed in thought. “Uh. You beat the big dude. Or disabled him, at least. I don’t know. You passed out right after, and then… I think I heard Stephanie crying for a while. Someone above us heard it, too. They lowered a ladder into the sewer. Yeah, there was another manhole above us, apparently, but no ladder attached. Hah,” Isaiah laughed shortly. “They thought we were mafiosos at first, but I guess they figured out we weren’t when they saw Larry on the ground. And then they brought us here.”

The hinges on the hospital door squealed as a nurse walked in. “Oh! Some of you are awake,” she observed. “Don’t disturb your big bro right now, young lady. He’s going to need a lot of rest,” the nurse told Stephanie as she carried her back over to her own hospital bed.

“As for you…” the nurse examined her clipboard. “Prince Aguilar? Emancipated minor…” she read. “I’ve been told that you got into a fight with Larry Clockturn. You’re all lucky to be alive.”

“You ain’t lying,” Isaiah muttered. The nurse shot him a look.

“You should all be fine once we’re done patching you up,” the nurse continued. “But…” She checked her clipboard again. “Monica Aguilar appears to have taken quite the blow to the head. We’re monitoring her, but we aren’t going to be able to assess if there’s any brain damage until she wakes up.”

Prince sat up. “Brain damage?”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. We would be able to tell by now if it was serious,” the nurse assured Prince, urging him back down onto the bed. “At most, she has a concussion. She’ll be alright.”

Prince lay down again gingerly. “OK… I guess.” He was silent for a moment… but he was also curious.

“What happened to Larry?”

“Larry Clockturn? The police are handling that. They haven’t given me many details, I’m afraid,” the nurse told Prince. “All I know is that they haven’t moved his body yet. And the so-called ‘purge’ is over, by the way. Most of the mafia turned tail and ran after they figured out Clockturn was gone,” she laughed. “National guard didn’t encounter much resistance after that.”

Prince didn’t ask anything else. It was the nurse’s turn, now.

“It says here that four of you are siblings. Prince, Monica, Hadrian, and Stephanie Aguilar. And Isaiah… Smith,” she said, walking over to Isaiah’s bed. “It is to my understanding that you are affiliated with the mafia.”

Isaiah’s eyes widened. “Uh, I mean, like-“

The nurse held up her hand to stop him. “I’m not a police officer, but don’t be surprised if they come in here to question you guys at some point. I just wanted to warn you about it, so you aren’t blindsided,” she explained.

“Yeah… yeah, OK. Cool,” said Isaiah, even though it was not at all cool.

The nurse nodded. “Well, that’s it for now,” she said as she turned to leave. “Just sit tight. The doctor will be along soon.”

Prince took a deep breath. Larry was deactivated. They were out of the sewers. The purge was over. They were in a hospital at last. Everything was fine again.

In the sewers, however, things were not so fine. Police tape lined the walls of the room Larry had collapsed in, cold and unmoving. Officers surrounded him.

One of them looked up at the manhole high above them. “We could airlift him…?”

“Through that tiny opening? I’m not so sure,” his Lieutenant responded. No one was certain about how they were going to get this colossus out of the sewer and into police custody.

“We might have to move him all the way through the tunnel. Into the nearest water-”

The officer was cut off and his head jerked back as a bullet pierced the middle of his forehead.

The other cops drew their service weapons. The round had come from the other side of the locked iron gate. They returned fire. So did their assailants.

There was no cover in the room. More officers dropped dead. One of them tried to speak into his radio. “Shots fired. All units to the 5th-”

He was shot dead as well before he could finish.

The Lieutenant glimpsed something through the metal bars of the gate. Something green and glowing. He fired reflexively. The round ricocheted off metal. He stared into the darkness, confused, but there was no time to ponder as bullets continued to whizz past his ears.

“We’re taking too many casualties! Fall back!” yelled the Lieutenant.

The remaining officers ran from the gate and disappeared around the bend of the tunnel, leaving Larry’s body behind.

The mobsters lowered their guns. Their leader, who had been watching from the back of the troupe, made her way to the iron gate. Her high heels clicked against the concrete. The sound echoed through the now-quiet passageway.

She towered above her cohorts. The lock on the gate broke easily as she raised her slender arm and forced it open with one hand.

The lady reached the felled automaton. She walked around his inert figure and clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“Take him,” she ordered.

The mobsters, with some difficulty, lifted him up and carried him into the small speedboat they’d used to traverse the sewer’s water channels. The motor roared to life.

As the helmsman steered them back to the river outside, he glanced at his boss. “We’re not gonna reactivate him, Miss Gearwise?”

“No,” she answered shortly.

“Then… what are you going to do with him?”

The lady’s icy gaze fell on Larry. The corners of her metallic green lips curved up into a small smirk.

“I have a few ideas.”

[randomanimehoe]

Frick it, it’s spooky season so here’s part 2 of my Creepypasta fanfic

enjoy peoples :) (it’s a bit short but that’s ok)

I groaned as I heaved my lead like body off the ice. Did I fall and hit my head? And how long was I out? Probably only an hour since I arrived here at 2 and the sky went dark by 4 in the winter. Whatever, I don't have time to think about it. 

Slowly and shaky, I pushed myself up and skated towards my bag. I sat down on a rock and groaned at the amount of snow pilled up on my coat, someone might as well have dumped a bag of flour on it. Regardless, I changed into my normal boots and shook of my coat, putting it on and trudging back home; a lingering pain still in my head. 

When I stepped through the front door, I was slapped by the suffocating warmth of the furnace and mumbled heys from my siblings on the couch, eyes superglued to their Roblox games.

I grumbled in response, just wanting to take a shower and get some rest. 

I went to my room, dropping my gear on the floor and grabbing a black promised never land hoodie and some plain black and blue spandex leggings. Heading to the bathroom, I stripped myself of my cold, wet skating clothes;then turning on the shower and waiting for it to get warm before stepping in, letting the steam fill my senses, the water cascading down my back hugging me in its gentle embrace. I stood there for a minute or two before I began washing my hair and reflecting on the mental image of the strange figure. 

The more I thought about it, the more that my head would hurt, the static ringing in my ears as if it were still there, watching me.

'It wasn't real, you're just over reacting.'

I finished up my shower and changed into my clothes. I went back to my room and flopped down on my bed, letting sleep take me into it's caring yet sinister arms; a sense of clarity finally freeing my senses from the overwhelming static.

'Back in to forest, back under the endless skies and away from the rest of the world. No responsibilities, no idiots to interfere, just me and my thoughts. 

"Hello child," came a deep and formal voice out of no where. "I've been watching you."

I felt ice water trickle down my spine, the static filling my head once again but not as violently. I was afraid but didn't want to let it show. "Who are you and what do you want from me?" I managed to choke out without stuttering; despite my voice having a slight rock to it.

Silence, followed by a deep, guttural chuckle, silky and terrifying all at once. "Call me Slenderman."

458 words

[ctrlaltsoob]

11. directions - take a hint (csb)

summary: worrying about anything else couldn’t matter less to huh y/n, who cares so desperately at beating the one and only choi soobin in absolutely everything she can. although maybe there are some things than only can take the trophy for first…

or where two people fail to realise that the line between love and hate is very thin, even though they might be the smartest in their studies.

warnings: swearing, banter between friends, it's so awkward i cringed when writing this

a/n: again with the late updates go me !!! i start work soon so pls bear with me asdkjhdkjs also i am Very Sad that game caterers is now over pls everyone being whipped soobin they just like me fr

10. harmony | masterlist | 12. minecraft vs. roblox

more under the cut [sns, wc. 3k]

“you’re too close to the car next to me by the way— hey! you have no more gum,” sunghoon grumbles, holding up the empty container. “what’s the point of keeping the pot in your car if there’s nothing in it?”

you shouldn’t have brought him along with you. “open your door and check if you can get out,” you sigh, resisting the very tempting urge to slam your head against the steering wheel. he does as you say, peering at you cautiously when he’s able to do do successfully.

throughout the nearly two hour drive to the airport, sunghoon has not once failed to annoy you with his spontaneous trivia sessions or invasive questions. you should’ve begged heesung to take your cousin instead, and swapped him out for yeji. that way, at least your head wouldn’t spin at every brainless question that came out of his mouth.

“sunghoon, the arrivals gate is this way,” you tug at his sleeve as he begins to walk the opposite way. “you really have no sense of direction.”

“says the one who missed the exit,” he argues, slightly pouting as you look him up and down in disgust.

“you look like a horse. stop that.”

“you’re rude as shit. no wonder soobin can’t stand you.”

“you seem to be mentioning him a lot lately,” you pay no mind to him as you look around to find the rest of your friends. “do you have something to tell me?”

“weird how you’ve noticed. tell me,” he prompts, yanking your bag off your shoulder to rummage throught it just to find any pieces of gum. “did your heart collapse when you saw him shirtless?”

“i will crash the car on the way back.”

sunghoon is just something else. why on earth would your heart do little spins in your chest or inflate to the point where it felt like it would explode? now that you think about it, the questions that your insolent little cousin has been bombarding you with have been a little too specific for your liking. like the time where he asked whether or not soobin preferred to bite or lick his ice cream, only for the two of you to somehow bicker over the correct method through text. or when sunghoon asked if you preferred the city or the countryside, just for soobin to somehow diss your preference for the city. but you’re confident this time that your heart did not do backflips during that spontaneous call with the devil.

so why can you feel your face getting hot?

“someone’s a little too aggressive,” he muses, entertained with the way redness tints your ears, and then your neck, and then finally your cheeks. “i think there’s something you have to confess.”

“you’re going insane. is this what loneliness does to a person? it’s okay hoon, you’ll find your one and only someday,” you snatch your bag out of his nosy hands, looping the straps around your shoulder and clinging onto it tightly.

“are you saying this because you’re finally admitting that soobin is your one and only?” there’s a devilish smile on his face, one that you want to burn off with an iron. sunghoon might be your closest and most favoured cousin, but like hell does he test your patience.

“silence tells me yes, y/n,” he calls, hurrying after you as you walk away. he grabs ahold of your arm, intertwining it with his own to prevent him from getting lost.

“silence should also tell you that i’ve had enough of you,” you huff as you purposely trip him up. “i don’t have to explain why i would rather date a tree than him again, do i?”

“i could probably recite it for you,” he says, ignoring the pointed look you give him.

“at least i know you’ve been paying some mind to what i say,” you mutter as you make your way to three figures standing by the seated area of the arrival gate. sunghoon immediately detaches himself from your side upon seeing yeji’s bag slung over heesung’s shoulder.

“she doesn’t have any gum, i checked,” heesung says flatly, watching how he reaches for the bag without a second thought. “just go buy some yourself. it’s only like, what, one? two fifty?”

“that’s already way too much money,” sunghoon protests. “i’m not spending money on gum in this economy.”

“then quit complaining about my empty gum containers,” you hit him on the back of the head as yeji snickers at the dejected look on his face. “all you do is complain.”

“like you can talk. it’s always soobin this, soobin that. how about you just kiss and make up,” he blinks at you innocently.

“you’ve talked about him more than i have in the past hour,” you’re completely unimpressed with how much sunghoon’s been pressing this entire ordeal. it’s getting kind of boring, to be honest; does he not have anything else to bother you with? “since you’ve been dying to know about him, would you like me to describe to you the features of his very pretty face in intricate detail?”

“you can see his face in real life if you’d like,” ryujin muses, slightly confused with why you decided to respond like that. she motions towards the group of men hauling around several suitcases on a luggage trolley walking in your direction. you recognise him almost instantly, with his chunky black rimmed glasses, grey hoodie, and matching black sweats. even though he’s not that much taller than the others in his group, he sticks out to you like a sore thumb. it’s because he looks ugly, you tell yourself.

you’ve been scrutinising soobin’s attire for some time now that somehow you miss how beomgyu creeps up beside you and snakes an arm around your neck. he pulls you close to him, effectively shouting in your ear as he speaks.

“did you miss me?” you tear your eyes away from the six foot irritant and look at your best friend. he raises his eyebrows at the disappointed look on your face.

“couldn’t go a day without thinking about you,” you crouch down and tie your shoelaces, ultimately dodging beomgyu’s hand which tried to pinch your face. soobin watches as beomgyu knocks you over with his knees, causing you to fall onto your side. he watches again with a small smile on his face as you attach yourself onto beomgyu’s leg, preventing him from moving anywhere.

“you’re too obvious,” heesung nudges his friend’s shoulder. “what has the states done to you?”

soobin checks himself after hearing heesung’s words. he stands up straighter and clears his throat. “i’m laughing at her falling over, don’t get it twisted.”

“right, except you look like you’ve found the cutest puppy in the world and that you want nothing more than to take her home and cherish her forever,” heesung blinks at him, watching as a lopsided frown forms on soobin’s face, the dimples on either side of his mouth barely visible as he tries his best to keep a nonchalant expression. “something tells me that this isn’t the first time you’ve thought of her in the past month.”

“i wasn’t thinking of her—“

“right, sorry. not the first time you’ve giggled at her or whatever you said.”

“who the fuck said—”

your head shoots up upon hearing his words. “you do what now?”

“no, i don’t giggle,” soobin coughs out the word as if it’s some frog that’s been caught in his throat. there’s pure judgement on your face as he has a dramatic coughing fit. does the fact that he’s been coughing for so long slightly concern you? maybe, but in hindsight, it’s somewhat entertaining to see him choke on his own words. he might not be completely silent, but at least he isn’t spreading his stupid agenda through his speech. once he finally finishes his excessive coughing spectacle, he clears his throat once more and the two of you engage in a rather awkward staring contest.

the atmosphere between you is so uncomfortable that you want to run away and never look him in the eyes again, yet for some strange, twisted reason, you can’t bear to turn away. even heesung, the only person across the two of your groups to know what’s really going on between you, winces at the sight before him.

“y/n, what the fuck are you doing? get up,” beomgyu shakes his leg, catching you off guard and causing you to fall to the floor yet again. soobin tenses as he watches you fall, a sudden instinct yelling at him to help you, but all he does is remain frozen in place.

“are you sick in the head?” you pinch the tip of beomgyu’s ears as he almost doubles over with laughter after seeing the expression on your face. “take a taxi home. you’re not going in my car.”

“i’ll just go with heesung,” he sticks his tongue out at you, the amused glint in his eyes never leaving. heesung snorts after hearing him speak and mutters a quiet ‘as if’ before walking ahead of him to join the others. your friend chases after him, hurriedly pushing the luggage trolley along, leaving you alone with soobin.

you turn to face him once more. “you’re not going with me either,” you tell him, finger pointing at him like you’re accusing him of a crime. he pulls a face, finger pointing back at you.

“i didn’t say i would,” he mimics the same tone you used on him just now. the two of you stand in silence, that same feeling of awkwardness washing over you again.

this time it’s you who clears your throat. “well, uh, good,” you say slowly, suddenly unsure of what to say to the man before you. “i don’t want you near me.” you immediately regret those words as soon as they leave your mouth, and when you find yourself wondering if what you said was too harsh, you make a face out of confusion.

“right. we should probably go…” soobin gestures vaguely to your group of friends walking far ahead. you nod a little faster than you’d like, letting him walk off before you do. the sudden courtesy you show him doesn’t go unnoticed, but he shuts his mouths and says nothing anyways.

“you walk too fast,” you mutter under your breath, trying to keep up with his abnormally long strides. the frustrated look on your face amuses him, but the way he silently laughs tells you that he has no intention of slowing down. “asshole.”

“i thought you didn’t want me near you?” he repeats gleefully, satisfied with the way you glare at the ground as if it owes you money. a series of grumbles leave your mouth, probably insults aimed at him and his stupidly long legs. “wait, that reminds me.”

he stops walking and shakes his bag off his shoulders, holding you by the sleeve to prevent you from walking away and abandoning him completely. there’s an unimpressed look on your face as you watch him dig through his bag, and you wonder why you haven’t just left him behind to catch up with the rest of your group.

“what is it?” you eye him suspiciously, eyes squinting as he pulls out another white bag containing undisclosed objects inside of it. has he really brought something back for you? “don’t tell me you’ve gone all soft on me.”

“you think too highly of yourself,” he purses his lips together in a thin line. the way soobin unceremoniously shoves the bag into your hands has you rolling your eyes, but it's not enough to eradicate your curiosity. pulling the contents of the bag out into your hands, you’re stunned to see two souvenirs resting in your palms, and wait are those—?

“forget-me-nots and tulips. fitting seeing as you’re the most irritating person in the world,” he says, watching your expression carefully. is his mind playing tricks on him, or are those tears in your eyes?

there’s genuine gratitude carefully hidden behind the shock in your eyes, and soobin finds himself entranced with the way your eyelids flutter in a way to hide what he suspected were tears dusting your vision. he knows you like it, or at the very least appreciates his gesture due to the way your mouth curls upwards ever so slightly. somehow, a sense of pride fills him as you struggle to maintain your apathetic attitude.

“i’m surprised you even remembered,” you carefully inspect the band of blue flowers. “that i like these ones, i mean.”

he scoffs lightly. “as if i’d ever forget how much you wouldn’t shut up about these,” he rolls his eyes, and you ignore the strange pang in your heart as he speaks. “you’re not a person that’s so easily forgotten.”

“thanks? i guess,” was that a compliment or an insult? you can’t really tell. but either way, the fact remains that he very clearly remembers life between you two as it was, and that sets off smoke in your mind.

“it’s nothing,” he says sheepishly, almost regretting giving this gift to you in the middle of an airport. “you’re going to have to look after odi for a little longer anyways. might as well give you something for that.”

“i’m moving houses,” he clarifies after seeing the confused look on your face.

“far away or…?”

“no, no. it’s um, still nearby.”

you nod in response to him. you’re not entirely sure why you asked if he was moving far away, and you’re definitely not sure why your heart stings at the idea of him being further away. the awkward atmosphere returns between you two again, and you suddenly have the urge to talk to him to get rid of it.

“um, i was wondering if—“

the sound of your phone ringing cuts you off. in seeing beomgyu’s name illuminate the screen you curse yourself for managing to get into this situation. soobin looks at you funny before you accept the call and put him on speakerphone, walking again towards the exit.

“y/n, where are you? i want to go home.”

“i thought you were going with heesung?”

“sunwoo took the last seat,” you can picture him rolling his eyes. “little bitch.”

“are there no more seats left in his car?”

“well, yes,” beomgyu states flatly. “that’s what ‘last seat’ means.”

great. now you have to drive back with not only beomgyu in your car, but also soobin sitting somewhere behind you. you’re positive that you’ll end up crashing.

“i know that dumbass,” you snap, stepping into the lift for the carpark. it’s an awkward and painful ride with just you and soobin confined in the tiny metal box, but you close your eyes and pretend like he’s not there. “we’ll be there in five minutes.”

“we’ll? are you with soobin right now?”

“yes, she’s with me,” he replies before you can. you look up at him and he shrugs, ignoring the obvious question in the air. “i want the window seat. save it for me.”

beomgyu coughs on the other side of the line. whether it’s intentional, or purely a coincidence you can’t tell. “okay then. just… hurry up and finish whatever you’re doing. i’m tired.”

“we just got lost that’s all,” you lie and beomgyu hums, seeing straight through you. you sigh as you step out of the lift, soobin following quietly behind you. “just wait, we’re nearly there.”

you end the call before he can say anything else. the white plastic bag is still in your hands as you approach the car that’s surrounded by several other people.

“you’re a bad liar,” he says, breaking the agonising silence.

“did you want me to tell him that you’ve gone all soft and given me a gift?”

“i have not gone soft,” he mutters. “i was just being nice.”

“that’s not possible for you.”

as the two of you approach the car, your friends watch as you bicker. something’s obviously changed while one half went abroad; it’s obvious from the way there’s less glaring and more subtle glances. you look more relaxed around each other, something that your friends didn’t think was possible with you two. it’s a strange sight to see you not squaring up to each other like angry squirrels.

“bets on their confessions by the end of this month,” sunghoon says outloud to no one in particular. beomgyu nods his head, along with yeji.

“i’d give it maybe another two months,” taehyun offers, surprised to see the same expression on soobin’s face that he saw when you two called. “y/n will chicken out.”

ryujin clicks her tongue. “agreed. she’s not easy on this sorta stuff.”

heesung leans back on the hood of his car. the way you two seem now looks awfully familiar to the way you were before everything went sideways. there’s a part of him that dreads the possibility of you two becoming a thing, purely because a) he can’t stand to see his two closest friends all sappy with each other, and b) because he knows that for you two to actually make it official, you’d have to talk it all out, and that in itself is already way too messy. but of course, at least you’d have made amends, because at the end of the day, that’s the most important thing, right?

taglist (open): @bergandysam

[chilling-seavey]

Flint being caught by Daniel swearing whilst playing video games bc he’s the chaotic younger brother 😌

↳  A/N Blurbs stemming from dm concepting are the best tbh- 🤎

↳ Word Count: 1423

↳ Seasons Change Masterlist

March 24, 2032

Flint nearly cherished his hour of computer time he got after school. With Daniel out working on the farm with Lennox and Blythe somewhere in town, Flint was set down at the office desk in the farmhouse with his father’s laptop until he would come back inside from work. Usually he played some sort of online game like Roblox or Minecraft but eight-year-old Flint managed to download Counter-Strike: Global Offensive through the online gaming site and hid the file deep in a folder on Daniel’s desktop.

On a Wednesday afternoon, Flint hopped off the bus and ran up the long driveway towards the farmhouse. He barely shouted a hello to his father and brother in the barn before he was skipping up the front porch steps and into the foyer of the house. He tossed his backpack onto the bench by the door and kicked off his shoes to not waste a single minute he had of his after school free time.

Daniel’s laptop was always sitting in the same place on the desk and Flint helped himself up to the wheeled office chair and opened the top of the computer. He typed in the password – Marigold22– and opened up the folder in which he had hidden his secret game. In forty-five minutes he would have to switch to a game he was actually allowed to play, but for the time being, he let the adult rated game load, and tapped his fingers impatiently on the edge of the wooden desk.

Despite how clever he thought he was being, Flint didn’t know that the office window had been left open to let the refreshing spring air into the house. At eight-years-old, Flint basked in the whole house to himself and spoke aloud to himself as he chose his character, his weapon, and his map for gameplay. Those who were his teammates or opponents were mostly adults from around the country all on a single server although Flint couldn’t hear them without a headset and he still spoke loudly as if he were truly in conversation.

The game wasn’t going well for Flint that day and the slight anger and frustration that was bubbling up in his stomach was let out through annoyed curses and grumbles. At an impressionable age, Flint absorbed things like a sponge and especially swear words that he learned from his school peers, online, and even his father the odd time. He had to admit though, swearing was certainly a stress releaser.

“Dammit!” Flint grumbled, small hands clicking aggressively against the keyboard and mouse, “Fucking…shoot him!”

But when his target killed his character first, the eight-year-old literally screamed in annoyance, slamming his hand down on the top of the wood desk with a loud, “Shit!”

He re-spawned onto the map and only seconds later, as he turned the corner, was shot again.

“Are you fucking serious?!” Flint shrieked, flopping back in the desk chair dramatically, “God…fuck!”

Only a few yards away, his elder brother was bringing some fresh chicken feed to the coop around the side of the house and easily picked up the noise from inside the farmhouse. Lennox only half listened to his little brother’s obvious annoyance as he opened the latch on the chicken coop and crouched down to refill the feed.

“Shit, shit, shit…fucking aim you…you…you dick!”

Lennox nearly hit his head on the top of the chicken coop in shock, whipping around to see if anyone else heard those words come out of his eight-year-old brother’s mouth. He seemed to be the only one around. He was quite close with his little brother so didn’t necessarily want to tattle on him so he kept his mouth shut and did his work.

But it was had to ignore when Flint was literally screaming at the top of his lungs, swearing like a sailor – although a little choppily since he was eight after all – and definitely causing the chickens to freak out a little. Lennox made sure they were back in the coop before closing the small wire door again and stood up to head back to the barn.

But Daniel was already walking down the small embankment towards him, “Spud! What’s that noise?”

Lennox cleared his throat and gestured casually to the open office window, “Ask your kid.”

The elder brother hurried past him and up towards the barn again and Daniel turned his attention to the open office window a few paces away. He really didn’t need to step any closer to listen as Flint’s screaming was as clear as day.

“Die, die, die, can you fucking die already? Piece of…of fucking…shit!”

Daniel’s expression mimicked Lennox’s in pure surprise at what he was hearing although he didn’t waste a moment before hurrying around the house and up the front porch steps and right into the front hall.

Flint’s frustrated scream nearly echoed through the house, pitchy with youthfulness but strong with obvious anger and Daniel didn’t even take off his shoes before stepping over to the French doors of the office, hiding just around the corner for a moment.

“Oh my God!” Flint shouted, “Dumb…ass…fucking dick- stop fucking killing me! Son of a bitch.”

Daniel eased himself around the corner casually into view, arms crossed over his chest and shoulder resting against the door frame.

“Fuck! Piece of sh-” Flint’s words stopped suddenly in his mouth as his eyes snapped over to the figure of his father in the doorway. The sound effects of the violent video game played on in the background as Flint slowly lowered his hands from the keyboard down to his lap, green eyes wide in near fear at the far too cool composure of his father.

“Hey, Sprout. What are we playing here?” Daniel asked casually.

Flint physically gulped, “Nothin’.”

“Shut it off, please.”

Flint hurried to close the game without even saving it, “I…thought you were in the barn.”

“We could hear you from the barn. I bet Corbyn heard you all the way at the store.” Daniel answered as he walked over to the desk and reached over to see the small game icon in the open folder. “Counter-Strike? Since when did we say you could download that?”

Flint didn’t answer.

“That is a M-rated game with means for adults. You know better than you download things without asking me first.”

Flint stared at his lap.

Daniel gently grabbed his chin and lifted his head up so he was looking at him, “Right?”

Flint nodded, tears brimming in his eyes as he breathed out a nervous, “Right.”

“Delete it.” Daniel gestured back to the laptop screen.

Flint slid the mouth over to the game icon and pressed the delete button, watching as the folder emptied and he let out a small sob. Daniel closed his computer and glanced down to his youngest son who started crying loudly from being found out.

“And I don’t want words like that coming out of your mouth ever again.” Daniel said sternly, “That is disgusting language and no son of mine is going to say those things around here. Ever. Where did you learn those? Because it sure as hell wasn’t from this house.”

Flint only cried harder.

Daniel sighed, “Doesn’t matter where; just don’t ever use them again, you hear me?”

The eight-year-old nodded.

“I’ll have to talk to Mommy about parental controls on the computer now.”

“Daddy!” Flint sobbed in protest.

“And,” Daniel spoke over him, “What your consequences will be. For now, right up to your room. Start your homework.”

“I’m sorry!” Flint pleaded.

“Thank you. Now right upstairs.”

Daniel stepped to the side and Flint jumped off the desk chair and went stomping up the stairs through his sobs, finalizing his meltdown with a slam of his bedroom door. Lennox, who had been eavesdropping from outside the open window, finally spoke up,

“Eight-year-old me kinda looks like an angel now, huh?”

Daniel only laughed at that.

Seasons Change Taglist: @stuffofseaveyy @randomlimelightxxx @jonahlovescoffee @hiya-its-amber @hopinglimelight @onlyangelavery @sbrewer21 @bessonsbxtch @viamiasoncrack @the-girl-who-cried-wolf @21burritoseavey @queenseavey23 @xkelsev

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[doorrobloxstuff]

had a thought rolling around in my head for a while now but uhhh

Part of me is thinking about seek and queen grumble arranged marriage type shit- <- knows seekgure is canon in ur writing but needed to share it with someone or else I'll go fucking insane /silly

My grumble is Aro Ace :)

It’s mortified by the thought of being in a romantic relationship and..other things make its tentacles tingle in a bad way.

But it does have its people. (Seek is it’s nephew + the extended family that comes w/Seek.)

…and it did have a special someone,,,

[peculiar-shardscape]

PAPER ROBLOX: TRUE SOULS AU

WARNING: SUPER FREAKING LONG AND ALSO PROBABLY REALLY BAD BECAUSE IM MENTALLY ILL AND I SUCK AT WRITING

”They always said, you can die a hero or live long enough to become a villain. But of course, I’m no hero. No, I never was. I could never be.” 

[graduation photo of Claire] 

“I’m just a regular mayor. I have no ‘special power’ or a way of saving others. I just watch the world do its own thing, and let it be saved by those with the ability to.” 

[Claire is standing by a window, looking outside, there is Protagonist, watering the bushes] 

“Being a hero is such a special thing. Everyone looks up to you like their saviour, keeping the world at peace and the monsters at bay. The heroes always win, they say. But how long will it be until ‘always’ ends...?”

Claire: aaAAUGGGGHHH!! 

[Claire slams the desk with her fists, yelling angrily. She hides her head with her arms as Postman immediately walked into the room] 

Postman: Miss...? Are you alright? 

[Postman began walking over to Claire’s table as she brought her head up to look at him] 

Claire: Postman... I didn’t mean to worry you, sorry. 

Postman: Mayor, you’ve been like this for weeks now. You know it’s not something you should just keep to yourself... 

[Claire frowned at Postman, sighing before eventually smiling] 

Claire: You always worry, don’t you, Postman? You get yourself carried away by thinking more about others than yourself, heh! I’m fine, I assure you. 

[Postman gave an uncertain frown, and Claire would notice quickly] 

Claire: ... Come on, Postman. You’re giving me that look again. 

Postman: You do exactly that, Mayor. You never care for yourself the way you do for others. I’m just looking out for you, Miss. 

 Claire: I know, I know... It’s just... You know, being a mayor and everything is just a lot of work, you know? 

Postman: ... 

Claire: ... That’s it, Postman. That’s all I’m worried about. There’s nothing more about me. 

Postman: You say that all the time. Maybe work is stressful, but there’s more than that. I can tell. You’ve been acting like this since the world was saved.

Claire: When you put it that way... 

[Claire stands up, giving Postman a very upset look]

Claire: You’re making it seem like I’m a bad guy who’s unhappy the world was saved. 

Postman: ... I know. I’m sorry. 

 [Claire shudders while Postman looks down, arms crossed.] 

Claire: ... Have you been talking to Aaron again...? You know I told you not to listen to his stupid rambling, right? 

[Postman looked back up at Claire] 

Postman: He knows more about this world than we do, Mayor. He may be a bother at the worst times, but he’s been my best friend since we were kids. Look, that’s not the point right now. I’m just worried for you, please take care of yourself.

[Postman made a turn, walking out to the exit. As the door opened, a glimpse of green was seen right before it closed. Claire grumbled, looking down at her desk.] 

Claire: that stupid narrator has no idea what he’s doing. 

[She stands up, walking out the same way Postman did. Both Postman and Aaron were nowhere to be seen. The robloxians were just roaming about, going on with their days like usual. Claire sighs, walking off. Seems like she was going out for a long walk, out of Cutout Town. Where could she really go though? After all the revamps, she hasn’t gotten used to the town since. She decides to just go on a straight path, so she can just go straight back without getting lost later.... Hopefully...] 

[She was staring down at the ground, pondering over the town and what she’s supposed to be doing. She hasn’t done anything useful in so long, it’s like the world didn’t even need her. Without realising, she walked deep into an unknown forest, out of sight from all the robloxians around] 

Claire: There’s no use for a mayor... As long as the heroes are there, they’re all everyone needs. Someone to save them and bring joy and peace. That’s it, isn’t it? For all these times without the heroes, I did as much as I could for everyone... All I could do was give everyone hope... But now I feel as though I’m losing hope for myself... 

[She looks up. Where was she? She hadn’t a clue.] 

Claire: ... This wasn’t here before... Where am I...? 

[She looked around, analysing her whereabouts. She turned around, seeing as the exit of the forest was a long way away. She walked in a straight line, surely she could just walk straight back, right? So that’s what she did...] 

[But it felt like she was going elsewhere... No signs of Cutout Town was anywhere, and the trees were so crowded and hard to see through. Claire surely couldn’t be lost... But of course she was. All the while she was wandering, she was straying further away from home]

Claire: Come on, Claire! How hard could finding home be? It should just be around this corner-! 

[Claire would be cut off as she made a turn, tripping over some rocks on the floor and tumbling down a smooth slope. It’d only be a few seconds when she stopped stumbling, getting up to see herself in front of a very... Unique plant. Whatever it was, Claire had never seen it before. She approached the plant, but kept a distance in case of danger. The plant gave... A very strange aura... So cryptic yet... Welcoming... Claire’s eyes were on the plant, glued. Her mind went almost blank, with nothing more but a single train of thought... Was there a piece missing from her? The whole reason she’s never felt so important? ... And did the plant have anything to do with it...?] 

[Claire stood closer to the plant. Her hand slowly moved towards it, without even a shudder. She finally took hold of the plant, and suddenly it entangled itself around her hand, her wrist, and past her arm. It felt nice, like it was embracing Claire gently. The plant finally found it’s way behind her ear, and a sweet pastel green flower petal or two sprouted out. Claire couldn’t see it, but she could feel it, and she had not felt any better. Her eyes widened with the sweet feeling, and she’d look around her surroundings again. She had a slight smile before running a certain direction, finally finding herself back in Cutout Town.]

[Nobody noticed her running out of the forest, nor did they even see her walk past them. But it seemed like Claire didn’t care. She just walked to the fountain, looking down at the water to see her reflection. Her eyes shone so brightly, and the petals behind her ear gave a nice look to her. She looked back up, seeing Aaron floating in the air, legs crossed] 

Aaron: Howdy, Clairey. What you been up to? 

[She didn’t respond. She just gave him a smile, but rather a friendly one, it gave off a... threatening feeling. Aaron furrowed his brows, raising on confused]

Aaron: ... You know... You can’t do any harm to a narrator, so whatever it is you’re thinking... It’s probably not going to work...

[Aaron would let out a quiet chuckle before his smile instantly fell] 

Aaron: ... Speaking of which, what are you actually thinking...? Something’s blocking my way of reading your mind... 

[Claire’s smile widened, and her eyes began glowing more. It started becoming... Very unsettling. Aaron would begin standing in the air, floating a little further away from Claire] 

Aaron: ... You’re... Not Claire... Are you...?