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Just out of Reach, but Never out of Sight
So..... it's been *looks at last update* SHEESH A YEAR ?!?! Uhhhh I'm so sorry this took so long to update, but I am far from done with this au so let's go for getting another upload! I've shared my views on the whole William Gold thing so further explanation is here. But without further a do, enjoy!
Chapter 4
chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3 cw: panic, anxiety, fear of abandonment, mentions of child abuse/neglect and a whole lot of fluff :3 wc: 3938
Disclaimer! This story is based on the characters of the Dream SMP and not the real life content creators. Anything that occurs in this story is purely fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you.
 シ ・ďžâ: *. .* シ ・ďžâ : â˝ .* シ ・ďžâ: *. .*Â
Wilbur sat at the dining room table, his plate of syrup-drowned waffles staring back at him.
He wanted to know what Phil and Tommy were talking about and why the boy had hid under the bed.
He thought theyâd calmed him down last night?Â
The second heâd given Tommy the little cow plushie, Wilbur noticed how the boyâs eyes had widened with wonder. It was the sweetest thing the blonde had done since he met him, and heâd had to hold himself back from cooing and wrapping the boy into a hug.
But doing that would definitely be overstepping some kind of boundary judging by Tommyâs reactions and that was the last thing the brunette wanted to do. All the evidence was right there when heâd thought about it as he drifted off to sleep the night before. The flinching, the withdrawnness and the fear of saying the wrong thing; it all just began to add up.Â
Tommy had been abused.
No child would be dressed in poorly put together rags and react the way they had if they hadnât thought they were going to be hurt. Hiding under the bed was the confirmation he needed that his assumptions were true and all he could think about was how he didnât want anyone else hurting that sweet little boy ever again.
Not if he had anything to say about it.
âWhatâs got you in a tizzy?âÂ
Wilbur lifted his head to see his twin, Technoblade, leaned up against the kitchen counter with a freshly poured steaming cup of coffee.
âMorning Techno. Sorry, didnât hear you enter.â
âItâs not like you to be up so early Wil.â The pink-haired teen commented curiously.Â
He couldnât help but observe the way his brother kept their gaze trained towards the hallway as he joined them at the dining table. He could make out the muffled voice of Phil talking from the other room but not what was being said.
âIs it that kid Dad brought home?â Technoblade asked. âI heard you both calling for them this morning which woke me up.âÂ
âYeah, sorry about that.â Wilbur smiled apologetically as he faced his brother across the table. âWe were, but Dadâs with him now under the bed.â
âHeâs what?â Techno arched his brow perplexed. âUnder the bed?â
âYeah.â Wilbur sighed heavily. âI think I spooked him when I was going to come in about breakfast, and he panicked.âÂ
He couldnât help but think about how closed off Tommy had been the night before. The way he seemed to carefully choose his movements and would shrink back if he felt like he overdid it. He wanted to see the Tommy with the spitfire attitude. Not the child that felt the need to tread carefully through every interaction.
âI think- I think wherever he came from he was abused, Tech.âÂ
âWell from how you and Dad described him in the messages, it certainly wouldnât be too far-fetched to assume it.â Techno sipped his coffee as Wilbur grabbed his knife to cut into his waffles and sighed.
âWell whatever happened to Tommy, Iâm hoping we can get him to open up and talk to us.âÂ
For his sake.
 シ ・ďžâ: *. .* シ ・ďžâ : â˝ .* シ ・ďžâ: *. .*Â
Leaving the guest bedroom had been far harder than what it should have been.
While he knew Phil was only concerned for his well being, Tommy wasnât quite sure he was ready to be in the presence of all 3 Beans at once.Â
He knew Phil had mentioned the night before about Techno coming home late which undoubtedly meant the teen was up by now having his morning coffee and Tommy knew how Techno tended to act around ânew visitors.âÂ
One good perk of living in the walls was you learned how every person of the household acted around each other, and new people. Phil and Wilbur were always fairly welcoming, but Techno wasnât the easiest to talk to. If you didnât know him, he may come across as cold and calculating. Not the easiest person to approach without shaking in your boots thatâs for sure.
But as Tommy would tell you, he knew that after the guests had all left, the sheer amount of relief the pinkette would feel, further revealing how awkward they had been about being around these âstrangersâ was hilarious. It wasnât a villain behind glasses moment, just an awkward teen with limited social skills.Â
Tommy couldnât help but giggle to himself as heâd watched the teen collapse in his bed after a certain interaction with a salesman as if it had drained all the life out of him. People just werenât Technoâs strong suit.
But even knowing this didnât ease the boy's nerves. It didnât change the fact that even if Technoblade was socially awkward that he wasnât capable of harm. The fencing trophies in his room a testament to that feat of strength.
His nervousness about having breakfast with the 3 must have been obvious, because Phil had gently placed his hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before leading them both out of the guest room and to the dining room.
Just breathe Tommy. They don't know what you are yet.Â
Youâre okay for now.
âMorning Tech, good to see you up and about.â Phil greeted chipperly as he manoeuvred himself into the kitchen leaving Tommy to observe by the hallway. âIâd like you to meet Tommy.â
Tommy briefly met Technoâs gaze and was met with a solemn stare as they sipped on their coffee. Heâd be joking if he said he knew what was going on in the teens head.Â
The blonde forced himself to give one short acknowledging nod at the pinkette, not trusting his voice to form any coherent words as he shifted uncomfortably from where he stood. He deliberately kept his eyes averted from the twins at the table, fully well knowing Techno was most definitely staring at him, if the hot feeling of holes being burnt through his chest wasnât already obvious enough.Â
It took everything in him to not run right there and then.
âTommy, why donât you take a seat next to Techno and Iâll fix you up something to eat.â
Okay now would be a good time for his voice box to work because there was no way he wanted to sit next to Technoblade.Â
That was NOT his ideal way of getting caught.Â
It didnât matter if humans couldnât read minds, if anyone could catch on to something being off, it would be Technoblade. It was like the teen had a sixth sense and somehow just always knew when something wasnât quite right. Just like the moving of the craft knife, he was sure if he slipped up in front of Techno, theyâd know and it would be game over and onto the torture in a heartbeat.
Thankfully, it didnât seem like it would come to that, as Techno was quick to stand and tuck in his chair as he excused himself to finish some upcoming school work.
âAll good Dad, Iâve got homework to finish before school on Monday. Iâll just excuse myself.â
Tommy felt himself relax. Oh, thank Prime for humans and their absurd amounts of homework! Even if he didnât really understand why they got it.
âAlright Techno, just make sure to have something more than coffee this morning alright? And donât let me catch you having something potato-based before lunch, got it?â
âNo promises.â The pinkette replied, before grabbing an apple from the refrigerator and began walking towards his room.
Tommy however was still glued to the hallway.Â
The hallway that led to said Bean's bedroom.
Even though he was Bean sized right now, Technoblade still towered over the young boy. So much so that the light overhead was slightly obscured, casting an eerie shadow over the teens face making his deep brown eyes appear to glow a dark red. Tommy felt the way his heart spiked, his instincts screaming at him to run as his eyes darted around looking for potential tunnels and crevices to escape to. Anything to get away from this predator of man as they came to a steady stop before him.
âAhem.â The teen cleared his throat along with a flick of his head.
What did he want? He hadnât even done anything and was already in trouble? Should he have moved to the table quicker? Or had he stared too long?
A second cough with another jerk of the teen's head as Tommyâs anxiety began to grow finally keyed what Techno wanted from him.
Oh .Â
He wanted him to move.
âTech, quit scaring the poor kid and go around them.â Phil teasingly scolded. âYouâre gonna give Tommy a heart attack.â
Techno huffed in minor annoyance before shuffling past, minorly brushing against Tommyâs arm as he did. It wasnât hard or anything, but Tommy couldnât suppress the flinch it caused from his prior panic. He missed the way Technoâs eyes furrowed in concern as he hurried to move before he caused any more problems.
âDonât mind him Tommy,â Wilbur piped up, drawing the younger's attention back to the table. âHeâs not much of a people person.â
The blonde finally let himself breathe as he brought his attention back to the brunette as they continued. âCome take a seat and have some breakfast, yeah?â
Tommy nodded, gingerly making his way over to the table plopping down opposite Wilbur as instructed before. As he sat, Phil picked up a plate and served a freshly cooked waffle onto it, before drizzling it in thick golden syrup and strawberries.
âHere you are, mate.â The man said placing the decorative dessert in front of him with a knife and fork.
He whispered his thanks as he picked up the utensils, but the Borrower couldnât help but be on edge. Even if Phil and Wilbur had been nice to him his whole stay, Techno clearly didnât want him here. He was sure that after breakfast, Phil was going to take him back to the park like heâd said, but then what? He couldnât tell them that his real home was actually here, but also couldnât risk being taken to the park and never finding his way back.
There had to be a way to figure out this whole mess before they brought up leaving. At most he just had to figure out a way to get back from the park after they left him there because itâs not like the walls were an option until he had a grasp on how he kept growing and shrinking.
Tommy cut a bit of the waffle off before stabbing it and a strawberry onto his fork, the maple syrup having sunken into the fluffy dessert. At least heâd get to enjoy one more good meal before he gets temporarily kicked out.Â
âHopefully not foreverâ the Borrower thought bitterly at the idea of abandoning yet another home.
âSo, Tommy,â Phil began as he set a plate of his own waffles down to join the pair at the table. âFeeling a bit better?â
âYeah, a bit.â He answered as he took another mouthful of waffle. âThe waffles are really good.â The boy said, muffled between chews.
âEw, finish your mouthful before you speak.â Wilbur grimaced as Tommy shovelled another forkful of waffle in. âI donât want to see your mushed-up breakfast, thanks.â
Tommy slowed his chewing and allowed himself to swallow. Shoot, he hadnât meant to upset him with how he ate again. Did he now have to be conscious about how he ate too? He thought humans ate like this all the time though?
âWilbur.â Phil scolded as he elbowed his son in the arm. âYouâre almost as bad as Techno.âÂ
The man sighed before turning his attention back to the tense blonde with a sympathetic smile. âItâs alright Tommy thatâs not what Wilbur meant. Itâs just you need to finish your mouthful before speaking. You could choke if youâre not careful.â
The boy nodded hesitantly before taking another mouthful and chewing it fully before swallowing. Why did humans have to have so many rules? In the colony, no one would have bat an eye if you spoke with your mouth full. Youâd get your share and move on. How you ate was no oneâs business and certainly no one cared about how Tommy ate. Then again, heâd never really had enough food to stuff his face when he was at the colony for it to be an issue.Â
Perhaps he was being sloppyâŚ
âSorry.â He whispered before taking another bite.Â
Phil sighed, setting down his knife with a soft clink. How was he going to get this kid to see that he was safe here? He hadnât meant to make them feel more uncomfortable but it seemed the stress of it all was starting to get to the kid.
The man stared at the plate in front of him, his waffles half-eaten and starting to get cold. Each step of progress to make Tommy feel comfortable felt like it took 2 steps back. The kid was probably itching to get to the park and get back home too, but the thought of leaving Tommy like this just didnât sit well with him. He glanced at the young blonde as he took his time with each bite, noticing how his gaze flicked from Wilbur to him and back to the plate worried as they ate in silence.
So tense, like walking on thin iceâŚ
After finishing pacing himself on breakfast, Tommy had been intercepted by Wilbur.Â
The brunette had taken one look at him and insisted he have a shower, shoving some clean clothes into him and ushered him into the bathroom. Itâs a good thing he knew how taps worked, because understanding how to change water temperature would have been an awful experience had he not.Â
Despite feeling bad about using the Crafts water, Tommy had to admit being able to wash up properly after so long felt wonderfully refreshing. Even seeing his own reflection in the mirror; clean and well-groomed for the first time in years, had him taken aback at how nice his hair and skin looked after a good wash.
The clothes Wilbur had given him had been some old clothes he didnât fit into anymore and had had lying around. A pair of jeans, a basic t-shirt with some humans on it that Tommy didnât recognise and an old blue sweater that was slightly too big on him. It felt odd to wear clothes made with fabrics of such high quality, but he instantly fell in love with the sweater.Â
Now yes, he was aware of how bad his clothes had been. They were basically falling to bits on him, but itâs not like he didnât know that. The Great Tommyinnit knows how to make nice clothes thank you very much.
If anything he was a pro tailor back in the colony, but considering heâd been roaming for weeks at a time carrying only the bare necessities before finally settling in at the crafts; new clothes hadnât been much of a priority. Heâd only really just managed to get his new home to his liking and with all the necessities he would need. New clothing had been next on his to-do list, if the mud-stained and holey garments he wore daily had made any indications of needing them.
He just needed a few days to gather the fabric and thread and heâd have a new wardrobe within the week. But the clothes he made vs the clothes Wilbur had lent him were nothing in comparison to quality! It was all just so soft and silky feeling and Tommy almost never wanted to take any of it off even if it was slightly too big. It wouldnât be hard to adjust the seams on the jeans to make them fit better and the same with the shirt. His trusty handmade needle could make quick work of that.Â
Maybe Wilbur wouldnât mind if he took them home with him?Â
That was, if heâd ever be able to go home.
Tommy still didnât understand how any of this worked and trying to make himself leave the bathroom to âtake him homeâ was not helping.
The curling feeling in his gut telling him to just stay put and hide kept him mulling over the options in his head. But how could he do that after he told Phil he lived near the park? They would expect him to be fine once he left and go back home just like he supposedly wanted.
He turned to face himself in the mirror, stray water droplets dripped down the side of his face from his still-damp hair. The clean, presentable Tommy he saw now, no longer the same dirty, orphan he knew he was. Perhaps if heâd always been like this, heâd never have been kicked out of the colony. He never would have been alienated by those meant to care, never felt so small when it was normal. But now he was big, clean and everything someone might love as a Human Bean and yet he felt so fake hiding behind a false facade.
After all, he was only a Borrower.
The dreaded small feeling came creeping back in and all it took was one glance at the mirror for Tommy to wish he was back to his old self. He shouldnât have put the thought of being loved in his head again. As much as he wanted to, he couldnât bear the thought of the Crafts turning on him should this disguise fall. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he clutched the edge of the sink counter.
He wanted to go home and be small again. Hide away where it was safe from all that was out to get him. Away from this reflection of a boy he didnât recognise. A tingly sensation pricked at his skin as tears began to drip steadily down his cheeks. He was being childish; he knew that, but he didnât care. Why couldnât he just be loved as he was?
Upon opening his eyes to look at the disgrace that was him in the mirror, Tommy found he was no longer staring at himself, but rather at the side of the wooden cabinet- three times smaller than heâd been almost seconds before.Â
Heâd shrunk. Again?
Confusion swept over his mind as he scrubbed at his face. How did this keep happening? One second heâs big and hating his Bean size counterpart, the next heâs smaller and wishingâŚ.
To be smallerâŚ
It suddenly all began to make sense as the puzzle pieces began to slot into place. Every time heâd grown or shrunk, heâd been wishing to change. To be bigger to catch up or smaller to go home. He willed it, and it happened.Â
Did his desire to change trigger the shift of his size?
Tentatively, Tommy stood back from the counter and focused hard. He wanted to be smaller, like his old self. Small enough to fit through the cracks, small enough to hide out of sight, be 3 inches tall again, the only right size. The Tommy size.
The tingling returned, this time all over his body as the blonde focused on changing his shape to be what he envisioned. It was a warm sensation and Tommy thought it was strange how heâd never felt it until now. When the tingling dissipated, Tommy slowly opened his eyes as a small gasp escaped him.
âI shrunk.â He whispered in awe as he took in the now enlarged bathroom. He grabbed at his hands and arms, patting himself down to prove that he indeed had changed with a disbelieving laugh. âIâm me again.âÂ
âHa, Iâm actually me! Oh, thank prime.â Tommy cheered as he hugged himself tight. âI thought Iâd never work this out.â
The familiarity of large objects and tall ceilings finally returned the Borrower's sense of normalcy. How he missed this. He could finally go home, size not restricting him at all and return back to the safety of the walls. Just the walls, his tiny shoebox home and-
Me.
Tommy glanced around the little bathroom. The light green tiles were clearly a design choice by Phil but the fluffy light blue towels were definitely a conscious decision by Wilbur, and youâd never guess the yellow daffodils were put together by Technoblade. Each had their own little way of expressing themselves.
Tommy sighed as he stared at his hands, inspecting them front and back.
So a simple thought was all it took to change size right?Â
Just think big- be big. Simple.Â
Right?
Only a bit of tingling later and Tommy was back to his Bean height. It truly took no effort at all, as if it was second nature to him. Not Borrower nature, but certainly something. Maybe the other Borrowers had always been able to sense that in him. This thing that wasnât quite right was this incredible size-shifting ability that probably no one had ever heard of and he had it. He certainly was no Borrowerer and definitely not a Bean.Â
But no one else knew that.
Tentatively, Tommy reached out and picked up a single Daffodil and twirled it in his hand. Heâd heard Technoblade talking about how there was a whole language of flowers and that each one meant something different when presented to another person. He couldnât remember what a Daffodil meant but, the flower itself brought the happy memories of Crafts to the forefront of his mind.
They didnât know what he was and with this shifting ability sort of figured out, what could stop him from staying? Or at least from getting to know the Crafts better. With something to leave behind, all it would take is to leave a trail back to the Crafts house from the park and he could go and come when he pleased. Heâd be able to walk distances that used to take him days in a matter of minutes with ease and the Crafts would never have to know about where his true place of residence was.
It was a second chance at having a real family, or at least a relationship with someone that didnât immediately hate him. He wouldnât have to leave forever and could come back and actually talk to someone! It may be risky without knowing the full extent of the shifts, but it was a chance and a chance he was willing to take.Â
A knock at the door caused the boy to jump, but thankfully he remained silent this time.Â
âTommy you alright in there?â It was Phil. Bless the old man's heart for his concern. âYouâve been in there awhile and just wanted to check if you were okay?â
âYeah, yeah Iâm alright,â Tommy called back through the door looking around the bathroom for something to enact his hastily thrown together plan. âJust about done. Iâll be out in a minute.â
âOkay, weâll get ready to leave shortly to take you back to the park then, if youâre happy to.âÂ
The blonde finally spotted something suitable for his trail and quickly grabbed a handful of decorative little blue pebbles from the bottom of a vase filled with fake pink camellia flowers and shoved them into his pocket before grabbing his dirty clothes.
âSounds good, big man,â Tommy said as he opened the door to where the taller blonde was standing a little bit away looking minorly concerned.
âLetâs get going.â the boy said with a smile.
This was going to work.Â
He knew it.
 シ ・ďžâ: *. .* シ ・ďžâ : â˝ .* シ ・ďžâ: *. .*
__________________________
YAY! WE FINISHED CHAPTER 4!!! WOOOOO Again I am so sorry this took so long to do. I've been working on it on and off for awhile with little progress and life has just been kicking my butt lately that finishing stuff up sucks. I have made a start on chapter 5 and I do plan to finish this fic, it just may take awhile with current circumstances.
HUGE thank you to @a-xyz-s and @munchkin1156 for beta reading this chapter and grammar issues! You are my heroes TwT.
TAG LIST: @local-squishmallow @brick-a-doodle-do @justarandomsloth @veryfunkycheesecake @munchkin1156 @kayla-crazy-stuffs @da3dm @eiscreme135 @orchid-harmony @the-tiny-lurker @colossal-red @nobodywritingao3 @nata2343 @bad-author777 @crazyfoxgirl10 @guppybubbles @box-beanz
Link to tag list for future tags :3
â¨Thanks for reading! <3â¨
#Just out of reach but never out of sight Au#beckyu writes#beckyu but on ao3#my fic#mcyt gt#mcyt g/t#dsmp gt#dsmp g/t#tiny!tommy#borrower!tommy#sizeshifter!tommy#giant!phil#giant!philza#giant!wilbur#giant!sbi#gt#g/t#giant tiny#g/t writing#gt writing#mcyt gt community#mcyt g/t community
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Lies Behind Locked Doors
And here it is! The very first chapter of my Vuzi fic, am soooo happy to finally be able to post it! If you enjoy the story please let me know, it helps a TON with motivation
A special thanks goes to @i-am-beckyu who beta read and help me to get this thing finally finished <3
You can also read it on AO3!
Chapter 1: Stand-off
Wc: 6.5k
Tw: Canon typical violence, oil = Worker blood, more feral Murder Drones than in canon
Summary: "Outside the reinforced doors of Outpost 3 an unlikely alliance is made between a Worker and a Disassembly Drone. Uzi is an angsty teen left for dead by her colony and V quickly finds out some Worker Drones are more valuable alive than dead. But can an alliance, and maybe something more, build on lies last or is it doomed to end in a massacre?"
One arm flew up in the air, the other followed, oil painted the powdered snow as it had so many times before and pooled at where they landed. A tangled mess of wires followed them suit, and then some bits of metal. Uzi continued her scavenging through a pile of scrap, paying little mind to the bodies- body parts it contained. A gruesome sight but she grew accustomed to it. Besides, it would be worth it, these trash piles usually contained something of value. As long as one wasnât too squeamish to get their hands dirty.
Uzi took in the sight of her black, oil-covered hands, the substance sticking to her fingers oozing its characteristic odor that quickly reached her receptors. Not squeamish, she wasnât, but what would she give for any kind of cloth to wipe them off with. She dove back into the pile, the less time she wasted on hypotheticals the more time sheâd have toâ Oh, look!Â
A circuit board poking out of the pile, she could definitely find a use for one of those! For what she wasnât sure, but they were so hard to come by she would just find a use for it as she went. Thatâs how she preferred to go about things anyway.Â
Uzi bent down to move a piece of scrap sitting atop the circuit board, shoving it aside and reaching for the gadget, she found herself struggling to un-wedge it from the two heavy pieces of metal it was stuck between. Her brows furrowed, she wrapped her fingers around it more firmly, pulled and pulled andâŚÂ
She raised her head in alarm, paused, listened in. Just the eerie silence of lightly falling snow and the rhythmic mechanism of her own motor. She bent down again, focusing on the damned little thing, her fingers were too slippery. Just the eerie silence of lightly falling snow and whooshing of wind.Â
Uzi dashed inside a nearby construction site before she even processed the sound, disappearing into the darkness.
And the source came crashing down with a show, lifting a cloud of snow that hid its body from sight, only spread wings cut through the white curtain, like an angel.Â
She crouched behind a deteriorating concrete wall, peeking out to keep an eye on the thing. Luckily it seemed all its interest was directed towards the junk pile in front of it, more specifically, the pair of arms Uzi pulled out of it moments prior. The machine lifted them up, one after the other, and carelessly crushed the remaining oil contents out into its awaiting mouth. The limbs were far past cold, mostly drained, the drone chewing on one like a hungry wolf chews on a licked clean bone but even that lasted it only a few seconds.
It had a gander on the pile, probably spying out a little something to sink teeth into. Uzi cursed under her breath quietly, she had to get out of here, but that stupid circuit board had her lingering around. Maybe the thing is gonna move on quickly, it's not like there is anything to kill here, this part of town is a dead zone, no sane drone goes out here.
The murder machine stared at the ground between its feet, cocking its head to the side sharply. Its gaze trailed slowly from where it stood in the snow to the construction site, Uzi's eyes followed the trail. Her breathing hitched. The trail she left behind in the snow.Â
Time to go.
Uzi ducked behind the wall. This is fine, this is okay. Just stay behind frozen solid walls because of course these things have thermovision, why would they not have thermovision, right? With their blade-like claws and wings and that syringe-looking all-dissolving thingamajig- Yeah, why not thermovision too!Â
What she was sure to be claws slipping and digging into concrete echoed throughout the site.
As silently as possible Uzi headed in the direction she had left her stuff about half an hour ago. She navigated the bare hallways, only half constructed and never to be finished, until she came to a doorless doorway. She made sure to stay close to the walls, they were her best chance of getting out of here undetected. She peeked her visor out of the doorway and caught a glimpse of her purple backpack right where she left it, just a few meters away.Â
Just as Uzi was to rush from her spot, grab her stuff and get the hell out of there, she hesitated.Â
She listened in, more intently this time, but her audio receptors caught no sound other than the wind outside. Nothing akin to the noises of a Murder Drone on the hunt. Had it simply moved on or given up already? That wasn't right.
In a moment of contemplation Uziâs gaze trails upwards, just a force of habit far too many have pointed out to her before. Her eyes hollow out and her motor skips a beat when she catches a glimpse of yellow, and that glimpse turns into a very clear silhouette. Itâs almost perfectly still, hanging from the ceiling, five bright lights sit like a crown atop a wide glowing cross and another, equally as bright light, orbiting it like planets do around the sun. It would be a lie to claim the sight didnât fascinate her, like the lure of an anglerfish, but only momentarily, before the survival drive caught up. That second of allure was gone and got replaced by fear at the realization this oil-thirsty thing was prowling just above Uziâs stuff.Â
Instead of hunting for her, wasting energy, it was waiting for her to come to it, straight into its grasp, and it knew she wouldâ she would have, werenât it for that dumb habit she would have waddled her way right in there without a second thought. Why would she ever think to check, she knew what these things were capable of and yet she never considered, it never crossed her mind.Â
What hadnât crossed her mind either was the elevated position giving the Disassembly Drone a certain advantage when it came to field of vision, although it couldnât see far into hallways, it was perfectly aware of its surroundings and every single entry point into the hall, unlike her.Â
She failed to notice the yellow cross snapping to her softly glowing purple optics the second she stuck her visor into that doorway, disappointing.Â
Uzi took a step back, then another, trying to swiftly but silently back the hell out of there upon having realized her own murder plan, all her stuff be damned. The murder machine could choke on it for all she cares, thatâs the only dinner it's going to get today. And she managed to do just that, when about half way the narrow hallway she came from, her fast paced crouch turned into a mad dash. Still trying her best to mind any debris and deteriorating scrap on the floor so as to not make any noise that would alert to her position was sharp-witted, but ultimately pointless. Although she may not be fully aware, the hunt is on.Â
She leaps out of the building like a doe, with little time to think where to go next Uzi heads the most obvious route, straight ahead across the snow covered street and right for the buildings on the other side, too predictable.
If she can just get there they are sure to provide her some shelter, a sense of safety, to at least prolong the unfair game of hide and seek. But she never gets a chance to reach them.
Like a meteor, the Murder Drone comes crashing from the sky in front of Uzi blocking her escape route. She tries to get use of the snow cloud that momentarily blinds both drones by changing direction, but having lost all of her momentum while trying not to literally crash into her pursuer makes it a very clumsy attempt at best and one that almost results in her tripping over her own foot. She stumbles and the little distance she manages to get is crossed in a second and this time the crash is inevitable. It weaponizes its speed and weight to send her flying through the air.Â
Before Uzi can register any pain from the collision she hits the frozen ground with a surprised groan.
She lays disoriented on her side, clutching at her midsection, itâs not where the blow landed but it feels like all the pain from around her body came sending sparks of electricity to this very spot, overheating and burning the area with such caliber she canât be sure how much of it is just phantom pain and how much is reopening of not yet healed wounds. She drags her legs closer to her body to protect it from a blow she dreads coming, get up.
Uzi tries, tries to stand up on her feet but is too slow and out of it to avoid the next hit coming. Claws tear at her arm leaving behind a nasty trail of black, what are you waiting for.
She hisses through gritted teeth and despite the pain is quick to retaliate. She kicks at the Disassembler multiple times aiming at the peg legs in hopes of getting it off balance and down on the ground, one of her kicks almost meets with the slashing blade claws of the drone towering over her. But she is relentless and gets a good kick in, the hunter stumbles backwards and Uzi has enough time to recover and regain her footing.
Never look back.Â
But Uzi does, she turns on her heels to face her attacker. Just momentarily to reassess the situation, get a good sense of what she's dealing with and maybe attempt to fight back once more. Grave mistake.Â
The second she does she's met with an X shining as bright as the midnight sun, reflecting off of her visor and piercing her like thousands of daggersâ like the blade wings, each catching a hint of the yellow glow, warping it and distorting it in unimaginable ways, creating a complex array of light that burns a hole of terror into her core.
It's an empty second, no movement, no life, just stale existence. It lasts an eternity.Â
The Disassembler's knees lower to the ground as it crouches, getting into striking position. One last chance, Worker.Â
Move.
But Uzi doesn't.
The Disassembler shoots like a bullet and hits with the same amount of force and precision easily tackling the much shorter drone to the ground with its whole body.
The motion rips Uzi out of the blank, fear overridden state and boots up whatever sense of self-preservation that was involuntarily programmed into her. Even with the weight of the other drone pinning her down Uzi still puts up a good fight, wrestling with one of the drones arms and successfully, with the help of both of her oil-stained hands, overpowering the claws hovering over her core. That victory is only short-lived. One peg leg is enough to crush Uziâs right hand to the floor and hard as she tries she cannot yank it from under it.Â
Uzi grits her teeth, she pushes at the other drones shoulder with her weaker, oil-gashing arm, miraculously she manages to further the distance between her and her attacker but her forearm is forced over her head and quickly joins the other in powdered snow. In panic she twists and turns, squirms and kicks at nothing but snow under her boots and the drone laughs at her, viciously. One knee is enough to immobilize the poor flailing Worker Drone for good. And she's forced to watch how the Disassembly Drone's claws flex and glisten and close in and blades press heavily against her neck andâÂ
âAnd you're dead.â The Disassembly Drone deadpans, her claws making a mock slashing motion over Uzi's neck.Â
An equally bright timer appears on her visor, replacing the eerie X that adorned it a moment prior. It reads 0h 03m23s19ms.Â
Her restraints let go at once as does the weight pushing her deep into snow, Uzi sits herself up with strained limbs, wincing as pain spikes, familiar old and fresh new, travel through her body.
âThree minutes and twenty seconds,â the Disassembler reads out loud, far too busy fixing loose strands of hair covering her face to further acknowledge Uzi. âThat's your new record. Fifteen seconds better than last time,â she puts one strand under the other.
Uzi groans. âTwenty three seconds.âÂ
The Disassembler hums while checking all her six claws one by one as if deciding whether they need sharpening or not. âNo, I gave you a three second head start.â She finds the latter three a lot more interesting, her eyes hollowing.Â
They are covered in oil.Â
âOh yeah, when exactly?â Uzi retorts, she fought for those three seconds and she will fight for them again.Â
âAf-tah yuh sa-wh me,â she mumbles, finding it hard to articulate with claws in her mouth.Â
Uzi's visor contorts in disgust. âHave some common decency, V!âÂ
V reluctantly pulls the claws out of her mouth, like she is genuinely offended. âWhat? Hey! I could be out hunting right now,â she goes back to licking the oil again, though this time she doesn't end up shoving them into her mouth like a feral animal. âConsider thisâ an appetizer.âÂ
âYou'd wish,â Uzi huffs and crosses her arms, at least she tries to, but sharp pain coming from her arms makes her recoil with a hiss. Only now as she's looking at the three distinct gashes in her arm do the dots properly connect, adding to the disgust and frustration that make her insides twist. The sound doesn't escape V.Â
Uzi pokes at the wound with her finger, wet, oozing oil, quickly coating it, it's still coming out with no sign of stopping any time soon. V is staring her down intently. It's not bad, very far from anything inner circuit damaging, but it sure stings like hell.
âWas this really necessary?â She waves off the oil covered finger, black droplets staining pure snow.Â
âYes.â V nods resolutely, then adds, âwhat's a little game with no stakes at risk,â she switches her now clean claws back to normal drone hands.
âBut how am I supposed to ever get better if you just make me worse for wear every single time!â Uzi pouts, totally not like a child, but like a grown adult who's got a point.
âLook, you wanted this to be,â V air quotes ââauthenticâ, whatever the hell is that even supposed to mean.â
âIt can be without you having to dismantle me every time!â The Worker half shouts.
V stares at the Worker Drone with an unimpressed blank stare. How over-dramatic. She thought to herself, it wasn't even like what she was saying was true- not like she did it every single time. Just a lot. And it's not like hurting the Worker was necessarily her intention, she always gave her a choice, enough time to act, and she either would, or she wouldn't and she'd remember well to next time. That was Vâs teaching method. Consequences. Don't do as you were told and you'll have a scar to remind you of your mistake. A bit brutal? Maybe, but better than being eaten alive.Â
And if this was what this whole thing was about, at least what the Worker claimed it was, to not get murdered by the fir- second Disassembly Drone she happens to cross paths with, then by all means, this was the best method.Â
You have to find out the running stove is hot once in your life to never try touching it again.
Uzi turns her back on the Murder Drone in a child-like display of resentment. âHurts like a bitch, how fitting,â she barks.
The moment she does the distance separating the two drones turns to dozens of inches, there are shivers running down her back alerting her to the sudden presence behind her and she turns around with lightning speed and a flinch.Â
Never turn your back on a Disassembly drone. V recites one of her own rules in her head with a chuckle, she straightens her posture, towering high above the Worker with a sly fox smile that Uzi came to associate with nothing short of malicious intent.
âYou've lost. Those,â V points at the three distinct claw marks decorating her arm, âare the consequences.â She speaks matter of factly and leaves little room for any further complaining. That, of course, wouldn't stop Uzi from opening her mouth but the taller Drone quickly shuts her up again. âBut, I will give you one thing.â Uzi doesn't fail to notice how the corners of her mouth curl. âAll this- training,â V stalks in even closer.
âUh-â Is all that Uzi manages to utter before her wrist gets roughly grabbed and squeezed in the other drones hand.
âIs such a waste,â she forces the Worker's arm closer with ease.
âHey! Whaââ Uzi attempts to pull the limb back.Â
The Disassemblerâs mouth parts, revealing her sharp fangs in an unnaturally wide, deranged smile. âOf precious oil,â
In that moment Uzi yanks back hard, almost toppling back into snow she's still sitting in when her wrist escapes the hungry grasp crushing it. âNo! Absolutely not! Eeew, that's so-that's so disgusting!â she yells, pulling her arm back and holding it close to her chassis protectively, oil staining her clothes be damned. âYou are never getting toâ,â she scrambles for words, disgust having clogged her throat.
âTo enjoy your sweet, sticky oil, straight from the source?â V finishes for her happily in a sickly sweet voice.
âBleh! Never!â Uzi growls, dragging her legs to curl on herself like she is trying to subconsciously hide the wound from her attacker.Â
V huffs amusedly. âYou are such a coward.âÂ
That comment has Uzi taken aback, for a moment she just stares incredulously.Â
And that only makes V double-down. âYou heard me, a little coward of a Worker Drone, hiding behind daddy's precious heavy metal doors her entire life because she is too scared a big bad Murder Drone is gonna come and eat her alive.â
Uzi glared daggers at V, as if that was going to make that smug, arrogant, bipolar, insufferable and all around shootable drone shut up and not just prompt her to keep on pushing Uzi's buttons. And she knew she shouldn't let any of it get to her, to get a reaction out of her was exactly what the other wanted, but the way she stoodâ one hand on her hip, side-stepping, towering over her, looking at her with challenge burning in those yellow glowing eyes... Uzi clenches her jaw.
V sneers, content with having put the purple-haired drone down a notch, she'd always happily remind her just where she stands next to her and that, at the end of the day, V herself is only doing all of this for her own gain. The lack of any further arguing is like music to her audio receptors. She turns around, fully content with declaring another petty battle as won, adding one more tally up mark to her win streak.Â
But as she begins to walk offâŚÂ
âDo it then.â
V's satisfied grin falters ever so slightly.Â
âBite me!â For once she means it literally, there's weird unrequired determination fueling Uzi's words, but it doesn't make her sound any confident. Not to the sensitive sensors of the taller.
V simply laughs at her. It's all she has to do to completely shatter the already hastily put together pieces of fake confidence Uzi spent so much effort trying to muster at the last minute.
âYou are hilarious,â V snickers, venom on her tongue.Â
And Uzi wants to snap back so badly but she has nothing left to say in her, she is just waiting for V to take a bite of the lure she suddenly seems to have no interest in. And as thankful as she should be for that in reality it only leaves her agitated further.
âNo, really, you are funny. I'd say you have some bolts in youâ but I see your palms are heating up, nervous?â She flashes that challenging toothy grin of hers again.
A bright purple anger symbol appears on the top of Uzi's visor. âScrew you and your stupidly convenient infrared light glowing orb things!â
âPfft, you should see your face right now.âÂ
Uzi crosses her arms, this time mindful of her new wound to not accidentally touch where it's sore, and huffs, clearly she's not getting anywhere with her baitless hook, the Disassembler will seemingly do anything to spite her. Uzi sighs. âQuite the chatterbox today, ey? Let me guess, you committed mass murder.â
V hums proudly, âAnd very successfully.â
The only thing that can make a Murder Drone happy apparently. And in V's case happy meant unnecessarily vocal and downright insufferable⌠but also nicer, evident in the distinct lack of name-calling and death-threats. Better to stay on that side of her. Just⌠in case.
âThose âglowing orb thingsâ do come quite in handy,â she simply shrugs, pride evident in her tone and posture.
Right, and are a nasty game changing surprise for any drone unfamiliar with them, to any drone besides her if she had to guess. âItâs cheating,â Uzi rolls her eyes. One moment they are used to hunt for her hiding in the frozen concrete wasteland as part of their, Uzi sighs and groans internally, deal, and another purely just to spite her and poke fun at her. And somehow, the combination of genocide and mockery just spoke V to her.Â
V swings her tail behind her, low and unthreatening but still catching Uziâs attention, âC'mon, do you want your Murder assessment or not?â The question is impatient but sounds oddly genuine, there is no bite behind it.Â
Uzi nods, âright.â
âLet's review,â V suggests, touching the side of her visor where silver strands meet their reflection. She's going through her memory banks and playing over whatever she recorded of their encounter, Uzi can tell from that yard long stare and lack of movement from her optics. She stares too, just in a different direction, by now she knows V won't show her anything anyway. Something about ânot wanting you in my head' or whatever.Â
She'd have to get close to the Disassembler anyway and, although she didn't feel like she would just randomly get offed anymore, she was still on edge in its presence and would much rather prefer to keep the meter or so separating the two drones. Better to keep her distance, just safety measures.
âYour hiding skills are downright abysmal,â V interrupts that train of thought with a compliment.Â
âHey! At least I heard you coming! Itâs not like you noticed me either,â Uzi objects, recalling the whooshing of wind, a sound similar to racing wind currents, but not quite right, it's an odd whirring noise that barely overpowers the raging storm but when it does it's unmistakably mechanical.Â
âSpectacular and wrong. I expect you to stay alive âtill I at least manage to start the timer,â V's finger lingers on her screen. âSpeaking offâŚâ she trails off, and for the first time that night there is a noticeable hiss behind her words.
Uh oh. Uzi winces, attempting a small sheepish smile.
âEnlighten me, Worker, how the hell do you not notice you left a trail in the snow! And it's leading straight to you!â Oh, she is livid now, her tail lashes from side by side behind her and that display has Uzi scooting away, her eyes hollowing. So much damn time wasted on this scrawny defective runt and she would get herself murdered, just like that! Any Disassembly drone wouldâve found her and swiped her head off clean with one lazy swipe!
Uzi casts her glance downwards, playing with the zipper of her jacket awkwardly to avoid eye contact. âAha-hah, yeaaahâŚthat, not my proudest survival moment,â she mumbles.
V casts her an ugly glare and without having to speak a single syllable Uzi shrinks further on herself. âOkay! okay! I screwed up that one bad, deathly bad, I admit it⌠But you have to admit I at least fought well!âÂ
V facepalms and growls. âYou're not supposed to fight me! Fighting is what gets your limbs ripped to shreds, singular in your case, and torn from your still twitching body.â But that growl is quickly replaced with something more sinister. âEver seen limbless bodies crawl away?...â She waits for an answer, then continues. âI have. Crazy to think how far a single uselessly turning joint can get you.â
âDo you think any of them got away?â the murder bot questions, ceasing the movement of her tail and letting it rest low to the ground.
Uzi doesn't answer that, not verbally but her shoulders do noticeably slump. Finally she shakes her head weakly.
V smiles down at her. âYeah,â she breathes out.
Uzi chews at the soft synthetic plastic that makes her lower lip nervously. âAny other compliments?â She asks sarcastically, but it's a lot more timid than it is normally.
V sighs, surprisingly her threatening aura seems to soften just a little, âYou weren't an obnoxious red smudge on my visor the entire time⌠and didnât fall for that old ceiling trick, eh, not completely, that's an improvement,â she huffs.
The Worker Drone was left staring puzzled, she had seen mood swings in her life before, she was a teenager surrounded by dozens of other teenagers for Robo-Christ sake, but how the Disassembler went from rather casual to a death-thirsty, ill-intended bully and back in the matter of a few sentences was beyond her. She wondered whether this was what being a heartless killer came with, unpredictable spikes of malice and need for oilshed, or if this was something else occasionally showing up with the root cause going much deeper than the surface she could see.
âGet up,â V prompts her, for once it doesn't sound like a direct command and that's partially why Uzi finds herself slowly rising to her feet. It's not a steady climb, more like going up an unsteady ladder threatening to topple over at any moment with one arm held close, trying not to hoist the damaged insides under her relatively repaired stomach plating.Â
Yellow light reflects off her visor, V is following her movements intently and although she doesn't offer any help, not that Uzi needs it, she does move out of Uzi's way, giving her more space to balance herself upright at her own speed.
Those healing nanites are taking their sweet time.Â
When up on her feet, the Worker dusts herself off from the snow sticking to her clothes and adjusts her beanie with care. She's about to speak again when a large blade wing steals the air from her fans.Â
With a single swift motion from the pair the Disassembler takes off high into air.Â
âWait! Whereâ?â By then it's pointless, her words reach nothing but the surrounding buildings, she is gone so fast it's hard to tell which direction she even went.
Uzi stands there for a bit, looking up at the skyâŚÂ
Then she kicks snow with her boot, waiting, standing aroundâŚ
And finally she silently marches off back the direction of the scrap pile.
She crouches down, one foot in the pile shoving off something claiming the gadget as its own and refusing to let go of it, while her hands pull with newfound strength until it all finally lets go, the circuit board in her hand.
She looks it over, then pockets it.
Cool.Â
Whatever.
Uzi stands idly in heel-high snow, looking up at the night sky where tethered clouds allow her. The thought of going âhomeâ crosses her mind repeatedly but she cannot will her legs to move. Home isnât the place she came to associate the word with anymore, although it never was a particularly pleasant destination nowâ well, solitude does a lot to a drone. Oh, there it is again, that cold pang in her chassis.. and the prickly burning in her optics too. She shakes her head, readjusting her beanie. And the feeling is gone just as quickly as it came. The barren wasteland of ice is quiet again. Just the eerie silence of lightly falling snow and whooshing of windâŚ
Uzi spins around 180 degrees like a viper and doesn't miss the cloud of snow lifting off just a few feet away from her. Relief immediately floods her jumpstarted circuits like a coolant when instead of a death-bringing X she is met with a pair of perfectly normal drone eyes.Â
âV!â she calls out.
âYou left this back there,â V gestures nonchalantly to the purple bat-winged backpack she's dangling on one finger like she didn't just burn through her oil reserves to get it. Even now hearing a Worker call out for her by her name feelsâ weird. It's not a cry of terror or anything akin either and that isâ it doesn't feel right, she shifts her stance, suddenly finding herself back on that awkward middle ground she despises so much. She has half a mind to tell the Toaster to quit calling her, especially by her name, but then she'd be undoubtedly flooded with questions she doesn't want to delve into. Not now, not ever if she can help it. So she keeps shut, shaking off that odd feeling that rests on her shoulders.
âI was going to get it,â Uzi deadpans, no way is she leaving days worth of scavenging behind, unless it involves her becoming a corpse for someone else to scavenge from in the process.
âSure. Your breakneck speed was making my joints freeze over, had to warm them up a bit,â she flexes the joins of her wings, fanning them out a couple of times with audible clangs of metal against metal.Â
A cheeky smile catches Uzi off guard. âThink fast!âÂ
But not as much as the weight of all her precious loot crashing into her arms with such force she barely manages to keep her footing, stumbling for a bit before getting a firm grip on the thing. âHghhâ thanks,â she huffs under the weight.Â
V smirks. âNot bad.âÂ
âI know,â Uzi regains her attitude with her balance. âI have reflexes for days, thank you.âÂ
Vâs wings fold back behind her as she rolls her optics. âMore like three minutes and twenty seconds.âÂ
âTwenty three,â Uzi corrects, lifting her index finger.
âDrop it,â V growls lowly.
âNever!â Uzi stomps her foot.
And she earns a stern genuinely tired look from V.
Uzi clears her throat, switching her pose to a less maniacal one while feeling the awkward silence falling between the two drones again. âSooooo what do I doâ better?âÂ
Now that was the million dollar question that plagued Uzi's mind as much as it, begrudgingly, plagued Vâs. How do you survive your own planned disassembly, or at least, how does one buy more time? Prior to all of this, it was something that never would've crossed Vâs mind, she would rarely ever worry about death although it came for her every twelve hours, when the night sky paled in fear of the single blazing star. And what would she do then? She would hide. Easy as that. Find safety in an old building or the mass drone graveyard she called home and recharge peacefully where the fire demon couldn't get her. Workers caught up to that tactic, they hid too, just from their own demons and only came out when Disassemblers couldn't, if ever. That's why everyone in this Workers colony still lived, including her.Â
But this freak of a Worker didn't have that luxury anymore, she couldn't hide away and live a lazy, cowardly life in some fortified bunker. She survived by staying under the radar, like a mouse in a mansion. You know it's there, but where? Behind sturdy walls, no hope of ever busting them down. If this all proved anything, it's that no Worker can survive an encounter with V, which is something sheâd pride herself in normally, but currently was draining her battery.
Finally V sighed watching the purple haired drone adjust the straps of her backpack firmly on her shoulders. âIf you want to live, you gotta be unpredictable. If I can predict your next move, I'll chop your foot off before you make it. Abort the Worker Drone pathfinding.â
Oh right, that shouldn't be hard at all, abort the code programmed into her circuits since manufacture and become some rogue ai, more rogue than Worker Drones already were, sounds just easy enough! âAnd how am Iââ
âNever head straight. Never let your intentions show. And never let anyone know what you are thinking,â V cites the three new ânever-eversâ to be added to the ever adding list, a couple of new sticky notes to decorate the walls of Uzi's new living compartment. What colors shall these be? She makes a mental note of them for now. They are important, every bit of information is crucial, but currently, they fall flat on their face. âAnd work on your hiding, seriously, you're making yourself look embarrassing.â
Uzi knits her digital eyebrows together. âIs that all you have?â
V shrugs. âWhat do you expect? I hunt, I don't cower. Honestly, you should just come for murder tips instead,â she giggles and Uzi can't tell if it sounds playful or threatening. âI'd help you dispose of the body.âÂ
âWhat an irresistible offer,â Uzi deadpans, she may know a few drones deserving of an unceremonious end but⌠there are other, more creative methods that would allow her to keep her hands clean.
V sighs, admittedly she will have to think of something. If she wants this drone to live, which she supposes she does, some things will have to change because this is barely getting them anywhere. Hopefully she can come up with something when she gets back to the Spire for the day.Â
Speaking ofâŚ
The Murder Drone displays her claws for the final time that night, the razor edges reflect moonlight up to where they sit lodged in the concrete of a nearby decrepit building. The blades slice through the construction like it's made of butter and she makes a swift climb up. How fast? Uzi tries to calculate, but can't manage to, before she begins a stopwatch of her own the drone already sits perched atop, surveying the area. If she had to make an educated guess, it could scale vertical surfaces about as fast as she could cross horizontal ones. So very fast.
V scans around the area, switching through different modes of her optics to detect any organic movement or signs of nearby life. No other heat signals than hers and the purple Workerâs which immediately jumpstarts lines of code in her programming, readying her for action, before she just as quickly shuts them off. Not this one. She reminds it and her code reluctantly obeys. For now.
She eyes the street carefully just to double-check, less worried about Workers eavesdropping on their little conversation and more interested in filling her almost full oil reserves to maximum capacity, but there is no one.Â
From the height she spots a little mechanical creature skittering around not far from the Workers legs, but the finger sized keybug isn't worth the drop, even if they make good snacks. âYou're leaving,â comes from down below and their optics meet, it's more of a statement than a question.
V cocks her head to the side, her silver bangs sliding off the sides of her visor and partially obstructing her vision. ��Obviously.âÂ
She watches the purple droneâs posture change at her response, one hand holding onto her elbow while her gaze trails off to look at nothing on the ground. Whether it's nervousness from V staring her down like a hawk or just feeling at the damaged arm that's still oozing that sickly sweet scent of oil that won't quit flooding Vâs mouth, she can't tell.Â
âWhen can we do this again? Uh, like training to survive my own murder and stuff I meanââ Uzi's voice gets more mumbly as she goes on.
âMeet me at midnight by the old tower crane,â V thumbs down a long narrow street to give a general direction, although a giant crane is pretty impossible to miss, at least while flying above the city. âIf I don't show up, don't wait for me.â Last thing she needs is for the Worker to become a sitting duck out in the open.
Uzi lets her hand slide off of her arm. âAlright, notedâ She nods resolutely, not sure if the Murder Drone can even see it from that far. âMidnight, by the crane, got it!â With her precious loot secured on her back, Uzi is ready to walk off when the by now too familiar voice stops her dead in her tracks.
âOh, and, Toaster?âÂ
Uzi stops, and V eyes her down from the roof, eyes suddenly alight with newfound interest. âHowâs Door 2 doing?â They shine so bright they might just burn a hole straight through the Worker.
âShut, locked, frozen solid, as dull as ever,â Uzi lists drily, then grumbles. âThe whole of Outpost 3 is like a fortress, I've checked around the whole perimeter. Unless you have some murder-tech that can bust down the metal walls, there's no way to get in.â
âHah, yeah, you tell us that,â V waves her hand off.Â
Us? Uzi perks up internally. Who is us? Murder drones always operate alone in separate districts, they are programmed to stick to their designated hunting routes and stay far from other Murder Drones for maximum efficiency, arenât they? Murder Drones will kill rogue Murder Drones that stray from the programming. This very Murder Drone claimed as much⌠Uzi's digital brows furrow, just a general statement or slip of the tongue? Maybe both. Interestingâ add that to the ever piling pile of questions on sticky notes that decorated the walls of her home and mind.
âButââ V continues in a sickly sweet voice, âI am sure a little keybug like you can find a way in, right?â she cocks her head sharply.
âI am working on it,â Uzi replies, not wanting to elaborate on the bitter matter any further. She will find a way back in.
The Murder Drone giggles, for a moment it looks as though she's contemplating something before simply smiling with her fangs on display. âIâll be watching you.âÂ
And just as suddenly as she appeared she is gone. With one beat of her giant metal wings.
And that leaves Uzi all alone in the world again.Â
She feels the cold creeping to her core, it's a familiar feeling, the internal chill, her system will soon start sending low temperature warnings to get her on the move and avoid her joints freezing over. She sighs, the warm air from her vents creating a small puff of steam in front of her mouth. She spares the now lonely roof one last glance and a small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.
âI'll be seeing you around too, V.â
#murder drones#murder drones fanfic#md fanfic#murder drones au#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#murder drones uzi#uzi doorman#murder drones v#serial designation v#vuzi#v x uzi#regretfully writing
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Fanart for You Donât Know How Much I Care by silly_guy_tendencies on ao3!! I think this one turned out pretty good :D
Taglist under cut:
@i-am-beckyu , @brick-a-doodle-do , @da3dm , @faeiyn-cant-write , @boiled-ginger-ale
If you want to be added to the tag list, tell me!
#munchkin does art#Hotguy#Cuteguy#Grian#Goodtimeswithscar#grian fanart#cuteguy fanart#gtws fanart#gtwscar#hotguy fanart#wow weâre really posting a lot lately huh#lotta art
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In the deep blue sea, there isn't a place for me
â
Yeah I got that title from the same thing sloth sent brick...but I changed it a bit! Here's the result of that mystery poll from beforeâSloth kinda half helped with editing this...this is a oneshot with two parts to it bc it'll be super long otherwise and then brick would never read it
It feels rushed to me but maybe not to you guys! Also my askbox is always open
Taglist: @brick-a-doodle-do , @i-am-beckyu , @justarandomsloth , @awkwardgtace , @rosewriting-ao3 (and look rose, gentle giant!!)
If you want tagged you gotta tell me or I can't
TW: Unintentional fearplay, character believing they'll die, begging to die (won't die), blood, mild cursing there's like one curse word bc Irza is Irza, character thinking they might be eaten, mention of suicide. (If there's more please tell me)
Word Count: 4.3k
Part 1/2
Well, this was by far not how he expected his day to go, but...he never did like boring things. But maybe even this was a little too far a stretch to be seen as boredom relief. His time would've been better spent not getting in this situation. Honestly, the last thing he remembered was the pod of mer he lived with outcasting him by using a prank. He was brought out to the middle of nowhere and ditched. With that sort of result he didn't even bother trying to returnâŚhe'd had enough and been planning to leave soon anyway. Seeing as he didn't have any possessions, he simply swam away.
Then everything had started to darken. It hadn't been too concerning because looking aroundâŚthere really wasn't anything there. No predators. So he continued on his way to the shore, hoping to travel through the shallows to find a new home rather than the open ocean. Only a pod could somewhat safely be in the open like this, not a lone mer. It hadn't been too long after until he discovered the water was shoving him around strangely. Lightly, at first. Then it quickly started to increase and his panic rose rapidly. If only he'd noticed that the oncoming darkness was the omen of a storm.
It swept him away helplessly, flailing through the water like a loose piece of kelp. He could faintly recall that it pushed him roughly in the direction of shore, yet another thing only making the water's abuse even worse. It was fully expected that the water's torrent would smash his rather frail body into the rocks lining the edges. Leave him stranded in a tidepool where he'd be picked at by predators. Maybe bury him in the sand where he'd have no hope of escape. It was at that point he'd crashed into something big and smooth, with a lot of clattering sounds all around him. Then it had gone black, the impact too much to withstand.
And that brings him to now. The sun was hot on his exposed skin, the water level steadily getting lower, and hotter. It felt like he was being boiled alive. He was trapped inside something. Something clear, that shifted and crinkled when he moved, and was rather uncomfortable. Sure, it had probably saved him from outright dying, but now he was too far from the water to even attempt tipping the thing over to escape. This was a rather precarious situation to find himself in. After waking up in here it had looked to be sunrise and the container was half fullâŚbut now the sun was directly above him, beating down on his vulnerable form while the water was so low he couldn't even fully submerge.
While half his body was in the water, he shifted around to try and rearrange a few more times and only got the same results each time. It was hopeless, so he worked on keeping his tail in the water as much as possible, refusing to believe he'd simply die here. There had to be a way out, even if that meant waiting for night to fall, when the tide would be higher. He might be out of water by then, butâŚit was likely his only chance of survival. Being out on the sand in the hot sun would both cook him and let his predators see he was there. That would be his end right then and there with how far he was. He may want out, but he wasn't suicidal.
Trying to think of what to do, more time was passing and the water was getting lower. It was maybe an hour or two later of him attempting to figure out freedom when there was a change. He was noticing that it was a little cooler, sparing him of losing all of the water, but that wasn't all. There was a new tremor motion the water reacted to. He blinked at the tiny, extra ripples his body wasn't causing. The ripples stayed that way but soon he realized they were getting bigger. Not long after, it came to his attention that he could feel a vibration traveling from the ground through the rest of his body. A rising dread filled him and he scrambled to try and see, holding himself up.
He couldn't see anything. WellâŚto be fair it looked like he was in a ditch, it'd be hard to see anywhere from this angle. The vibration stopped and he held his breath. Nothing. Was it gone? In his distraction however, he failed to notice that all his movement had drawn something after him. All of a sudden something crashed into his prison and he barely avoided calling out, biting his tongue and flailing for balance. He looked up in a hurry to face his attacker and froze. A bird. What even was this thing?? It was white but he didn't recognize it from the usual pelicans he'd seen where he used to live. Still, it was eyeing him like a new meal.
Stopping to wonder what it was might not have been his brightest idea as it was now sticking its beak inside the small opening, wings flapping wildly. The webbed feet pushed at the clear walls as he hurriedly pushed himself down, away from the threatening beak. He bared his teeth uselessly, but it made him feel a lot better. Truthfully all the motion was sickening and too chaotic to make right from left. It even made a loud, overbearing sound that made his head ring painfully. The noise echoed in this small space way too much and he slapped his hands over his ears reflexively. This was too much for him. He hadn't even started to escape yetâŚand he was being attacked.
Then the vibration from earlier came to his attention, much heavier than before. It made him bounce in place and even the bird reacted, looking at the cause and calling out again. Before much else happened, a new sound came to him, sounding like words, but way too loud to be words. It made the space around him shudder and the bird had left. He had to breathe for a moment before he even dared look up, bracing himself against the slick walls and gazing up just as a new shadow fell right before his clear cage. In some ways he'd wished he'd never looked up.
The owner of the massive shadow was just as huge, towering over him in a way he'd never seen before. His mind immediately supplied the word human. He'd been told about them, seen them from a distanceâŚhe knew they were bigger, but not like this. Why would he get stuck on the beach and run into one of them?! Did the world really hate him that much?! Unfair! Not to mention, humans were supposed to stay away from the area he'd been heading for. Had he really been swept so far off his intended path?? Anything was possible at his size in a storm that nasty, but going from stormy waters, to a bird, to a human, wasn't even bad luck. That's like an outright curse.
His thoughts were cut short when the giant being took a step closer to him, shaking the entire space and making him scramble to prevent faceplanting. It was coming closer. His dread didn't have time to build up before a hand came rushing towards his trap, one way too big for what seemed natural. Though he clawed at the smooth surface surrounding him, it was hopeless, the hand closing around it. He shuddered at the realization the hand went all the way around the bottleâŚhe could see the fingers nearly connect. That was to sayâŚhe forgot what would happen when it's being grabbed.
Not even a second later, he was hoisted off the ground, making his stomach do a wild flip while he forced himself to stay calm. What if it wanted him to be scared? But when the space was tilted and the water began to flow away from him, he gave an involuntary yelp of surprise and looked around frantically. The tilt suddenly stopped and it went back to how it had been before, the water returning. This time when looking at the human, he found bright green, huge eyes that were both locked right on him. He fought back a shiver, meeting that, admittedly, intimidating gaze. The eyes widened and he froze up.
Way too dizzying fast, he was racing skyward, stopping only once level with the way too big face. Out of pure instinct he bared his teeth with a growl, pushing himself back against the opposite side. He pointedly ignored that the hand was on that side of it and that he could feel the warmth it gave off from inside. Except when he growled, he noticed a responding movement from above and his eyes snapped to it, only to go stiff and regret showing aggression. Those weren't the right ears. They were like triangles and kept swiveling around. Listening, he thought. He suppressed another shudder, instead choosing to glare at this giant and those horribly observant eyes.
He knew he was being stared at, his every move kept track of, but he was trying to wrack his brain for why those ears and unnerving eyes were familiar to him. There wasn't much time to think as that loud sound came at him againâthe voice. Definitely a voice. He ignored the words. They were too distorted and loud to understand while stuck inside this thing anyway. Besides, he didn't want to hear the taunts or what it might be planning to do to him. He'd rather seem boring and be tossed back to the ground and ignored.
Except those eyes changed and almost lookedâŚworried? He scowled at it, but the voice returned and everything was turning sideways at an agonizingly slow pace. His slow slide felt like torture, especially with how fast the water was already pouring past him, tugging him along faster than it was tipping. At this point all he could do was weakly scratch at it, feeling like he was being played with on his way towards the only opening. The last thing he tried was spreading his arms too wide to fit while trying to turn to keep his tail inside. If it fell out, the weight would just drag him down.
When he hit the opening he stuck, just as intended. A grim, victory smile plastered on his face as he fought to keep himself in this same position while looking to the side at the human. What he found was a look of surprise, but nothing happened. It was held in the same position, not moving even slightly. He thought he'd be shaken or something, but it never came. Instead, the voice came again, still not understandable from his position. It got quiet and motionless, as if the human was just waiting for him to change his mind or something. Not happening! That was when he noticed he was slipping. The giant jerk was waiting him out.
He growled in real anger at being treated this way, noticing those creepy ears moving as he made the sound. All he could see in those big eyes, was patience. A steady, calm, patience. Like this human already knew they'd win this. And they would, which only upset him even more. The problem was that he was still slipping, and steadily feeling like he needed to catch himself. Was he just going to fall to his death or what? Was the human dumping him out of the way? It was hard to say, but he was about to find out for himself. There wasn't even a shred of hope in his mind of holding on for longer than the human could waitâŚthe surface and angle were simply too much and only half his body could be used to prevent it.
With one last squirm in an attempt to stay inside, he finally couldn't stay splayed anymore and fell headfirst out of the thing. His eyes screwed shut, certain he would plummet to his deathâŚonly for the result to be much less dramatic. The impact was muted, interrupted maybe only a second later by something soft that smelled heavily of herbs. For a moment all he could do was breathe, his heart racing painfully as his chest heaved from the scare. He didn't waste much time and after only a few breaths, he moved to figure out what exactly happened. Seeing it made him freeze up, his eyes landing on the tan colored, patterned floor beneath him. Skin.
Looking up while already know what would be there, his almost weary gaze trailed up the length of an arm all the way to the human's face. He was in the damn thing's hand. He inwardly groaned and pushed himself up while taking a deep breath, glancing at the fingers towering over him. A threat. It was mostly behind him and he let his head hang so he could simply see past his arms without it knowing where he was looking. It was hard to know what would happen if he was caught staring, and honestly? He'd rather be ended because he fought back, not for looking at something. That would be even worse than having been abandoned by his own pod using a prank. So he held his breath and looked up at that face again.
Then he immediately bit the hand beneath him. Hard. His aim was to draw blood at the very least, and he needed to do it before the human could stop him. The only response he seemed to get was a quiet whine of pain and a harsh flinch that nearly sent him off the hand. What stopped such a fate were the fingers, curling up over him. Without delay, since the other bite was already bleeding, he whipped around and sunk his teeth into one of those massive digits instead, his arms wrapping around it so his claws could dig in as well. He was fully aware that he couldn't win this, but that didn't stop him from trying.
What did make him pause was that finger separating itself from the rest slowly, followed by that much too loud voice ringing out above him. "UhmâŚwill you please let goâŚ? ThatâŚit kinda hurts?" The voice was still too loud for him, but he could for the first time understand the words being spoken, even even what sounded like hesitation in the tone. Of course, his response to this comment was to bite even harder and snarl while he did, moving his head a little to trying twisting and make it worse. The human winced in pain, those ears drawing back as it instead muttered, "Yeah, okay, that's fair." He wanted the human to feel pain, why was it saying this was fair?!
His anger was boiling over and he grabbed onto it, using it to bury all the fear as he snapped his head to the side with an angry hiss, clawing at the finger he'd been biting before it bending forced him to let go. He fell back onto the palm, not really able to support himself with his tail. Wait. The human had a tail too. He narrowed his eyes while keeping his teeth bared as a few things clicked into place. He remembered an animal that had those ears, eyes, and tail. It was also very sharp in his mind that he'd seen it swiping fish out if the water and chasing any mer that got close. He didn't know the name, but this human looked like they were part animal. That animal. That eats fish. And probably mer too.
A very brief look of terror flashed through his eyes and he dug his claws into the palm a whole lot more to hurriedly turn it into anger. He looked this giant in the eye with as much Hate and rage as he could muster, his mind simmering as he ignored how the sun was slowly making his skin itch as it dried him out. With one deep breath, he practically screamed out, "THE HELL ARE YOU EVEN GOING TO DO?! STOP STARING AND JUST DO SOMETHING DAMNIT! YOU'RE TOO LOUD AND TOYING WITH ME! IF YOU'RE GOING TO DO SOMETHING TO ME, JUST DO IT!" His sudden volume was plenty loud enough to make those freaky animal ears go down and it felt like his own personal victory.
Until the hand finally moved. He was going up, being brought right to that face. It was impossible to fully get rid of a shudder as his eyes widened. Was he going to die now? His mouth did usually get everyone mad at him. He'd actually asked for this one though, butâŚhe looked at the closed mouth of the face he was rapidly approaching. Was the giant going to eat him like that animal did that fish? He turned his head away to hide his face while not wanting to see what would happen to him. It was over. He'd purposely yelled at the human and said to get it over with. It was only a moment later that he felt the huge digits behind him start to close in on him. He didn't even flinch.
He was expecting to die somehow, but the human decided to speak again. "What?? YouâŚdo you think I want to hurt you? I'm sorry I was too loudâŚdid I really scare you that badly? I wasn't trying really hard not toâ" Why was this stupid giant prolonging his death? But they just continued their ramble. "âbut IâŚI messed up? What did I do? How do I fix it? Is there something you want?" The voice was growing increasingly higher pitched and they were talking way too fast. He growled inwardly, despising that he had to listen to such idiotic lies after begging to die. Did it really thing he was that stupid? That he wasn't just some fun creature to toy with and leave to die? Lies.
He raised his head back up to stare his likely killer in the eyes, only to find out they were right in front of him. He had soared past the mouth and even the nose, being held so perfectly level with the eyes that he couldn't avoid noticing their emotions. With a shiver he didn't even try to contain, he scrambled backwards only to realize those fingers were holding him in place. His eyes were rounded at this revelation, merely glad to see his tail was at least still against the palm and not just hanging. If relieved was the right thing to feel, rather, when he was terrified. What else could he feel when staring into eyes each bigger than his head. Happiness??
Finally though, the hand moving snapped him out of it right as the human softly asked, "Hey, are you okay? Can't you speak?" Alright, so now he was going to be seen as some stupid animal that didn't even have intelligence? Like he'd allow that.
With yet another ferocious snarl, he growled, "Get the fuck away from me." His voice felt despairingly weak and he swallowed hard. Having to meet these eyes like this wasâŚso uncomfortable. It frayed his nerves and played with his mind. The eyes looked too guilty. He leaned away. "JustâŚjust leave me alone or kill me already. I don't want to play these games anymore." He was scared, but his tone still came out full of rage.
The huge eyes only got bigger as they widened, full of what looked to borderline horror. "Kill you?! I'm not going to kill you!" The human shouldn't be sounding so scared of his words. They should be getting mad, yelling at him, hurting him. But nothing was happening. Instead, he rapidly found himself tumbling back down into the hand, which now became two, simply cupped together. It wasn't right to be held like he was breakable. He glared at the human. They just wouldn't stop trying to mess with him.
Without thinking it through, he snapped, "Why not?! You're bigger than me, you're a predator, I shouldn't even still be alive except to be a handy little plaything for your own entertainment!" Nothing was said in response, everything going quiet. The human wasâŚsilenced? By his worthless and weak voice? This game was getting absurd and the look of pity he was receiving only served to make him retaliate with anger. He bit the hand again, trying as hard as he possibly could to be dropped or finally killed or something.
A wince of pain, but then nothing. He growled and twisted his head, eliciting a gasp and a following whine from right beside him. "Please don't do thatâŚ" Not long after, the other hand stopped being a floor for him and tilted up to cover him from above. He stopped and bit a different spot, feeling his eyes burn from tears he refused to allow free. This was it. The human was finally going to end it, byâŚcrushing him. He finally got what he wantedâŚwhy did it make him want to escape from it? To never have asked for this? But no pain came. It was darkened, but stopped there, the other hand harmlessly held over him, making it almost reminiscent of a caveâŚif the walls were made of tanned flesh that kept moving around him. A muffled voice came to him next with, "I'll just put you back in the oceanâŚ"
A spike of fear at the thought of returning, and yet he could already feel the human moving, making him roll slightly while struggling to stay in place. He stopped biting, now more intent on keeping himself still and not being given back to the ocean. Sure he'd been planning to escape there, but if he was for some reason getting free transport he wanted something else. A river or stream, something to make his boring life have some sort of meaning to it. This felt more like he'd be discarded this way than freed into it. He wasn't going to say or do anything, but his racing heart won. "WAIT WAIT WAIT!"
Everything immediately stilled and he had to cling to the skin under him to not go rolling away. He wanted to relax and maybe try to figure out why he'd said to wait, but the human of course had to butt in on it. "Don't you live there? I'll put you back, are you sure?" He inhaled sharply, thinking about being in the exposed shallows with the sheer number of those strange birds from earlier hanging around. He'd seen how many there were already. If he was put back in, not only would he be back in the place he'd grown to hate, he'd become food. Dying by the hand of a giant sounded much better than temporary, fake freedom, followed by being eaten.
He moved a bit, wincing silently at how dry his tail was feeling. "...I don't want to be in the ocean. Do whatever you want with me, just get rid of me already, but not the oceanâŚ" He should've been asking for the ocean, not to stay away from it. This was stupid. Why would the human even listen? All he did was give it a new way to hurtâ
"Okay, I won't." He stiffened greatly. Won't what? The voice sounded almost resigned with those words, making his already raised guard bristle with discomfort. Before he could demand an answer though, they spoke again, "I'll justâŚtake you home. You're probably needing some water about now and my skin can't be helping that, not to mention it's really hot out today, huh? And it's not like there's any other water sources aroundâŚI don't even know what else you want if you don't want the ocean. Maybe you'll tell me once you're not so dried up?" He blinked at the half darkness as he listened to the disembodied voice from beyond the walls of hand.
The human wasâŚjust going to keep him? Probably to be able to toy with him better. Tools and other gadgets at their home to make his fate even worse. With an air of defeat over knowing he couldn't possibly claw his way out of the prison of hands, he hung his head. "...fine." His voice was quiet but with those ears? No doubt the human heard him. Fine. He'd accept this fate, but he'd go down fighting. He could already feel this giant moving again. For now however, he let his eyes drift shut, exhausted from his struggle and not sure if he'd even wake up later. Not without digging his claws in for good measure, smiling in grim satisfaction at the pained response he got.
Words rang out above him, "Alright, then let's go! I'll take and get a good look at you to make sure you're not injured and try to find a good place for you to stay!" That cheery voice was going to be the death of him, in more ways than one. Yet, that was the last thing he heard before his mind shut itself off. Oh well. Time to leave his fate to the mercy of this strange, giant beingâŚeven if it meant he'd die.
Maybe he wouldn't.
âââ
Part 2
#my characters#my writing#dead writing#oc writing#my art#oc art#mer!irza#oc vara#oc irza#tiny#giant#accidental fearplay#gt writing#gt art#gt ocs#gt#gianttiny#g/t#gentle giant#gt community#g/t community#g/t writing#voidshire#dead art#giant tiny
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Shameful Company [ch 3] Lady Lie [3/4]
masterpost | previous
The village Tommy grew up in was located in a beast's territory, a man eating serpent's. Isolated from the world, all he's ever known is loneliness. When he's forced outside the safety of the town walls he meets a stranger who claims to live beyond the village. They become fast friends despite the fact that the man is clearly hiding something - but can you really blame Tommy? He's never had a friend before.
CW for entire fic: - Wilbur eats people lol - swearing
title taken from 'Shameful Company' by Rainbow Kitten Surprise
chapter title taken from 'Lady Lie' by Rainbow Kitten Surprise inspired by the talented @beckyu and her story 'My Monster to Slay' (tumblr) (AO3)
word count: 4.3k đ read it on AO3
CW for section: depiction of depressive episode including suicide attempt, self harm, disordered eating, and anger issues
Kintsugi (éçśă, "golden joinery"), also known as kintsukuroi (éçšă, "golden repair"), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum; the method is similar to the maki-e technique. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. Kintsugi
How have things been since last you messaged me? I'm reminding you to keep the antidote close, perhaps on your body. I can't imagine he'll be happy trapped in human form and I recommend you keep your guard up.
"FUCK. YOU!" Wilbur screamed, smashing Phil's equipment on the ground. There was a noise like shattering glass as it landed,.
Phil winced, wondering what exactly got ruined. He toyed anxiously with his necklace. "I'm sorry," he said soothingly. "But you need to - "
"What I need is to not be stuck in this - this body!" He crumpled into a ball on the floor, breathing heavily and shaking like a leaf.
"I'm sorry," Phil repeated. "I'm so, so sorry." He made to approach him but Wilbur fell back with a growl at his first movements, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
He's had a hard time adjusting. I'm worried he won't move past this. I'm trying to be patient and I'm doing everything I can in the meantime, but sometimes he just -
"Wil, sweetheart, you need to eat something."
"No." His voice was bitter and hot.
"You haven't eaten anything in days - would you please try the stew? It would put something into your belly without you having to - "
"No." He was more insistent that time, but as well, his voice cracked and wavered. He looked away from Phil and harshly blinked tears from his eyes.
Phil nudged a half bowl of mushroom soup towards him. "There are some potatoes and the like in there, but they're softened from being cooked. I know chewing is new to you, but it's a skill you can practice and - "
"I don't want to learn how to chew," he gritted out. "I'd rather starve."
"Wilbur - you will if you don't eat, please, just try - "
I'm sorry, Phil, that's terrible.
"Oh fuck - honey, what did you do?" Phil dropped his bag and hurried to Wilbur. Kneeling down, he gently took the boy's hands in his own and delicately held them palm up to expose the wrists.
Wilbur stared blankly at the wall. He was completely unresponsive and looked terribly pale.
Phil tried to focus on his labored breathing. Dead children don't breathe. And Wilbur was breathing very hard indeed.
"We're gonna get you cleaned up, okay? It could be a lot worse than it is, but you're still - you're losing a lot of blood."
He pulled him up and Wilbur went without resistance.
The motion seemed to pull him from the fog, from the dark place he was trapped in, but only by a little. He focused hazily on Phil's face before his eyes slid away. He leaned into Phil's touch.
Phil complied, curling protective arms around him and entirely supporting his weight. His heart pounded painfully in his chest as he felt warm, sticky blood beginning to soak into his clothes. "You're okay, you're okay... you're gonna be okay," he mumbled to him. "Everything's gonna be okay."
I'm worried about him. I don't think he's gonna get better.
It took Wilbur three days to wake up.
Every few hours, Phil would press his fingers against the boy's neck just to make sure his pulse was still going.
He lost sleep.
Whenever his body did finally succumb to the exhaustion, he was plagued by the same nightmare. In it, there was a cold body that wouldn't breathe but wouldn't stop bleeding, no matter what he did. He could apply any amount of bandages or tourniquets or even stitches, but the blood would soak through and the wounds would split open. He didn't know why he was even trying to stem the blood flow as the child was long dead, but he couldn't stop himself. Phil just wanted him to be okay.
The cave overflowed, a testament to his failure. The blood was viscous, solid, and completely nontransparent. As it engulfed the floor and the beds and the furniture, he became overcome with the paralyzing fear that everything it swallowed was gone forever, and he could dive deep and swim hard without ever reaching the bottom. The only thing left unblemished by the void was the body itself, frail and small and helpless and dead. Phil couldn't stop trying to save him, futile as it was. The red seeped into his eyes. He was rendered blind, and the last thing he took in before it filled his delicate lungs and killed him dead was the overpowering smell of iron and the distinct, hollow feeling of shame.
He would wake up crying and soaked in cooling sweat, and he'd fall over himself to reach Wilbur's bed. The only thing that could calm him down after those dreams was placing his ear over the boy's heart and listening to the steady beat.
Phil didn't leave the cave. He spent his days watching Wilbur. In preparation for his waking, he'd cook, boiling potatoes and grain and meat until they lost form from the gentlest touch, and impatiently, he waited. He cleaned the wounds and fought the infection with a combination of antiseptic and magic. He redressed the bandages constantly (thanking his stars that the blood never seeped through), and reapplied balm twice a day.
Under his gentle care and watchful eye, Wilbur's body healed. His body healed, but Phil never stopped worrying for his mind.
Shouldn't think like that. He had a bad moment, but he's already proven he's a strong kid. He must have been, to survive what he has. Have faith in him. He needs to be loved before he can be lovable.
"Why did you save me?"
Phil looked up sharply. It was the first thing he'd said in a week. The boy's voice was rough from disuse, and he visibly swallowed. Phil cautiously approached him, handing him his second serving of soup.
"I'm not sure how you mean that question."
He wouldn't look him in the eyes. "Just - why?"
Phil was quiet for a few seconds. "Do you think I shouldn't have?"
The boy looked uncomfortable and didn't say anything.
"I won't be angry if you say yes," Phil said gently. "I'm asking because you did that to yourself. And I have to wonder if you did it because you feel like you deserve to - "
"Does it matter why I did it?" He snapped, his fingers curling into a fist.
Yes. More than anything. "We don't have to think about that right now."
Wilbur softened. He was quiet several seconds. "So why did you save me?"
Because you were hurt. Because you're a kid. Because I don't believe anyone deserves to die. Because I believe you deserve to live. Because I love -
"Do I need a reason?" He sat on the edge of Wilbur's bed. Absentmindedly, his hand reached for the boy's hair and started to ruffle. He froze, realizing what he was doing, and made uncomfortable eye contact with Wilbur.
His cheeks were a bright red... but he wasn't withdrawing from the touch.
Phil slowly restarted his movements, scratching the boy's scalp. "You're adorable," he chanced.
Wilbur sputtered and slapped his hand away, earning a laugh from Phil. He tried to frown at him, but it didn't take long before he was laughing just as hard.
I hope you're right Tech, I really want this to work out for him. I admit, sometimes it feels like he's getting better, but other times -
Wilbur hadn't left his bed in two days.
"Take my hand, okay? I'll bring you up, and then you and I are gonna take a short walk outside. Get you some sunshine? Sounds nice, right mate?"
He stared at Phil's hand with weak contempt. "Can't you just leave me alone?" There was no real bite behind his words. "If you want to take a walk, just go by yourself."
Phil shook his head firmly. "Come with me." He kept his hand extended. "Fifteen minutes. I want to talk to you."
"About what?" Wilbur asked mistrustfully.
"About nothing. I don't have anything I want to talk to you about, I just want to talk to you."
"Well, we're talking right now."
Phil sighed and dropped his hand, his heart sinking to his feet. "Please come with me."
Wilbur glared at him.
~
"I made your favorite," Phil said hopefully, motioning towards the set dining table.
His face crumpled. "No thanks."
"When was the last time you ate?"
He didn't answer.
"Wil?"
~
"Put it down!" Phil yelled.
Wilbur scrambled backwards, a bloody bread knife still clutched desperately in his right fist. For someone who had only started walking regularly a year ago, he was surprisingly agile when pumped full of panic and adrenaline.
"What the fuck is your problem?!" He screamed back. Tears were streaming down his face and his left arm was bleeding freely.
"Please," Phil said, with as much patience and love as he could muster - which at the moment wasn't a lot - "just hand me the knife, okay?"
"Fuck no! And fuck you!"
"You can swear at me later," he begged, frustration seeping into his voice, "please just give me the fucking knife!"
Wilbur dodged his hands and sprinted towards the entrance of the cave. "Eat my fucking ass, Phil!"
Sometimes getting better looks like getting worse.
"I'm not - I can't do this!" Wilbur wailed, hugging his knees. "It's too hard, Phil, I'm never gonna get it."
Phil sat down next to him and pulled him into a tight hug, letting Wilbur empty himself of his emotions. It must have been an hour of heartbroken crying before Wilbur quieted down into sniffles and sharp breathing.
Phil sighed and traced patterns into his back. "I'm sorry. I know I say it all the time, but I'm so, so sorry."
He waited for Wilbur to snap at him, start yelling about how he should be sorry, how 'sorry' doesn't fix anything, how he hates him and no amount of 'sorry' can fix it, but he stays quiet.
Tentatively, Phil continues, "You've been working so hard. Learning to walk on two feet, and chew, and adjust to being small - it's a lot. You should have had someone to teach you these things when you were younger. I'm so sorry, Wilbur. It's so much, isn't it? It's not easy for you."
Wilbur's breathing hitched and Phil felt guilt well up inside of him.
"I - shit, sorry mate, I didn't mean to make you cry - "
Wilbur pressed himself into Phil's chest, leaning in hard and practically forcing Phil to keep his arms around him.
"Oh..." he said softly, blinking down at him.
"Are you gonna leave me?" He blurted out, voice muffled in Phil's chest.
Phil's heart ached. "No. Never. Never ever."
Wilbur clung on tight and didn't say anything else.
~
Wilbur was screaming again. Phil watched helplessly from his bed, where he'd woken up twenty minutes earlier to smashing and yelling. He fiddled with his necklace, worriedly taking in the scene before him.
Every book on nagas had its pages ripped out and crumpled, strewn across the ground like confetti, and a large portion of Phil's clothing had been torn into and cut up. Food was spilled across the floor. Everything was in disarray.
Wilbur was currently tossing things into the fireplace. The fire inside was steadily dying. He didn't seem to give much regard as to if what he was burning was flammable or not, but he still tossed anything he could reach into the pile.
Phil stood up, his heart aching, and made his way to the kitchen area. He gingerly stepped over broken shards of glass and spilled rations while Wilbur stared at him, breathing hard and looking ready to brawl.
Phil just gave him a sad look.
"Will you fucking quit that?!" Wilbur snapped, sending a pile of papers onto the ground.
He winced as they went down, and Wilbur bared his teeth in a mock smile.
Phil just sighed and pulled open one of the cabinets, happy to find that the tea, kettle, and cups were still perfectly preserved. He started to set some water boiling on the stove.
Apparently dissatisfied with his reaction, Wilbur screamed again before picking up a lantern and smashing it down as hard as he could. Shards flew and spread across the ground.
Phil ignored it.
Wilbur started to march towards him, but stumbled and gasped in pain as a long shard of glass lodged itself into his foot. He made a throaty, angry noise and stomped his foot down hard, pushing the debris deeper into his skin before continuing to limp towards Phil. He readied a hand to smack the boiling kettle off the stove, and it was here that Phil finally stepped in.
He grabbed Wilbur around the wrists and tugged him away, firm but gentle. Wilbur writhed in his grip but he paid no mind, sweeping him into bridal style and carrying him to his bed as he clawed and thrashed. Phil deposited him onto the mattress and turned away, back to the tea. He continued preparing it in silence.
Wilbur stood up and hobbled to the kitchen. Phil made to stop him again, thinking he was still trying to knock the tea over, but instead he reached for the cabinet containing their silverware and dishes. He snapped open the little door and started grabbing for the contents.
Staring him in the eyes, Wilbur took a dish at a time and smashed them against the wall. He got through five while coldly glaring at Phil before he started to pick up the pace, gradually paying less and less attention to his reactions - or more accurately, his lack thereof - as he threw everything he could at the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Hot tears streamed down his face. Then he ran out of dishes. He kicked a half broken bowl into the wall and stepped into the shards. By now, there were bloody footsteps all over the floor, tracing out his meltdown, and he seemed all too happy to add more paint to the canvas. He fell to his knees and the glass sank into his flesh there as well. He pressed his palms into the floor and he raised his hands, Phil caught sight of the torn up, encrusted skin.
Wilbur started to whimper, and then he started to sob.
Phil poured two cups of hot tea and left them on the table to cool. He made his way to Wilbur, assuming he'd gotten it out of his system.
He looked up at Phil, his cheeks splotchy and red and his eyes completely bloodshot, and then he reached for the nearest sizable glass shard. Seeing Phil quicken his pace, he quickened too, raising it rapidly towards his face - towards his eye. Just as he made to plunge it into his skull, Phil grabbed him around the arm and held him back. He pulled the glass from his grip, ignoring the cutting sting on its edge and let it shatter on the floor before Wilbur could further self mutilate. He tried to grab him around the armpits, get him to his feet, but Wilbur kicked him hard and shoved him away.
"GO AWAY!" Wilbur screamed. "JUST FUCKING GO!"
Phil tripped as he backed away, his breath catching in his lungs.
Wilbur inhaled sharply. "Fuck - just fuck off..." His voice came out considerably weaker.
It was silent, save for his soft crying.
After a painfully long half minute, he managed to choke out a single, heartbroken, "Why?"
"Why... why what?"
A sob fought its way from his mouth in spite of his best attempts to choke it down, and a fresh cascade of tears went down his face. "Just - why?" A dam broke. "I don't -Â I don't get it," he cried, barely able to speak for the sobs wracking his body. "I don't understand. Why? Why? I don't - I just... I just don't fucking get it."
He raised his a hand to wipe away his tears, and the invisible barrier keeping Phil anchored to the spot dissolved. He shot forward and stopped Wilbur's hands, insistent on wiping away his tears himself.
"Glass hands," he murmured. "Let me, okay? Just let me..."
Wilbur hung his head and continued his broken wailing, but he didn't fight as Phil carefully wiped the tears and snot from his face.
Phil sifted through the debris on the ground until he unearthed one of his day packs. He opened it and reached into a padded inner pocket, pulling out a small vial. He returned to the table and pulled one of the teacups forward, emptying the potion into the warm drink.
"Healing pot," he gentle explained. "Let's get you fixed up."
He returned to Wilbur's side and helped him to his feet. Slowly guiding him to the table. An absurd thought hit him then, how similar this action was to when he'd first guided Wilbur to the cave after trapping him in human form. He winced with each limped step Wilbur took, knowing the shards in his feet would only wedge itself deeper into his body. He sat him down at the table.
Wilbur reached out a bloody, glass encrusted hand for his drink and Phil shooed him off, raising the cup to the boy's lips instead. "There's enough in this cup to heal all the damage you took, so you need to drink all of it. But you can pace yourself."
He took a few sips before miserably pulling away. Phil obliged, setting the cup down and pulling his own towards himself. He watched idly as the glass in Wilbur's hands slowly started to push itself out.
"There you go," he murmured warmly. "Potion's doing its job just fine."
By now, Wilbur's crying had begun to taper off.
Phil raised the cup to the boy's mouth again, and he accepted the drink. The last of the glass pushed itself free from his hands, and Phil gently set it into his grip.
They sat in silence. The sun was starting to rise. Their home was a broken mess.
Wilbur stared shamefully into his cup. "I just don't get it," he repeated, voice broken and raspy.
Phil nodded. "Which part?"
"The whole thing."
They continued sipping their tea.
Phil returned to the cabinet, grabbing a jar of honey. He stirred a few dollops into Wilbur's cup and refilled it with another portion of tea. "It'll soothe your throat."
They drank until the sun sat low in the sky.
"I made a mess," he said, breaking the silence.
Phil hummed. "It's okay."
Wilbur clenched his jaw. "How can you say that?"
"Easily."
They lapsed back into silence.
Wilbur chugged the rest of his tea, and then threw the cup against the wall. He turned to Phil with a curious, guarded expression.
Phil regarded him inquisitively. Wilbur's action had lacked anger or passion. If anything, it seemed half-hearted.
He continued sipping his tea. "Do you want another cup?" He clarified in afterthought, "Specifically to drink from."
Wilbur stared at him expressionlessly. "What. The fuck?"
"I'm not going to punish you, Wil," Phil stated with a slight note of exasperation.
He frowned at him. "I don't want you to," he said coldly, clearly offended by the implication.
Phil finished his own cup. "Okay."
"I don't!" he insisted.
"I said okay."
Wilbur was quiet. Then he inhaled sharply and spat out, "Aren't you mad at me?!"
"... I feel like that's irrelevant."
Wilbur glared at him, his hands starting to ball into fists.
Phil sighed, relenting. "Sometimes I am. Sometimes I can be very frustrated with your behavior."
Something in his face dropped and his body went limp, a devastated look like disappointment flashing across his face before he could properly cover it up with a snarl. "Good," he hissed.
"I get angry at you because I care about you, mate. If your goal is self destruction, I wouldn't count this as a victory."
"That doesn't make any sense - none of this makes any sense!" Wilbur exploded.
"I know it doesn't."
"Well, do you care to explain?"
Phil scrubbed at his face. "I would if I thought it would make you feel better." Before Wilbur could say something to add to his spiral, he continued plainly, "I'm going to throw this cup at the wall."
This caught him off guard. "Excuse me?"
Phil threw his teacup at the wall. It exploded. Wilbur stared at him with a slack jawed expression.
"I want to show you something."
He began to murmur under his breath while making quick motions with his hands. Light and sparks began to dance and fill the air behind his fingers' movements. Wilbur's eyes widened. The cup fragments lifted and floated airily towards the table from where they'd collected on the ground. They arranged themselves neatly in a circle. With a deliberate flick of his fingers, the shards fit themselves together like a jigsaw puzzles, and with a softly hummed three note tune, clean gold liquid started to materialize in the air and apply itself to the cracks. Wilbur watched in awe as the delicate shards slowly came together, even the smallest pieces finding their way to where they used to be. The cup, repaired with beautiful gold binding over its cracks, gently set itself onto the table before the pair.
"It's a kintsugi spell. And I want to teach you how to perform it. I also want to teach you how to brew healing potions."
Wilbur swallowed, a conflicted look crossing his face. "Is this why you aren't punishing me?" Because the damage I did wasn't permanent, wasn't big enough. Because I haven't truly pushed you to the edge?
Phil gave him a look. "I'm not punishing you because there's nothing in this world that you could do to me - or to anyone else - that would make me think you deserve to be punished."
A defiant look crossed his face and he spat out harshly, "That is bullshit. You're a fucking liar - or you're delusional. I don't know what's wrong with you, but that isn't how this works. I just want to know - " he cut himself off, glowering at the table.
"It is how this works," Phil gently countered. "It is how this is working."
Wilbur glared at him. "I've killed a lot of people, Phil."
"I know you have."
"And the majority of them didn't deserve it. At all. They were innocents." His voice broke at the end and he furiously blinked back tears. That indignant, heated look never left his face.
"I know that too."
"I ate most of them alive."
Phil didn't respond, only looking at him sympathetically.
"I heard them screaming and dying inside of me, and I never once felt bad about it." Liar.
"I know, Wil - "
"No. No, I don't think you do."
Phil sighed. "Sweetheart, I saw you eat Jared."
Wilbur's mouth fell open in shock, and a mortified look crossed his face.
"Don't be embarrassed that I know. The first time we met, you kept trying to kill me too. You kept trying to eat me."
He averted his gaze, his cheeks heating up and fresh tears collecting in his eyes.
Phil started to perform the kintsugi spell again. "The point is that I know. I know very well. And I still don't think you deserve to be punished."
He worked silently for another minute, pretending for Wilbur's sake that he didn't notice the streams of tears dripping down his face. He finished repairing the teacup Wilbur had thrown, and when he was done, he poured another portion of tea - the last portion left in the kettle - and gently dropped a spoonful of honey in. He stirred it, the sweet noise of the spoon moving in circles absolutely musical.
"I know it seems bad. I know it feels like this is a lost cause, that the damage is too much." He pushed the cup into Wilbur's hands. "But you would be surprised at the things you can fix."
Wilbur accepted the cup. His fingers traced over the gold sealed the cracks. Something in him seemed to die. "You can feel where it broke," he said desperately. His voice cracked into a whimper. "You can feel - they're still there."
"Of course they are," Phil said soothingly, running a finger across one of the gold veins on his own cup. "But the cups still hold tea just fine, don't they? You can tell our cups were broken, but they're still fully functional. And just as beautiful as they were before, even if they look different."
He touched the cup irreverently. "This tea set was a gift from my son, actually. Lots of love in these cups. Lots of history in them too."
Wilbur shrank back, fresh shame taking over his features. "I'm sorry," slipped past his lips. Phil looked at him curiously. It was the first time he'd ever heard him say that.
"You're misunderstanding me. I love these cups, mate. I'm still going to love them even if they get a little broken or chipped. I'm not going to throw them away just because of a little damage. Especially if the damage can be fixed."
He reached forward and gently pushed a few strands of hair from Wilbur's eyes. He adoringly thumbed the boy's temple. "I have every reason to keep these cups. I love these cups. Very, very much." He stared at him for a few seconds, a tender, sweet quality in his eyes. He let go of Wilbur's face and motioned for him to give him his hand.
"Will you learn the spell? I can't always be around to put things back together, and it would make me feel better if I knew someone taught you how to take care of the things you care about."
Still sniffling, Wilbur nodded. "Okay." And then he blurted out, "Thank you."
Phil smiled. "Of course. Anytime. I'm always happy to help you navigate these things, okay?"
Wilbur gave him a small smile in return, and for the first time since he'd brought him home, Phil felt like their story might have a happy ending.
~ ~ ~
đˇď¸: @i-am-beckyu @da3dm @flowers-of-plenty @gracideaviolet
ah haheuaheuhaeuahe. well i hope you enjoyed this
#rose writes#tiny!phil#giant!wilbur#naga!wilbur#mcyt gt#mcyt g/t#shapeshifter!wilbur#sizeshifter!wilbur#mcyt fanfic#adoption#angst#fluff#fantasy au#Shameful Company (fanfic)#character death#giant!techno#minigiant!techno#dragon!techno#shapeshifter!techno#cw suicide#cw self harm#cw eating problems
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hittin a jig !!!
inspired by that one dsmp thingy where tommy finally got his beach party but with wilbur :D am i in my art era ?? istg i find a stylus and i get motivated ???/
oh shit i have a taglist now UMMM UUMMUM
@da3dm, @rosewriting-ao3, @krazycat49, @i-am-beckyu, @a-xyz-s, @skullsnbruises (all of you lmk if you want strictly fic tags cause i can totally do that :D)
#mw#brick-a-doodles#mcyt g/t#mcyt gt#dsmp g/t#dsmp gt#dream smp g/t#dream smp gt#t!tommy#implied g!wilbur
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hallo! do you have some good rec for some g wilbur and t tommy fic?
Yes! I do have recommendations for you ! I really recommend people to watch @rosewriting-ao3 Roseâs Shameful Company and @i-am-beckyu Beckyâs My Monster to Slay. Both of them are talking about naga Wilbur and human Tommy and i really enjoy how they encounter and when Wilburâs truth identity was exposed.
And thereâs a third one I also really really suggest people should see it . Itâs @arc852 Arcâs Severed Up Server, amazing story concept and plot which makes me wanted to read more and more! So hereâs the link to all story I suggested hope you guys like it and go check out the writer too!
Hereâs the link to those amazing stories!! Plz do check them out :DDDDD Cuz I love it so muchhh
Roseâs Shameful Company
Beckyâs My Monster to Slay
Arcâs Served Up
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*flutters into your inbox and places down a token before flying away*
Token Reads:
This is a PLEASE RAMBLE ABOUT ANYTHING token. Can be used multiple times but âBeckyuâ would like you to ramble about some writing :3
Please and Thank you
Ramble you say?
Well, I've been slowly falling into the g/t crimebois propaganda.
Side eyes a g/t crimebois google docs and prompt
So far, I've been working on another fic that is in my google docs, planning to post it on both ao3 and tumblr.
Remember that post I made about Mario and Luigi: Dream Team giving me vibes about crimebois?
Lets just say that it's on the works.
Why not a little sneak peek?
You could say that I'm gonna have a lot of fun with this one >:3
Next thing would be Brick's prompt!
Trust me when I say this, I swear I'm working on it.
My motivation is just down the drain at the moment qwq
You could say that writers block is hitting me hard Qwq
But hey, what I can say is that there is some Jared and Wilbur friendship.
Maybe when I further develop the prompt, (Insert important spoilers that I won't reveal)
Anyways, sneak peek!!
Hope this is enough rambling for today.
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@i-am-beckyu , @brick-a-doodle-do , @justarandomsloth , @rosewriting-ao3 , @awkwardgtace (bc I'm interested but idk if anyone will see this or participate in it)
I wish you would write a fic where...
Send me an anymous (or not) summary of the fic you wish I would write. (maybe I will write a tidbit)
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Patience is a Virtue and Trust is Earned
A continuation of my Christmas fic One Small Gift
AYOOOOO! 3RD YEAR IN A ROW I'VE WRITTEN A CHRISTMAS FIC! LETS GO! I've been writing this fic on and off for almost a year ever since posting the first fic and got a few people wanting a sequel so congratulations!! You got your wish!!!
I recommend reading the first fic if you haven't already as this fic references plot that may not make sense without context so please consider reading it first before reading on. I'm gonna ramble on at the end of this fic but without further ado, MERRY CHRISTMAS AND ENJOY!!!
cw: fear, lying, panic and anxiety, hidden identity, magic and a TONNE of fluff and whimsey!
word count: 9180
Disclaimer! This story is based on the characters of the Dream SMP and not the real life content creators. Anything that occurs in this story is purely fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you.
ŕźâ â
シ:*:・ â âË ď˝Ąâââ・Ëâ â âşââ
â âşâââ
Borrowers.
Tiny scavengers that take human things for survival.
Well, thatâs what all the articles say.
Wilbur leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. His back popped from the unhealthy way heâd been hunched over his computer for the last few hours, but he hardly noticed as he scrolled the internet.
âYet another useless article that tells me nothing about how to actually coax one out.â He sighed dejectedly.
Now you are absolutely right, he should be studying right now while at University and not googling Borrowers again for the millionth time, but itâs not like he wanted to risk doing it at home. No way was he going to jeopardise having Tommy leave.
It had been a few weeks since Wilbur had met the young boy that fateful Christmas Eve and he was positive they hadnât left. Not when he was now able to recognise the tell tale signs of a scavenger living in his walls. But the man was getting a tad testy about not being able to speak to them in person.Â
Over and over Wilbur had to tell himself that Tommy trusted Santa Claus, not him. If they ever got a tiny hint that he knew of their existence, then that would be it and the boy would be gone. If a Borrower was seen, the rule they set for themselves was they had to leave no matter the circumstances. Staying after being seen was an absolute no no and never worth the risk. The articles had been very extensive on that point.
His other option to try and unknowingly lure the boy out wasnât going very well either. Every idea seemed either too obvious, or too dangerous to attempt. (No he definitely did not consider using a mouse trapâŚ)
Tommy was smart enough to avoid those anyway.
But he couldnât ignore the growing urge to speak to them despite how foolish it would be to do so. Itâs not like he could just walk straight up to Tommyâs wall and be like: âHi Iâm Wilbur but you already know that and I know youâre living in my walls. Sorry for ruining your house and kidnapping you haha.â
âŚ
Yeah that would definitely send Tommy packing.
So like anyone does when theyâve run out of ideas, Wilbur rushed to the internet and started doing his research.
Borrowers- who are they, and how to befriend one.
Surprisingly, it seemed there were definitely people who knew about them. The few articles proof enough; but no one seemed to know anything further or wanted to speak up about how they knew what they did. The few authors or bloggers heâd emailed ended up ghosting him when asked to elaborate or rudely shut him down (looking at you PandasCanPVP) and though it did make sense they didnât answer his questions; protect the borrowers and their code etc, it was still damn frustrating that no one was open to helping him.Â
Heâd at least done a few things to aid Tommy a bit more. He left more food out for longer than required and on the lower shelves so the blonde didnât have to go to such lengths for a meal, and heâd creatively turned an unused draw into a junk draw and filled it with a bunch of mismatched items with multiples of each so that Tommy didnât have to worry about him getting suspicious. (He definitely did not smile when he counted 6 paper clips instead of 7)
But there wasnât really anything more he could do in terms of coaxing Tommy out. Wilbur just had to hope that either his message as Santa got through to him, or that heâd catch sight of Tommy one day and have an opportunity to acknowledge his existence. He hoped for the first of the two, but heâd take either to just make progress with the boy at all.
At least he had peace of mind they were doing better now then they had been before Christmas Eve. Niki was an absolute legend for helping him make all those tiny gifts. So yes he owed Nicki a massive favour when he absolutely bamboozled her for showing up outside her front door in the middle of the night and begged her for help to make tiny clothes for Tommy without explaining what for and why he needed them done that night. And yes heâd had to suck it up Christmas Day when he was tired as hell from working through the night to do it, but not for a second did Wilbur regret it when he knew how happy those gifts would have made the Borrower child.
It took everything in him not to tell his family about the encounter too, not wanting to risk the blonde hearing him, but it was for the best. One day it was going to pay off and then he could properly apologise for what he had done and get Tommy home.
Even if it meant heâd never really get to know the little guy, he would do it!
And that was a promise.
ŕźâ â
シ:*:・ â âË ď˝Ąâââ・Ëâ â âşââ
â âşâââ
This Wilbur guy was weird.
Did he have any reasons to back that statement up?Â
NOPE!Â
Wilbur was just decidedly a wrong-un and that was a good enough reason for him to accept.
Tommy had been finding his time in Wilburâs walls a lot more pleasant now that he had some proper supplies. Santa really did spoil him rotten with all the extra gifts and was making getting by so much more achievable than what he had been previously. Even before his kidnapping, living in the forest certainly did not come with quite the same number of luxuries that living in a Human Beans house did.
For one: Constant food source.Â
Wilbur was one sloppy guy.Â
Bean did not seem very keen on putting things away properly before he left the house for hours at a time for this âYou-knee-verse-it-teaâ thingy he went to for school. Anyone normal would probably think he was a slob, but for Tommy it was the golden ticket to trying foods heâd never even dreamed of! Did you know bread could actually taste good when it wasnât mouldy?Â
Wilburâs house was just a treasure trove of things to borrow from and Tommy had pretty much anything and everything he could ever want here. He still had plans to get back to his nook home, but perhaps it wouldnât hurt to stay for awhile longer while he figured out where home actually was.
There wasnât really a rush to leave with all the snow still about anyways. He couldnât be the bestest Borrower ever if he was frozen solid before he got home, but he couldnât help but think about what Santa had said.Â
âHeâs not as scary as you thinkâ
After the whole meeting with the REAL Santa, Tommy hadnât felt the same. After being so used to the isolation of the forest, physically talking to someone that wasnât an animal or a tree had left the Borrower a tad empty. Heâd spoken to someone, and they had spoken and listened back. The candy cane card sat in front of his bed and every day Tommy would wake up and reread the message and reminisce about that fateful night.Â
It seemed bonkers to the boy, the idea of actually speaking to another Human Bean, but Santaâs kindness and words seemed to ring loud in his head. Heâd been longing to talk to someone again for so long, and after observing Wilbur all this time; the Bean hadnât done anything to suggest that they were a bad person. Believing that Santa was telling the truth wasnât hard, but the thought of willingly revealing himself? Well it was easier said than done.
Because what if Santa was wrong?Â
What if Wilbur was kind to other Beans but looked at him and decided he was more of a âTommy shaped petâ instead of an actual person? Just what would he do when he held all power over him? He would be powerless to stop them and could quite easily end off worse than where he started.
Tommy tried to shake the thoughts away before he thought too hard about it.Â
Wilbur would never catch him.
That wasnât going to happen if he could help it.
Speak of the devil and they shall appear, as the sound of faint keys being slid into a lock as it clicked, signalled the return of said Bean. The man gently opened and shut the door as they sighed before walking into the kitchen, as Tommy listened intently to their routine.
Put their bag down on the table. Open and close the fridge Shuffle through the cupboards for something to eat. Take out a box of half eaten crackers. Eat one and toss the rest on the bench for later.
Move into the bedroom to relax and close the door with a soft-
âClickâ
Tommy grinned mischievously to himself.
Now was his time to shine.
It might be foolish to any other Borrower to take food while a Bean was actively awake and home, but Tommy had seen Wilbur do this enough times to know now that that man was not going anywhere for at least another 20 to 40 minutes while they de-stressed their day away watching Tikky Toks on their phone, and there was no way he was wasting the opportunity to get food while it was easy access on the bench right now.
Silently, Tommy grabbed his hook and borrowing bag as he made his way through the maze of walls to the kitchen outlet. Just a quick trip and Dinner would be acquired.Â
Easy.
With little effort, Tommy slipped the electrical cover off the outlet to the kitchen, double checking the coast was clear before making a move straight for the crackers.Â
âUgh, Seaweed again?â Tommy scrunched his nose up at the obnoxious packaging.Â
He really shouldnât be complaining about the easy borrow, but the blonde knew there were BBQ flavoured ones up on the high shelf he couldnât reach. Stupid Wilbur gatekeeping his favourite snacks. Okay, unknowingly sure, but come on; Seaweed? The same stuff fish eat? Yuck.
Secretly the boy actually didnât mind them too much but it does get a bit much eating the same thing 5 nights in a row. Better plan a supply trip to the high shelves next time Wilburâs out to get stocked up with a bit more variety Tommy decided, as he opened his bag and stored a broken up cracker.Â
As he gathered up his borrowings, the unusual pangs of an instrument in pain sounded down the hall. Tommy gasped as he sped up his movements before grabbing his hook and hastily making his way down to the ground. Another few pangs of an off note sounded through the walls as Wilbur messed with his guitar strings.
Looked like it was dinner and a show tonight!
Lady Lifeâs music of the Forest was good and all, but Tommy never knew music like Wilburâs even existed till he got to experience it one night. It was just like tonight, Wilbur in the other room with Tommy borrowing before the man started doing what was called âtuning the guitarâ to get the instrument in the right key.Â
Tommy thought heâd been destroying the poor instrument until they started playing a song he didnât know. The brunette had talent and listening to them play felt like a private concert just for him. It wasnât long before Tommy had crossed the kitchen and was back in the walls to Wilburâs bedroom, nestled atop the Beanâs shelf out of sight in a discarded Beanie.
The soft strum of the guitar filled the room and Tommy found himself relaxing to the constant rhythm. It was easy to just let himself drift and sway with the melody. The way it put him at ease was almost hypnotic, but the boy found he didnât care if it meant he could indulge in it forever.Â
Wilbur had been working on this song for awhile and it had quickly become one of his favourites. There were many times he had wanted nothing more than to cheer and clap whenever the Human Bean had finished playing, but the lingering fear of being caught was ever present in the boy's mind. This however didnât seem to defer his ever growing loneliness.Â
âWould it be so bad if he were to talk to Wilbur?â
âWhat if he was one of the so-called good Beans?â
âWhat if he had a chance to make a friend?â
Tommy peaked over the edge of the shelf down to where Wilbur was busy absorbed in his playing. How would he even approach them? Itâs not like he could just walk out into the open and be like: âHi Iâm Tommy and Iâve been living in your walls ever since you kidnapped me and using all your stuff. Want to be friends?â
âŚ
Yeah thatâs definitely going to result in him winding up in a jar or something.
If only Santa Claus was still here. It was his suggestion to befriend them in the first place so heâd probably know exactly what to say and do.Â
Wait, THAT WAS IT!!!
Why didnât he think of this sooner? Why not just ask Santa what to do! It made perfect sense! Heâs a Bean and talks to them all the time so obviously he would know exactly how he could approach them!Â
Tommy crept back into the walls and quickly ran off in the direction of the house's study.Â
He had a letter to write.
ŕźâ â
シ:*:・ â âË ď˝Ąâââ・Ëâ â âşââ
â âşâââ
âOkay, Dear SantaâŚâ Tommy said out loud as he began to write in his best handwriting.Â
As soon as heâd found an unused marker in the study, Tommy had been quick to fashion it into one his size from the red tip. His hands had been stained red, but red was the poggest colour ever so he didnât mind. He had gone to start writing a letter with some borrowed paper back in his home that night, but quickly realised Santa probably wouldnât be able to read his letter if the letter was written in his regular handwriting- AKA too small to read with Santaâs bad eyesight from being old. This would require a bigger piece of paper and writing with his Big Man writing skills!
That also meant needing a bigger piece of paper and room to write it which meant waiting for Wilbur to leave and that took far too long with it being a Sunday. Tommy had had to wait HOURS for Wilbur to leave to do the grocery shopping, but at least it meant heâd be out for awhile and the Bean had left the kitchen window open, so it was a good day to enjoy some fresh air, albeit if it was a bit cold still and windy.
So with his new marker in hand and a few sheets of Wilbur's scrap pieces of paper from the Kitchen, Tommy now had everything he could possibly need to write his letter.
âDear Santa.â
âŚ
â---Dear Santa?â
âŚÂ ⌠ âŚ
âDear Santaaaaaaaa UGHHH WHY IS THIS SO HARD!?â
Well, everything but the right wordsâŚ
âIt shouldnât be this difficult!â The boy complained, as he crossed out another attempt at writing.Â
âDear Santa, so you know how you said to talk to Wilbitch? How exactly do I do that?âÂ
Tommy groaned as he furiously scribbled over the dear santa line before flopping himself on top of the stack of papers. He had been trying to write this letter for 15 minutes and he was getting frustrated. He just didnât know how to start the letter.Â
Get straight to the point or ease into?Â
Is there even a way to write a letter correctly?Â
6 year old Beans do this for goodness sake!
He just wanted to ask for the best way to approach Wilbur without the worst occurring. He knew the Beans schedule so he could probably work out a good time to talk to them based on their mood but he also still had to get over the idea of willingly exposing himself and that he definitely needed Santaâs help with. Not to forget to mention he still had to thank Santa for all his gifts too! He honestly couldnât thank him enough for what he had done and the Borrower wanted the old man to know that.
Perhaps just being honest would be the best way to write this? Get it all down in one go and out in the open so he and Santa were completely on the same page. It was at least worth a shot. Wilbur would be back soon and he needed to get something written before that. With a little more internal deliberation, Tommy took a deep breath, and began to write.
Line after line the Borrower wrote his letter- as well as stopping to rest his aching hand as the letter grew longer letting the words flow as best he could. It wasnât perfect, but then again he added pictures and doodles to make it better so heâs pretty sure that evens it out.
The last thing he needed to do was address the letter to Santa and get it to the letterbox. With his best precision skills, Tommy folded the letter in half and wrote on the front in his best writing.
TO: SANTA
NORTH POLE
Once he was done, Tommy stepped back to admire his handy work.
It was a bit wonky and anything but fancy, but for the first letter heâs ever written, it wasnât too bad for a giant letter written by a Borrower.
Now all that was left was to deliver it. The boy quickly put his marker away into his borrowing bag and cleaned up the stack of papers back into a neat pile like how he found it, discarding any of his first bad attempts in the bottom of the bin where Wilbur wouldnât find it, before moving to the window with the letter in tow.Â
Now the best way to get the letter to Santa would be to post it and Tommy had seen some Human Beans put letters in their letter box before on the big black box, and then they were taken to be delivered like magic, so that made the most logical sense to him. Heâd have to go outside to send it, but if he went now and waited till the sun went down, he would be able to scale the letterbox under the cover of darkness and do it with less risk.Â
Tommy set the letter down beside him as he prepared to descend from the window sill to the outside world. The wind had picked up a little bit, but the Borrower was confident in his abilities to scale down the wall without any issues. Just like climbing up and down the trees back in the forest. Hook in, and descend down. Piece of cake.
Once he was sure his hook was secure, Tommy gathered up the letter in one arm before raising his other to shield his eyes from the setting sun, basking in the serenity of the afternoon as a chilly breeze blew through his golden curls.
Tommy exhaled a content sigh. He missed watching the sunset through the trees of the forest, the soft music of trees swaying and birds chirping as they did their birdie things. Hopefully heâd be reunited with his old nook and could enjoy them like he once did again soon. His letter was sure to fix everything.Â
Santa would fix everything.
Tommy gently closed his eyes to savour the feeling one last time, but the boy lingered for just a moment too long as a strong gust of wind was all it took to throw the Borrower off balance and snatch his letter from his grasp, sending it flying off with the wind.
âNO!â The blonde shouted, watching as his letter drifted left and right off into the distance.Â
It was almost magical in a sense, as he watched how it danced through the air and Tommy had to wonder, what if that was intentional. Santa had managed to do things he didnât think possible with his magic, so perhaps he knew when letters were addressed to him and sent a magic wind to collect it for him?
Yeah that made sense! Good old Santa Claus looking out for his favourite Borrower! Prime he should have thanked Santa more in his letter.
Satisfied with coming to this conclusion, Tommy packed up his gear before heading back to the walls for a well deserved rest; blissfully unaware of the true whereabouts of his letter as it drifted through the wind over buildings and roads, before finally flying straight into a certain brunettes face on his way back from the shops.
âWhat on Earth?!â Wilbur grabbed at the piece of paper from his face prepared to throw it away before abruptly coming to a stop to read the bright, red scrawl across the front.
âOkay, interesting spelling.â Wilbur examined the poorly addressed letter.Â
It was obviously a lost Christmas letter written on what looked like sheet music from some kid judging by the spelling and array of doodles. Little faces in the Oâs to make it look like Santa, but obnoxiously written in capital letters to make it stand out. It made him think of Tommy and how he went into all the finer details of his life that he couldnât help but opt to read the childish letter and pique his growing curiosity.Â
Dear Santa
Hi, it's Tommy! TommyInnit the Borrower you spoke to on Christinimass Eve. Iâm sure I donât need to explain which Tommy to you being the most amazing Tommy to exist ever but anyways Iâm writing this letter to ask for your help.
Firstly, thank you for all the pogger gifts. Theyâre all so AWESOME so thank you! (Like seriously, you are the Greatest Man alive- After me of course >:3 )
Anyways, the reason I sent you this letter. You know Wilbitch Wilbur? The Human Bean that kidnapped me? Well Iâve decided to be the bigger man and befriend him despite him kidnapping me and destroying my home (You know itâs still in his living room slowly dying? Weirdo).
Thing is, I donât really know how to do that. I know you said I can trust him, but Iâm still scared of what he might do to me if he finds out Iâve been using and taking his stuff. I know his schedule by heart at this point and wait till he leaves to get anything done outside the walls, but ever since talking to you Iâve felt so lonely. I loved talking to you but I know I canât do that with you all the time so Iâm willing to give the Bean a chance.Â
Do you have any ideas for how I can talk to him?
Thank you for your help and if you do this I wonât even ask for a Christmas present this year!!! Seriously I wonât!!! I would just like a friend.
From the coolest Borrower ever,
-Tommy
P.S. Youâre the best.
Wilbur couldnât believe his eyes.
It- It was a letter to Santa, from Tommy.
His Tommy.
This was it! This was his in, his chance!!!
Wilbur carefully folded the letter back in half and slipped it into his trench coat pocket before hurrying home, formulating a plan of action the whole way. Finally he had a shot to befriend Tommy and there was no way he was going to waste it.
ŕźâ â
シ:*:・ â âË ď˝Ąâââ・Ëâ â âşââ
â âşâââ
Waiting.
Waiting..
More waitingâŚ
Great. Just great.
Wilbur couldnât help but keep his eyes glued to the clock on the class room wall. His leg bounced in anticipation as the minutes ticked by to the end of the day. He should really be listening to his lecturer, but it was almost impossible to do so when all the uni student could think of was getting home as quickly as possible.
The only way to catch Tommy would be by surprise, and to do that would be to break his schedule.Â
Wilbur couldnât lie and say he didnât love a well structured schedule. It was the only way he found he really ever got anything done and if sticking to his timed out plan was the way to do that, then so be it. Sometimes that meant postponing other things like hangouts and was a pain, but right now it was his ticket to meeting one Borrower.Â
His Plan- Get home an hour earlier than normal by skipping study and hope to catch Tommy in the open.
Okay, so yes the whole plan was just one big gamble. Itâs not like he got home at exactly the same time every day so he doubted Tommy was going to be out borrowing still even if he was home early, but itâs the best idea heâs got. The letter said Tommy knew his schedule so being early was rarity for him. Itâs not going to hurt to give it a try.Â
Heâll either see Tommy, or he wonât.Â
Wilbur idly traced the words of Tommy's letter as he sat and waited for his lecturer to signal the end of class. So much energy and bright smiles were hidden beneath the red writing and he wanted to know it all.Â
After what felt like an eternity, his lecture finally ended and the brunette wasted no time in gathering up his things and racing out the door. He didnât really need to sprint home, especially given that the roads were still a bit icy, but there was no time to waste.Â
It only took a matter of minutes for him to reach the end of his street, huffing and panting. He took his time walking down to his house allowing himself to catch his breath and recompose himself for the task at hand.Â
This was a stealth operation. No loud noises allowed.
Wilbur treaded lightly up to his front door, taking out his keys holding the key chains tight to prevent any jingling sounds before slipping the key in the lock. He turned the key as slowly as he dared, opening the door in a similar manner, before poking his head inside the door frame, eyes immediately looking to spots he thought the small borrower child might be hiding.Â
No signs of Tommy.
Wilbur crept into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a loud click. âShoot.â he muttered before slapping a hand over his mouth sharply, before realising his mistake as he cringed at the slight stinging pain now blooming across his jaw.Â
âDonât talk, you idiot!â Wilbur internally chastised himself.Â
Ignoring his first blunder, Wilbur quietly shuffled across the carpet to peek into the living room. Nothing appeared out of place, and Tommyâs spot on the book shelf remained as empty as ever.Â
âNot here,â Wilbur thought as he turned and tiptoed across the hallway. âTry the kitchen. Just slow and steady, keep quiet, move slow and steady and- âCREAKKKKKKKâ An old floorboard groaned loudly as it took the manâs weight.Â
âSo much for stealth.â
Holding onto a sliver of hope he hadnât messed up, Wilbur peered into the kitchen. Just like the living room, everything remained untouched and just the same as ever. Wilbur sighed heavily, dropping his bag loudly in defeat. If Tommy had been here, there was no way he hadnât heard that floorboard move.
Resigning himself to his failed efforts, Wilbur didnât bother to stay quiet as he trudged into the kitchen defeated. He flung the kitchen cupboard open, grabbing the BBQ crackers from the top shelf cracking the package open. He then grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and his bag from the floor before moving off to his room.Â
So his one and only plan didnât work, now what was he going to do? Guess heâd have to try and think of another time to break his schedule that wouldnât compromise his study life a different way.Â
The brunette sighed as he grabbed his phone, chucking on one of his favourite playlists and booting up his Bluetooth speaker. Might as well do some study since he skipped his study block back at the campus. It was as he sat down his stomach suddenly grumbled.Â
Oh, right- the crackers.
Wilbur rose from his chair and moved through the halls before abruptly coming to a stop and hiding behind the kitchen door. There was movement from the BBQ Crackers packet. The manâs breath got stuck in his throat as he watched a tiny blonde boy emerge from the packaging with a cracker looking extremely pleased with themself, as they set it down next to a little blue bag.Â
Tommy.
Wilbur couldnât help but stare as he watched the boy work. He should have known that Tommy would come out for food. It never occurred to him that he would try and get the discarded crackers when they were left out on the bench. It was dangerous for the Borrower considering he was home and could be seen, but it was easy access for the boy so of course the risk would be worth it.
With careful precision to avoid the creaky floorboards, Wilbur crept forward. Said blonde had crawled back into the Crackers packet and was distracted. He didnât want to scare Tommy away, but the boy was far too close to the electrical socket and heâd determined it was a wall entry/exit a while ago. The last thing he wanted was for Tommy to bolt.
It wasnât till he was about a step or two away that the Borrower popped back out of the bag with another cracker in tow.
It was now or never.
âAhem,â Wilbur cleared his throat and tried not to feel guilty, as he watched the Borrower on the bench flinch, stumbling back in surprise. âHi there.â
Wilbur remained completely still as he watched in anticipation for what the blonde would do next. Tommyâs face seemed to morph 100 different ways all at once before stopping at terrified as they processed the situation. The pure terror on the Borrowers face showed he knew there was no escaping this, as their eyes darted around trying to formulate the next best course of action despite their seemingly âdireâ situation, but Wilbur continued to remain calm.Â
He needed Tommy to understand he wasnât in danger.Â
The silence stretched on for a few more moments, only broken by the sound of the cracker Tommy had been clutching to his chest, snapping into several pieces. The borrower was so frightened for being caught, heâd subconsciously been clutching the cracker tighter and tighter till it snapped.Â
âCan I help with that?â Wilbur asked, pointing to the broken cracker in the boy's lap as he stepped closer.Â
Tommy was fast to react. The blonde sprung to his feet, cracker and equipment forgotten as they bolted for the electrical socket.
âNo wait, STOP!â Wilbur cried as lunged forward to stop the boy. Before he even realised what heâd done, heâd swept the Borrower up in his hand, the boy now kicking and screaming in his grasp.Â
âLET ME GO!!!â he shrieked as they dug and scratched their nails into Wilbur's skin.Â
Tommy felt the way the hand flexed as he did so, but his attempts werenât enough to get the man to budge. This was only the second time heâd ever been picked up by a human, and it was nothing like the way Santa had treated him. It felt far too tight and confining and Tommy wanted nothing more than to be free of it. Tommy always knew that Human Beans could be fast, but he never realised just how fast they actually might be.
His futile attempt to make it back to the walls had been wishful thinking at best. Now the very real threat of his head being popped off for being caught stealing the Bean's food had his heart hammering out of his chest. He was going to continue his plans of bloody murder, but as his stomach lurched and he was lifted up and away from the counter, all attempts died off as he was brought closer to his impending doom's face. He couldnât suppress the small whimper that slipped as his body shook as the Bean seemingly studied every inch of him, before their eyebrows furrowed.Â
âHey, hey itâs alright.â Wilbur reassured. âIâm not going to hurt you Tommy.â
Tommyâs blood ran cold.Â
How did he know his name?
No, no he couldnât have. Heâd been careful. Never seen, not once. There was no way Wilbur could have known he was here let alone his name right? Right???
âHow the heck do you know my name?â he spat.Â
Did this mean they knew he was here? Had the Bean been trying to lure him out this entire time just so they could trap him and punish him for taking their stuff?
âAhhh so about that..â Wilbur began before quickly adjusting his grip and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small, thin piece of paper with red scribbled all over it. âI got your letter. It didnât quite make it to the North Pole Iâm afraid.â
Tommy couldnât believe his eyes.
It was his letter to Santa.
All his worst fears were confirmed in the Beans grasp. If Wilbur had his letter then that meant he DEFINITELY had read it and would know everything!! As if magic wind was a real thing! Prime, why did he think writing to Santa when it was no longer Christmas would be a good idea?Â
âHey, hey itâs okay. Iâm not going to hurt you Tommy, I just want to talk honestly.â Wilbur tried to reassure as he placed the letter down. The boy only shook his head in response, trembling as they squeezed their eyes shut expecting the worst.
âOkay, I know youâre scared Tommy, but Iâve read your letter, and I just want to help you. You can trust me I-âÂ
âWHY SHOULD I TRUST YOU?!â The boy shrieked. âYOU SNATCHED ME OFF THE TABLE AND ARE HOLDING ME AGAINST MY WILL!â
âWell yes I know, and Iâm sorry. I didnât mean to grab you, I just didnât want you to run away!âÂ
âIf youâre really sorry then youâll let me go!â Tommy pleaded, tears starting to well up in his eyes. âPlease just let me go.â
Wilbur sighed, realising his terrific plan to speak to Tommy wouldnât get very far with their current circumstances. If the roles were reversed, heâd be rightly terrified out of his mind too. Youâd think after all his research on Borrowers, this is something heâd be aware of. Looking around the kitchen, he knew he couldnât just put them down on the bench and risk the boy making another run for it, and instead turned and headed for the dining room table, despite the boy's sniffling cries.
âTommy, Iâm going to put you down now.â Wilbur explained, trying to be gentle as he sat down on one of the wooden chairs. âI promise I wonât hurt you and you can leave straight after, I just want to talk.â
The boy didnât speak as he brought his hands down to the wooden surface and slowly released his grip. The blonde immediately wriggled out from his fingers and dropped to the table with a slight thud, but was just as quickly scooting away from his hands now he was free. Wilbur brought his hands away and slipped them under the table into his lap to be less intimidating, but could see Tommy was still highly on edge as they tried to gain distance. He was breathing heavily, eyes fixated on him with a terrified expression, seemingly knowing that he had no hope of getting away in the Beans presence.Â
He felt bad for putting them in such a vulnerable position, but if he wanted any hope to get him home, then they needed to talk properly- face to face.Â
âThere,â Wilbur said, retracting his hands placatingly. âSee, youâre fine.â
Tommy didnât look particularly convinced, his eyes red from crying and snot running down his nose. Like seriously, who did this guy think he was? After the way he just behaved, why should he trust him?
âDefine fine.â The boy snapped hugging himself as he turned away so he didnât have to face the brunette's constant staring.
Wilbur sighed. Why did he have to be so stubborn? Heâs the one that wanted to make friends in the first place.
Wilbur glanced at the letter heâd placed on the edge of the table. Tommy was the one that wanted to talk to him but was just unsure of how to approach him. But instead here heâd come waltzing in and frantically grabbed him without any consideration for how this would make him look. The boy believed Santa when he told him he was a good guy, but any truth in that was gone and rightfully so. In Tommyâs eyes, Wilbur didnât deserve to be trusted.Â
How could you trust someone that held your life in their hands?
Wilbur sighed as he knew how to fix this, as much as he didnât want to admit it, but if he wanted Tommy to trust him then his actions had to match his words.
âOkay so I know I didnât make the best first impression so how about we start over?â Wilbur tried even slinking down to be a bit lower so he wasnât looming over him so much. âMy names Wilbur and if you need anything you can just ask okay?âÂ
Tommy didnât reply, even going as far to give him the finger which had the man having to suppress a laugh despite it being fair. He waited for the blonde to speak up a little longer but it didnât seem the Borrower would be talking any time soon.
Sighing realising this wasnât going to work, Wilbur stood from the table and walked back to the kitchen. Tommy remained still only glancing a little bit to the side when he heard crackling of plastic, before the heavy foot falls of Wilbur's return signaled he was back before something was put down behind him, and a chair was dragged out and around from the table facing backwards.
âSo I donât blame you for not trusting me. I should have realised how my actions would have affected you so I wonât keep you any longer.â Wilbur stepped back from the table and around to the other side where Tommy could see him and towards the hallway back to his room.
âIâve uh- left the chair next to the table so you can get down with your hook and things, and I promise I wonât go looking for you, but if you ever need anything- please donât hesitate to ask.â Wilbur took a deep breath and exhaled as he rubbed the back of his head. âI hope in time, maybe we could be friends.â
After waiting for a reply and receiving none, Wilbur turned and walked into his room, closing the door with a soft click before walking over and flopping onto his bed. He couldnât force Tommy to trust him. He just had to hope giving them space might change the kids' mind.
The second the Bean was gone, Tommy didnât hesitate to grab his things and descend down the chair with his hook. He then booked it for the nearest wall entrance he could find and didnât stop running until he was back in his little room in the walls.Â
His heart pounded realising how close that had all been and now there was no time to waste.
Hastily he began to load his clothes into his bag and supplies for the journey he had ahead. He couldnât stay now Wilbur actively knew of his existence. Heâd been at the complete mercy of the Bean and that was never going to happen ever again. He kept doing this until he had completely stuffed his pack. As he prepared to leave he made his way to the door and had one final look around at his home for anything he missed.Â
He couldn't pick up on anything specific, not until his eyes landed on the card from Santa. All those happy days he had gotten from just waking up to a pretty card. His encounter with Santa the best day of his life and the reason he was so comfortable here now at all. The memory felt bitter sweet now though, as he trudged over to the card, picking it up harshly flipping it over for one last read.
Dear Tommy,
It was lovely meeting you and getting
to know your story. I figured you mightÂ
like some extra gifts as well to help you
be more comfortable in Wilburâs walls.
I think you should try talking to him.Â
You might be surprised.Â
Sincerely,
Santa Claus
P.S- Heâs not as scary as you think.
âNot as scary as you think my ass.â Tommy spat bitterly as he set it back in place.Â
So what if heâd apologised a bunch of times? That didnât change the fact he almost hadnât been freed at all. Sure heâd escaped now, but Wilbur might have just made it look like he was free to go as an act to trick him into feeling guilty enough to stay to catch him later.Â
But then again, he did apologise a lot and gave him a quick way back down the table. If he really thought about it, he hadnât looked like he was going to hurt him or anything, just guilty heâd grabbed him in the first place. In fact he hadnât really done anything besides scare the living daylights out of him by snatching him up.
It was perfectly logical for him to be scared of being grabbed, but apart from that, had the Bean actually done anything wrong? He was just reacting to the situation, and if he had read his letter, then maybe it wasnât as bad as he thought.Â
But no that canât be right? He canât seriously be considering Wilbur not a threat after all that?
âUghhhh my head hurts!â He groaned frustratedly before dropping his pack to the floor and flopping head first into his bed. Why do Human Beans never make sense? Tommy curled himself into the fabric squeezing the sock blanket tightly in his grasp. This was all far too much for him to think about right now.Â
The events of the day finally seemed to catch up to him as he laid there, adrenaline wearing off, replaced with a heavy fatigue. Perhaps sleeping would be better than trying to leave right this second? Who knew when heâd have another chance once he started the move.Â
Rather than fight it, Tommy soon fell asleep, snuggled in his bed, his thoughts dreaming of what ifs and Wilbur.
ŕźâ â
シ:*:・ â âË ď˝Ąâââ・Ëâ â âşââ
â âşâââ
The next day, Tommy had yet to leave.
Heâd spent most of the morning mulling over his options and what the best course of action was and was having a hard time making up his mind.
On the one hand, leaving meant he was 100% safe from Wilbur and whatever his plans might be, whether they be good intentions or not. But on the other hand, that meant giving up the space heâd spent so long getting right and traversing the winter terrain without a guarantee of finding a place that was safe to stay in. While the Bean knew of his presence, at least he had a warm bed and didnât have to worry about frostbite. But of course that still left one problem:Â
Wilbur.
The more he replayed yesterday's events over in his mind the more he wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe Wilbur was one of the good Beans. Itâs not like heâd ever met or interacted with one before he came here. Everything he knew of them came from stories and warnings from his parents about Borrowers getting trapped in Jars and what not, but there was always some truth in stories one way or another.Â
Still though, he had one thing going for him that no other Bean did. Santa trusted him. And while Tommy may not trust him, (not completely anyways) perhaps there was a way he could test them.
Tommy had his borrowing bag strapped to his back and his hook and rope at his side as he sat perched atop the bookshelf in the living room, watching and waiting for Wilbur to enter. Heâd test the Bean. See if he stayed true to his word and be in plain sight of the man and see if he was worthy of his presence. If he tried to catch him or hurt him in any way, all he had to do was get back through the crack in the wall and grab the rest of his things and book it out of there.
The blonde's knee bounced in anticipation. It was one thing trying not to be seen by a being 100x your size, but another to willingly just be waiting in the open for your maybe/maybe not demise to show up. Strange how the last time he stood out here, he did so waiting for Santa happily, but now it felt like he half wanted to throw up as he waited for the brunette to show.
His thoughts must have summoned him, because entered an exhausted Wilbur with a cup of coffee in hand before they plonked themself down on the couch. He took a long sip and sighed before putting the cup down and threw their head back against the couch.Â
He looked sad. Big dark bags under his eyes and he was frowning as he stared up at the ceiling. Tommy couldnât help but think that was probably his fault. Seems yesterday's events had affected Wilbur just as much as it had him and he did feel a bit guilty for that. Did he really care that much heâd lose sleep over him?Â
Only one way to find out.
âAhem.â Tommy cleared his throat and the Bean jolted up almost immediately, head looking around wildly for the source.Â
âHey, up here big man.â The boy called with a wave to down below and clenched his hook tightly with the other hand as the brunette's sweeping gaze snapped up onto him. âSorry if I- uh startled you.â
âNo, no itâs fine, I just- I thought you left.â Wilbur said as he turned himself to be better facing the Borrower without leaving the couch.Â
âWhy would I do that?â Tommy asked even though he knew the answer.Â
âWell, I donât know I just thought- Iâd scared you away.â Wilbur looked away, staring at his coffee as if it was far more interesting than the boy on his shelf. âI figured youâd have left because of how I- how I um..â
âGrabbed me?â Tommy asked, raising a brow as he did so.
âYeah⌠I truly am sorry about that. I never should have reacted like that. I donât know what I was thinking. I promise I never planned to do anything to you when I did, I just- my hand moved without thinking and yeah. Iâm sorry Tommy.âÂ
âIt wasnât particularly nice of you.â Tommy tried to ignore the tingly sensation of phantom hands wrapping around him as he stood up. âI just felt so helpless when you did.âÂ
Wilbur nodded sadly in agreement. âYeah I canât imagine what it must feel like for you. Based on what I read in your letter, it must be really hard living at your size when everything is so big.â
âWell I was born this way. I learned to live cautiously to protect myself. You Beans are just too busy thinking of yourselves than about who else might be living out of sight.â Tommy glanced down to Wilbur and noticed how the Bean twiddled their thumbs in their lap, gaze now resting on the table and a familiar piece of paper. His Letter.
âHey Iâve got to ask,â Tommy started as Wilbur brought his head back up to the shelf. âHow did you get your hands on my letter? Last I saw it, it was flying out in the wind randomly to who knows where.â
Wilbur chuckled as he leaned over and picked up the letter carefully to admire the craftsmanship of it once more. âWell, I was walking home from grocery shopping the other day and it kind of just flew into my face. It was by chance that I decided to open it and read it that I noticed the paper was one of my discarded music sheets I use for scrap paper. Kind of connected the dots from there since it was my work and here we are.â
Tommy nodded as he listened. He supposed that made more sense than magic wind, even if the chances of it flying into Wilbur's face were bizarrely low.Â
âStill a shame it didnât make it to Santa. I wanted to thank him properly for what he did for me.â
âYou could always write him another letter if you want.â Wilbur suggested. âI donât mind helping you if you like.âÂ
Tommy nodded considering the idea before speaking up. âI think you might have to write to Santa for yourself though. Youâll probably be on his naughty list for a while when I tell him about everything thatâs happened.âÂ
Wilbur smiled as he nodded in agreement. âYeah I deserve that. Iâll have to really work hard to get back on the nice list then wonât I?â
âYou sure will. Gonna take a lot to get back in his good books though.âÂ
Wilbur smiled as he set the letter back down and leaned back into the couch. âDo you have any ideas on how I could do that?â
Tommy scratched his head for a moment in thought.
âWell for starters youâd have to be extra nice and always use proper manners like asking before you do something.âÂ
Wilbur nodded as the boy continued. âAnd youâd have to always announce your presence coming in and out of rooms cause if you donât thatâs just rude.â
Wilbur couldnât help but chuckle as Tommy kept listing nice specific things off. âAnything else?â
âAnnnnd always leave extra food out on the counters- specifically the BBQ crackers and chocolate because thatâs how you show you're being extra nice.â
âRight, well it sounds like Iâve got my work cut out for me then.â Wilbur replied as he looked back up to where Tommy stood upon the shelf. The boy seemed rather pleased with himself before he realised he was in sight and timidly stepped back from view.Â
âIâve got to ask though, why are you still here? I assumed the last place youâd want to be is anywhere near me and well, yeah.â It was a question that was starting to eat at him as why the Borrower would go against the code and all the other things he had read about not making sense.
âWell initially, I was going to leave straight away, yes. But with all the snow on the ground and not knowing the area, it made the decision of leaving more complicated so Iâm giving talking one last shot and then deciding.âÂ
Wilbur smiled as he felt warm that the blonde was at least giving him a chance, even if they had their hesitations. He didnât blame Tommy for being wary after everything that had transpired but maybe there was still hope to salvage things.
âHey Tommy, do you think maybe we could start over?â the brunette asked. âI think we got off on the wrong foot and Iâd really like to show I mean you know harm.âÂ
Tommy stood back from the shelf edge where he couldnât see the Bean. This was exactly what he wanted. A chance for the Bean to prove himself and he hadnât even had to ask.Â
Wilbur watched the bookshelf nervously waiting for a response. What if heâd over stepped? He didnât have to wait long for an answer as the blonde came back into view with his arms behind his back, before breaking into a smile.
âYeah, that would be nice. But donât even think about putting me in a jar cause I know Santa and Santa will absolutely beat your ass if you do.âÂ
âAnd why would he do that?â Wilbur smirked teasingly.
âBecause,â Tommy stated. âIâm his favourite.â
Wilburâs heart melted as the boy blew a raspberry at him before pulling a bunch of different faces. In a way, he guessed it was true.Â
Tommy was his favourite.
And he wasnât going to mess this opportunity up a second time.
ŕźâ â
シ:*:・ â âË ď˝Ąâââ・Ëâ â âşââ
â âşâââ
In the days to come, Wilbur and Tommy began to slowly get to know each other.Â
Albeit at a distance with Tommy still hiding on shelves and behind items that he was sort of a discombobulated voice, but it was a start and made the Borrower feel safer.
Wilbur didnât mind in the slightest as they were actually talking and making progress! If Wilbur thought Tommy had talked a lot on their Santa encounter, well the kid had certainly been holding back as they chatted away about anything and everything they could speak on.
In fact, soon the two were bantering back and forth like theyâd been life long friends and it didnât take long for Tommy to start showing himself on the shelves.Â
Wilbur was always super cautious around the boy and made sure to give him space, and even gave him extra warning about what he was doing to ease the boy more around his presence. While Tommy initially had his reservations, he was quickly beginning to see what Santa had meant in his card.Â
Wilbur truly was doing everything he possibly could to show he wanted to help him and be friends and that gave Tommy the confidence to take the next step and actually be in close proximity with the man rather than the safety of shelves.Â
Eventually, Tommy would tell Wilbur of how he came to be in his apartment and Wilbur would offer to take Tommy back to his home. It didnât take long for the boy to realise how close heâd actually grown to the Bean and when the time came to actually go, the Borrower would decide that maybe the Forest wasnât necessarily his home any more.Â
From there, the two continued to grow closer and eventually table talks turned to movie nights on the couch, to hand cuddles on chilly days. And whenever things got too much, Wilbur gave Tommy the space he needed and one day Tommy realised that Santa was right.
Wilbur wasnât as scary as he once believed.Â
In fact, he finally had a friend he could depend on.
Just like he had always wanted.
ŕźâ â
シ:*:・ â âË ď˝Ąâââ・Ëâ â âşââ
â âşâââ
Annnnnnnnnnnnd that's a wrap!!!
Thank you so much if you read the whole thing through. It was a lot of fun to write as it's not the kind of topic I see written about very often and especially not in a gt sense so I loved exploring what Santa is to a Borrower that lived outside most of their life never knowing about these things.
HUGE Thank you to @quotemenevervore for beta reading and helping me get unstuck to write the ending!!! Always very thankful for your input and so glad I got this done before Christmas like I planned <3
Thanks again to everyone who's stuck around and continues to enjoy my writing despite all the circumstances of previous creators constantly changing. As times gone on, while I still really enjoy writing these characters, new ideas to use them in the future have certainly been becoming less, so I still fully intend to finish JORNOS but after that's done, I have one more chapter fic I want to post and then I think I might explore some new characters. Dunno yet tbh. Work is being a pain and will probably continue to delay new stuff, but I'm certainly not done yet :3
Anyways that's my last fic for this year so Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and I'll see you all on the next fic <3
tag list: @local-squishmallow @brick-a-doodle-do @justarandomsloth @veryfunkycheesecake @munchkin1156 @kayla-crazy-stuffs @da3dm @eiscreme135 @orchid-harmony @the-tiny-lurker @colossal-red @nobodywritingao3 @nata2343 @bad-author777 @box-beanz @gracideaviolet @a-xyz-s
#beckyu writes#beckyu but on ao3#my writing#tiny!tommy#borrower!tommy#giant!wilbur#human!wilbur#mcyt gt#mcyt g/t#dsmp gt#dsmp g/t#mcyt gt community#mcyt g/t community#giant tiny#giant/tiny#gt#g/t#gt writing#g/t writing#gt community#g/t community#so my tags all the timeeee qwp#I'm sowwwyyyyyyy#borrowers
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Munchkin does fanart!!!! (should I make that a separate tag?... Eh.)
This is for the Dear Little Brother fic by Crystallis4Life on ao3
The quality may have died a bit, and I'm not too proud of the background, but I think it turned out pretty good overall! :D
Taglist under cut:
@i-am-beckyu, @brick-a-doodle-do, @da3dm, @faeiyn-cant-write, @boiled-ginger-ale (if you want to be tagged, please tell me so I can add you!!)
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Ok I'm writing a oneshot and can't decide something for it...so I'm gonna give a list with no explanation, take your vote! Only thing I'll share is it's g/t. Pls reblog this?
I need @brick-a-doodle-do , @i-am-beckyu , @justarandomsloth and honestly @rosewriting-ao3 bc you wanted tagged on writing and this is part of it so...hope it's ok rose
Halp me spread it and get a result...
#the talking dead#my characters#dead polls#gt#gianttiny#g/t#giant#tiny#gt community#g/t writing#g/t community#sfw g/t#sfw giant/tiny#sfw gt#polls#ocs
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I do believe that @brick-a-doodle-do , @i-am-beckyu , you squishy, @rosewriting-ao3 , and @justarandomsloth are awesome writers
REBLOG if you have amazing, talented WRITER friends.
Because I certainly do, and I love every single one of them and their work.
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Shameful Company [ch 2]
masterpost | previous | next
The village Tommy grew up in was located in a beast's territory, a man eating serpent's. Isolated from the world, all he's ever known is loneliness. When he's forced outside the safety of the town walls he meets a stranger who claims to live beyond the village. They become fast friends despite the fact that the man is clearly hiding something - but can you really blame Tommy? He's never had a friend before.
CW for entire fic: - Wilbur eats people lol - swearing title taken from 'Shameful Company' by Rainbow Kitten Surprise inspired by the talented @beckyu and her story 'My Monster to Slay' (tumblr) (AO3)
word count: 3.5k đ read it on AO3
The routine keeps up for little more than a week.
Tommy is always sent out the same day he comes back. He and Wilbur dick around the forest or relax in the cave until sunset, which they watch from the entrance with warm mugs of tea. They stay up talking and the next morning, they wake up slowly, lounging around until well past noon. Wilbur insists he return to the village and Tommy argues itâs a waste of time since heâll just get kicked out again. They go back and heâs proven right. Wilbur waits in the clearing and they spend the rest of the day in each otherâs company.
Itâs actually really fun. Itâs the most connection heâs ever felt in his memory, and as far as he can tell, Wilbur appreciates the friendship as much as Tommy does.
Which is why heâs confused (and yeah, okay, a little hurt) that Wilbur sends him back, over and over and over again. Not to be clingy but - for fuckâs sake - at the very least, Wilbur could be a bit less vehement about it.
Itâs disorienting too - Wilbur has admitted that he spends around three hours waiting for Tommy, and everytime they meet, his eyes light up and he smiles. The mixed signals are confusing. Itâs a complicated layer to the friendship Tommy canât help trying to mentally untangle.
Like - why is it such a big deal that he leave each day?
The villagers donât want him - theyâre still holding out hope heâll get eaten in the woods for goodnessâ sake. Not only is it pointless to send him âhome,â but - Tommy wants to stay, as embarrassing as it is to admit. Not that heâd ever dream of asking to live in the cave, Tommyâs man enough to admit he doesnât have the balls. Truthfully, he wishes Wilbur would offer.
He hates the village. Everything about it, from the way the citizens are terrified and brainwashed and revere Dream like heâs a fucking god, to its deep and unwavering hostility. People have always regarded him as an outcast, but the shunning has worsened dramatically now that heâs a repeat survivor of the Outside.
He just wants to stay with Wilbur, in the cave in the woods.
Thereâs a part of him, a self loathing little piece of his brain that tells him thereâs something wrong with him. The village sees it, the council sees it. Either Wilburâs already seen it and heâs too good a person to reject Tommy directly, or heâll see it soon and heâll cast him away then.
He tries to shrug it off.
Normally, he can say with clarity where he stands with someone. The townsfolk donât care for his wellbeing. No matter how convincing they are, or how convinced of their own lies they are, he can see through them. But Wilbur is confusing. Heâs nothing like the villagers. He has his own interests at heart, while theyâve had their self preservation and agency stamped out by Dream and the rest of the council. Wilburâs got his own agenda and his secrets, and heâs a bad liar. He acts like he cares about Tommy, but he does things to contradict that. Like sending him away everyday.
He mulls over these thoughts as he sits on the ground next to the gates, doodling in a little pad of paper Wilbur had gifted him. Tommyâs got another twenty minutes until heâll be released, and the man is undoubtedly waiting for him in the clearing.
Gravel crunches to his left - footsteps - and he looks up. Dream approaches him, smiling friendly in a way that doesnât reach his eyes.
Tommyâs stomach starts to twist into knots. âHello,â he greets casually, âare you here to see me off?â
He reminds himself that Dream canât hurt him directly, not until heâs eighteen.
Heâs safe. Heâs safe. Heâs safe.
(Heâs not.)
Dream looks at him with something appraising and cold in his eyes, though heâs still giving his best smile. âUnfortunately not, Iâm afraid I have a meeting in ten minutes with the council, though I wish you luck,â he laughs. Itâs soft, and a little dark. But in a way that only Tommy ever seems to notice. He continues affectedly, âbut it seems I donât need to! Youâve shown to be very⌠lucky.â
Thereâs a million things Tommy could say. He could tell Dream to shut up with the villain monologue, to just cut to the chase. Or he could go bigger, and scream at him. Tell him heâs a manipulative sadist who feeds on the attention, fearful and loving, of two hundred people because heâs empty and cold and knows no one would ever love him if they saw him for what he is.
But he wonât say those things. Itâs pointless. And Dream would just feed on it and use it to fuck with him even more. Honestly, even thinking of comebacks makes him tired.
So he smiles instead. âIndeed sir,â he responds plainly. âIâve been fortunate.â
Something changes in Dreamâs demeanor.
Tommy instantly knows he said the wrong thing.
After a gap of silence, he coolly responds, âDonât be coy.â
Tommy blinks. He has no idea what to say. Hesitantly, he asks, âExcuse me?â
Dream ignores him. âHow did you do it?â
Terror works itself under his skin. Dream holds all the cards. Itâs his town, his people. If heâs being openly hostile and not just passive aggressive, then the only way this ends is after heâs gotten what he wants from Tommy, scaring and humiliating him in the process.
He just needs to comply - he just has to let it happen. And then in twenty minutes, he can go. He can see Wilbur. He can leave this behind and pretend it didnât happen and itâll be like it didnât.
âSir,â he begins softly, âIâm not sure what you mean - â
âYes. You do.â
Tommy falls silent, paralyzed in fear.
âHow did you survive?â Dream begins. Heâs using that voice that Tommyâs learned means he already knows the answer, and is only prying for a confession for the sake of feeling powerful. To knock someone down and rip their dignity and worth and personhood to shreds.
Tommy would let him. Heâd offer up whatever heâs looking for if it meant this interrogation would end. He always wins, so why draw it out? But he doesnât know what Dream wants to hear. He doesnât know what Dream thinks he did. Tears gather in his eyes.
Dream grows impatient. And he starts talking. âHow did you avoid being eaten up by that thing? And after that - how did you avoid the hundreds of other beasts in the forest?â
Tommy brings his knees to his chest and curls his hands protectively around his legs. He doesnât want Dream to see him shaking. He needs to say something, admit to something. But he doesnât know what to say, and thereâs no way in hell heâs dragging Wilbur into this.
âCome on, Tommy, itâs not that fucking difficult,â Dream insists, âjust tell me the truth - I wonât be mad.â
Nothing. Thereâs nothing.
His tears spill over. All he can do is cry.
Dream heaves a sigh above him. âI gave you a chance.â
Tommyâs shoulders shake with the effort of holding back sobs.
âSeriously? Nothing?â
He desperately swings his head from side to side. He wants Dream to believe him, to just show a little mercy, but he knows that he wonât. He wants to apologize but he doesnât trust himself to speak.
âYou met the serpent,â Dream finally supplies.
Tommyâs too distraught to even process the words. He gulps down the sobs and wipes at his face, he needs to respond, he needs to respond before Dream gets impatient -
âAnswer me.â
Through sharp sobs, Tommy chokes out, âN - no. I didnât, of - of course I didnât, Iâd be dead if I - â
âFor fuckâs sake, Tommy, cut the shit,â he curls his upper lip in disgust, âI can smell it - I can smell him - all over you.â
What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the -
âYour little friend, or - â he chuckles humorlessly, turning away in agitation, âbig friend, I suppose - he thinks he can just claim you? Protect you? That isnât this this works,â he spits resentfully, âyouâd do good to tell him that. You are mine, you belong to me. I gifted you to him as a meal - not as a pet! You tell him that - you better fucking tell him that.â
Tommyâs mouth hangs open, crying halted in favor of shock. Dreamâs always been a bit⌠loose, but it looks like heâs finally lost his shit completely.
Irritated at his silence, Dream faces Tommy. Rather than get angrier or rant more to fill the silence, itâs like he lights up. And thatâs possibly the scariest thing heâs done so far.
âOhâŚâ he says softly. âThatâs beautiful - thatâs fucking rich. You didnât know, did you?â His mouth curls up in a cruel smile and he starts to laugh, wheezes building louder and louder. âOh - that is too fucking good!â He collects himself. âWell in that case,â he says between giggles, âjust forget we talked, yeah? If he wants to play with his food for a bit, I suppose I canât judge -â he gestures to the town with wide arms, â- I set up camp here, didnât I?â Dream turns and leaves, still laughing to himself.
Twelve minutes later, the gates open and Tommy is set free.
~
Sitting on one of the beds in the cave, Tommy gives Wilbur a grateful smile as he wraps a warm quilt around his shoulders. Â
When Tommy had met him in the clearing, eyes red and cheeks blotchy, Wilbur had hugged him hard and pried for details, listening to Tommy recount the events as they traveled back to the cave. Heâd made up warm teas and sweet foods for Tommy to snack on, and heâd practically buried him in the softest bedding around the little home. He promised they were safe here.
Sinking into the spot next to him, Wilbur gently asks, âDid he say anything else?â
Tommy shrugs hopelessly. âNo, that was it.â He idly stirs his tea. âI think - I think thereâs something wrong with him. Like, medically,â he emphasizes.
Wilbur wears a troubled expression. âAnd youâre sure he said - â
âYes, I am,â Tommy says exasperatedly. âTrust me, he fully thinks that Iâm friends with the serpent or something.â
Wilbur nods in acknowledgement and sips at his tea with a funny look on his face. âAnd heâs your mayor?â
He gesticulates vaguely. âBasically. Weâve got a bit of a weird system in place - I donât know how much Iâve told you, but weâve got a council of town leaders, and Dream is the boss.â
Wilbur suddenly gets an odd look on his face, like he realized something. âTommyâŚâ he asks carefully, âwhatâs the history of your village? Like - this isnât exactly a welcoming environment for civilization.â
Tommy smiles emptily. âYeah, it really isnât,â he agrees.
He taps the rim of his mug, thinking over the things heâd heard as a child. âFrom my understanding, the original settlers had been fleeing from something when their navigator took a wrong turn. By the time the group realized, it had wandered into a basilisks's territory and it was too late to turn around. A bunch of people were attacked and eaten. Fights broke out about what to do, if leaving the forest was a viable option or not, that kind of thing. Eventually the navigator took responsibility and promised to start a fortified town in the forest to protect the remaining survivors. He founded the council, we claimed a bit of land, the walls were built up,â Tommy concludes. âWil, how is this relevant?â
That look crosses his face - the stupid one he gets whenever heâs keeping secrets or about to tell the shittiest lie in history, and Tommy feels a spike of irritation.
He bites down his frustration and looks away. âNevermind,â he mutters, a little harsher than he meant it. He feels Wilbur look at him in concern, but he doesnât acknowledge it. He clears his throat. âDo you need to know anything else?â he tries to ask as neutrally as possible.
He can tell Wilbur wants to ask whatâs bothering him. He bites the inside of his cheek and takes a long sip of tea, hoping he gets the message.
Wilbur eyes him worriedly, but thankfully he doesnât probe. Instead he asks, âWho was the navigator?â
It catches him off guard. âWhat?â
âThe person who got the group lost, who founded the council. What was his name? Do you know anything about him?â
He searches his memory. Thatâs so strange. Itâs a detail that no oneâs ever mentioned or asked for. But itâs also a very central thing - to the story, to the townâs history.
Wilbur takes his silence as some kind of answer, mumbling to himself, âRight, well this complicates some things.â
Theyâre silent for a few seconds, Wilbur solving a mystery while Tommy finds the first clues. Heâs tempted to ask whatâs going on. Itâs unnerving, and something is clearly wrong, but he dismisses the thought out of hand. If itâs connected to the bullshit Wilbur is so secretive about - which Tommy is entirely sure it is - then he wouldnât share if pressed.
Wilbur breaks him from his thoughts. âTommy, you said that after the original settlers came in, they couldnât leave because of a basilisk? Are you sure about that?â
Tommy nods. âYeah⌠itâs the one I was worried about when we met, the same one that ate Jared?â
Wilbur falls silent, that guilty look on his face again. Tommy stares at him, trying to pick him apart with his eyes. Heâs hiding something again.
He takes a shot in the dark and guesses, feigning surprise - Â âHoly shit, itâs a different serpent, isnât it?â
Wilbur looks up in panic. âWhat?!â
âYou saw Jared being eaten - what species of serpent was it?â
Wilbur stares at Tommy.
âWas it not a basilisk?â
Wilbur breaks eye contact and looks away. âTommy, thatâs - thatâs fucking ridiculous mate, I donât know what youâre - â
Something breaks inside of him. Maybe years of mistreatment at the hands of his village, or days of Wilburâs dogshit lying - possibly the confrontation with Dream earlier that day - in any case, it pushes him over the edge and he snaps. âWould it actually fucking kill you to tell me the truth?â
Wilbur moves back in surprise, a hurt look flashing across his face.
âYouâre not even a good liar, and I know because youâve been lying to me since we met. Every day weâve known each other, youâve lied to me, or deflected, or avoided answering some basic fucking question about your life. I thought maybe IÂ was the problem, but no - the truth is youâre just a liar,â Tommy rants, breathing hard and blinking back tears.
Wilbur stares at him with a stunned look on his face. âTommy, Iâm⌠Iâm sorry. â Heâs bleedingly sincere.
Fucking good, Tommy miserably thinks to himself.
He sniffles. âIf you want to lie about your life - then fine. Maybe itâs traumatic, and maybe itâs personal. I wouldnât know, and I donât have to. But this is different, âcause itâs a fucked up situation, and I am as in it as you are.â
They sit in uncomfortable, tense silence for a few seconds, punctuated only by Tommyâs quiet crying.
After a moment, Wilbur says softly, âIâve been a bit of an ass, havenâ t I?â
âYeah, you have been,â Tommy bitterly agrees.
He seems to physically wilt. âThereâs nothing wrong with you, and Iâm sorry that I made you feel that way. Iâm really, really sorry, Sunshine.â
Tommyâs chin trembles. He can feel tears start to spill over.
Wilbur loops an arm around his torso and gently pulls him in for a side hug. âTo tell you the truth - I want to share. A lot more than I do. And I also feel upset that I keep secrets from you.â
âThen why?â Tommy barely chokes out.
Wilbur sighs and presses a kiss to the crown of his head. âBecause itâs better that way.â He readjusts the quilt around Tommyâs shoulders. âItâs better for everyone if you just donât know some things about me.â
Tommy rubs at his face miserably. He knew it would go like this.
âThat said, I see where youâre coming from.â Tommy looks up in surprise and Wilbur offers him a sheepish smile. âYouâre right about this. This is a deeply fucked up situation and for your own safety, there are things you deserve to know.â
He looks away, thinking. âYou were right, there are two serpents⌠I shouldnât have lied about that.â
Damn. He wasnât actually expecting to be right.
âYour village is about four decades old, right?â
He nods.
Wilbur goes quiet for a second. Resignation creeping into his voice, he says, âThe second serpent - itâs only twenty-two years old.â He starts to fidget with the ends of his sweater sleeves anxiously. âThatâs the one thatâs been eating all the volunteers for the past two decades. Itâs not the basilisk that trapped the original settlers in this forest - honestly, I didnât even know of a basilisk having territory here until youâd said something. And I donât know what happened to it exactly - â
âBut you have a suspicion?â Tommy finishes, voice still a little raspy from crying.
Wilbur nods, a little perturbed.
âIs it a suspicion youâll tell me?â
Wilbur smiles sadly at him. Tommy knows the answer before he has a chance to say it. âSorry mate.â
Trying to move past the disappointment, Tommy changes the subject. âHow do you know all that about the second serpent? Youâre only twenty-something yourself, so itâs not like you could have been around the whole time to see it - â
âTommy,â Wilbur cuts in, exhaustion audible in his voice, âplease just trust me on this, alright?â He shakes his head slowly, a fond but heartbroken look on his face. âI swear - youâre too clever for your own good.â
Despite everything, the comment starts a warm feeling in his chest. Tommy relents. âFine, fine. You somehow have all this information - I wonât question how.â
He nods gratefully.
âBut I do want to know - what species is the second serpent?â
He figured Wilbur would be a bit cagey about answering, but he didnât expect - this.Â
Itâs like heâs imploding before Tommyâs eyes. A look of panic flashes across his face before he has a chance to school it into something more neutral.
Wilbur looks at him. His expression is conflicted. Itâs full of barely concealed loss, and guilt, and pity, and it is so, so guarded.
Wordlessly, Wilbur pulls him in for a solid, warm hug. He does nothing but breathe and hold Tommy for ten seconds.
When he pulls away, his eyes are glassy and heâs forcing a smile. âDo you remember what I said to you when I was bringing you back to the village that first day? When you asked me how Iâve survived this long in the forest?â
Tommy nods, confused and a little worried. âYou said youâd⌠âtell me your secretsâ when Iâm older.â
Wilbur affectionately rubs his shoulder. âAnd I will.â He clears his throat and stands up.
âTo answer your question, the second serpent is⌠Itâs nothing you have to worry about, okay?â He offers Tommy a sincere, pleading look. âBelieve me - to you, itâs harmless. Completely harmless.â
~
The next morning Wilbur is in an uncharacteristically good mood. He gives Tommy a soft smile and ruffles his hair before tugging him out of bed and leading him to the dining table for breakfast.
Tommy takes a seat and begins to cut his portions while watching Wilbur curiously. âWake up on the right side of the bed?â
He laughs lightly. âSomething like that. Um - actually, I need to talk to you about something.â
Tommy tries not to let his concern show. âYeah?â
Wilbur nervously takes a sip of water. âAfter everything we talked about yesterday, particularly what you said about Dream, the basilisk - I donât think itâs safe for you to go back home.â He gesticulates nervously and starts to ramble, âFor right now, I mean - ! You might be able to go back soon, Iâm just worried about you for right now, and I wouldnât feel very comfortable if I knew you were anywhere near - â
âWilbur,â Tommy cuts in, âare you asking if Iâll stay at the cave for a while?â
He nods shakily, a fear of rejection written plainly across his face.
Tommy smiles at him widely. âThat sounds great. Thank you.â
~
That afternoon, they donât send Tommy back to the village.
~ ~ ~
it is simply a staple of my writing that everything i start ends up four times longer than i originally intended...
hope you guys enjoyed
#tiny!tommy#giant!wilbur#naga!wilbur#mcyt gt#mcyt g/t#mcyt fanfic#adoption#angst#fluff#fantasy au#nobody writes#sc (fanfic)
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apapapappaaaahhhhh backgrounds are hard but i didn't want to leave it white. i'm so tired but the doodles oooohhhh the doodles !!
taglist: @da3dm, @krazycat49, @rosewriting-ao3, @i-am-beckyu, @skullsnbruises (LMK IF YOU ONLY WANNA BE TAGGED FOR FICS I CAN TOTALLY DO THAT!)
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One Small Gift
HELLO! I TOLD YOU I'D POST ONE MORE FIC THIS YEAR! And I am very proud of myself for making it a Christmas centered fic! I can't believe it's actually been a year since I last posted a Christmas fic. Like where did the time go and how did this thing spawn?
I'm gonna ramble a bit more at the bottom of this fic about me and the community but lets not hold you up any longer so I give you: The Christmas Fic- One Small Gift :3 (This fic now has a Part 2!!! Link Here )
cw: fear, death mention (but no actual death), lying, panic and anxiety, fluff- Like, ALOT of Fluff, hidden identity and of course happy endings. You know, the usual angst/fluffy Beckyu fic :3 word count: 8351
Disclaimer! This story is based on the characters of the Dream SMP and not the real life content creators. Anything that occurs in this story is purely fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you.
.・â
*ââ*â*・*â*ââ*â
・.
Cold
Why did the walls always have to be so damn cold?Â
Tommyâs mind couldnât help but linger on the thought, as the Borrower shivered making his way through the maze that was the inside the house walls.
Human Beans invented heaters AGES ago for the insides of their houses to keep warm, so how was it that the inside of the walls were still always so flippen freezing?Â
Would it kill them to think of the little guy freezing their butt off just once?
Well no, maybe not. But it certainly would Tommy.Â
As much as the young blonde would love to cuss at the home owner for not giving him a proper source of heat, the Borrowers code quite literally FORBID them from ever telling a Human of their existence. Not to forget the fact that it would mean doom for a borrower if they ever did. All the horror stories of Borrowers being squished or experimented on from the elders to go off being proof enough.
Death by Human Beans?
HA! Absolutely NOT!
Thatâs exactly the reason why he is trying to get supplies for the Winter to warm himself up, before it gets even colder!Â
Tommy grumbled to himself as he ducked and weaved past forgotten cobwebs about how it was such a pain to be in this position in the first place. Heâd had a perfectly fine home in a tree nook in the forest that had always remained nice and cosy warm during the colder months.Â
Even if that meant heâd been living on his own, Tommy had been happy living as an Outie borrower for as long as he could remember. Well at least he had, before some tall, pretentious brunette freak decided his home would be the perfect tree to cut down and drag all the way back to his stupid freezing cold house.Â
But it gets better, because even though the main part of his home was actually still intact under the now stump, the Bean still took the top half of the tree-Â
With Tommy still inside it!Â
They flippen took HIS house and wrapped it in a net; effectively trapping the poor borrower and then strapped it to the top of their car and drove hours and hours to a Human Town with him hanging on for dear life.
And thatâs not even the worst part because not only did the flippen Bean steal part of his house, but then they had the audacity to cover the tree's dying corpse in fancy decorations and shining lights.Â
Like seriously WTF?!
A Bean kidnaps him from the only place heâs ever really known and covers his once thriving residence all merrily in ornaments, while heâs forced to flee his only real known place of safety with nothing but the clothes on his back, and the few supplies he did have stored in the upper levels of his now dying home. He hadnât wanted to leave, but it was the only choice he really had.Â
Stay in the tree and get caught, or try and survive in the Beans' walls until Winter passes.
He chose the latter of course- (Itâs not like staying would have helped him anyways)Â
Getting down from the top of the tree had been, well- less than a fun time for the Borrower. The big purple bruises across his back were a throbbing reminder from his impact on the floor at times, but he managed.Â
Instead, Tommy had started to navigate his temporary âsoon to be homeâ in the walls getting an idea of the layout and where the best places were to borrow from. He just had to make it through the Winter and then he could go home. Trying to get back to his nook now would be impossible with all the snow cover on the ground, but heâd get back to the forest even if it killed him.
Which might be the case soon if he doesnât get some new clothes and heat source quick.
That was the main issue with being kidnapped after all. You only have whatâs on your back and well, Tommy hadnât exactly been expecting to get yoinked away in his scrappy T-Shirt and shorts. He had proudly made them himself with the few scraps of fabric heâd managed to find from some Beans that had been passing through years ago on a camping trip, but the fabric was light, and not made to be worn in such cold conditions.Â
Heâd only meant to go up and check what the heck the loud thumping outside his tree was like any normal person. He was expecting a deer or maybe a bear using it as a scratching post, not a Bean cutting their house down and taking him along with it. You donât exactly have time to think about putting on proper clothing when your everything is at stake.
So that was step one: Find some material and make some clothes- a jacket the top priority.
Tommy is very thankful that he had his borrowing bag on him, that he still has his self made needle and some old thread so he at least didnât have to start from nothing. Finding the material hadnât been too difficult to locate either. When he first scouted the place, he discovered pretty quickly that the Bean had a habit of leaving stuff all over the place, so borrowing supplies hadnât been difficult to do without being noticed. Itâs how he found the most perfect fluffy woollen red sock to make a coat and blanket from. He would already have it now though if the Bean hadnât come back before he could swipe it.
The Borrower had tried to come back for it later, but the Bean had decided it was time to clean their room up because he had some guests coming for this thing called âChris-massâ- whatever that was- and the sock was gone.
So instead he grabbed what he could and made his way back to the walls with just enough fabric to make a new pair of pants and some crackers for dinner.
But it still didnât fix the whole freezing situation.
What Tommy really needed was a candle.Â
To a Human Bean it may seem to be an insignificant source of light, but to a Borrower it could literally be the difference between a warm nights sleep and becoming a Borrower popsicle! But that was easier said then done because all the usual spots Beans would normally keep candles, were replaced with flippen electric ones!!!!Â
Whatâs wrong with fire on candles!? Why would you want a fake candle that just flickers and produces less light than a real one?
That or something for a bed. At least that way heâd have a comfortable place to sleep and trap his own body heat.
He really wishes he could have taken those socksâŚ
As if this Bean wasnât bad enough, not only did they lack the materials Tommy so desperately needed, but they wouldnât shut up talking into the black box (a fone he thinks itâs called from memory) to other Beans with how excited they were about them coming to stay for the Hole-lid-days and spend time huddled together by the fire or something dumb.Â
âCome on Dad! Let me host. If you let me host, Iâve got the coolest surprise planned for you and Techno I swear!! Plus donât you want to come and see me?âÂ
Lucky prick. Got a Dad and a brotherâŚ
Now donât get him wrong, Tommy is a big man, if not the biggest man to ever exist and he doesnât need anyone. But he also couldnât help but long for someone to share the cold season with like the Beans did. It had been so long since heâd seen another Borrower like himself and though heâd never admit it, living alone did get a little bit lonely sometimes. It would be nice if just once he could share a night cuddled up close to a loved one, and just bask in each otherâs company.Â
But Tommy didnât have time to be sentimental about things heâd likely never have.
He needed to find a way to stay warm and get warm now.
But the universe decidedly hated Tommy because, tonight was apparently December 24th-
Chrisymiss Eve.
Tommy had been here about a week or so and in his short stay still wasnât 100% sure what this whole Khrislermas was, but it appeared to be a BIG deal to the Beans.Â
Apparently, all the Beans get together whether itâs family or friends to spend time together and exchange gifts. Itâs about being thankful for what you have or whatever and something about showing how much you love someone by giving and receiving presents.Â
Tommy thought it was actually quite a nice thing the Beans did and wished that Borrowers had something similar themselves in their culture. However, there was one thing he still didnât quite understand about this whole holiday thing.
Who the heck is Santa Claus?
Heâd been taking some more crackers the Bean had left out from the kitchen while this âtv showâ played on the Bean's big Black box that was talking about this Santa guy. Apparently, he was some elusive, big fat man, dressed all in red with a big white bushy beard, who climbed down the Beans chimneys, and left gifts for all the little boys and girls of the world. He had this list too that knew if youâd been naughty or nice and would leave the good children gifts and the bad children coal in their stockings.Â
Children could write letters to Santa or heâd visit and children could sit on his knee and ask him for a gift they would like and he would deliver the toys to children all over the world on Christmas eve when everyone was sleeping, only to have disappeared by daybreak.
Tommy hadnât thought much of this Santa at first- not when it was just another Bean to avoid. That was until he learned two very important details.
1- Santa delivered presents to ALL children of the world.Â
And 2- Santa wasnât meant to be seen by Humans either.
So not only did this Santa guy literally just give out free gifts, but Tommy literally had a way to get exactly what he needed for the winter!
All he needed to do was talk to Santa and heâd be saved!Â
Now you might be thinking: But Tommy, you said it yourself. Santa isnât meant to be seen by anyone so what makes you the exception?Â
Simple.
Borrowers arenât meant to be seen by Beans and neither is Santa.
Which means just like Borrowers, Santa must not want to be caught (which if he thinks too hard about it makes sense since he literally breaks into houses but anyways) and unlike with Beans, there is no rule that says Borrowers canât see Santa!
All he has to do is wait for Santa to visit Crystamas eve, and then he can ask for his gift! Santa probably even knows what he wants, being made of magic and all! He just never knew Santa existed so heâs never asked for his gift before!Â
If he were a more greedy Borrower, he could ask for so much more to make up for all the years he never got a gift, but that would probably put him on Santaâs naughty list. And while coal would be good, Tommy doesnât exactly want to burn the house down with him inside it. So this was his best shot to get exactly what he needed.Â
The hard bit though, was waiting for Santa to arrive. That meant not only having to be out in the living room where the fireplace was, but also meant he had to wait for the Bean to fall asleep. Which really meant that it would be AGES before Santa would come because the Bean of the house was terrible at sleeping at night.Â
The man literally had no sleep schedule and would stay up till terrible times in the morning before drifting off. Normally that wasnât much of an issue for the Borrower having observed this early on, but right now it was very much a hindrance because it could be hours before they went to bed.Â
It also seemed that they wouldnât be sleeping anytime soon, because the amount of energy and excitement the Bean had displayed the whole day about his family coming home was overwhelming. Heâd come home at one stage with this big bag of stuff talking on the black box about how his super cool surprise was coming along and how it would be awesome since they let him host Chrimpmas- whatever that meant.Â
Tommy had hoped with the excitement of the holiday theyâd have been ready to pass out by now, but he couldnât be more wrong with the amount of commotion he could hear from down the hall- and thatâs through the walls.Â
At least he could observe everything going on from his place on the bookshelf. It was right next to a small crack in the wall he could just squeeze through, but it gave him a good view of the living room but also enough cover from prying eyes unless he made his presence known. However, being out of the walls had one difference the blonde hadnât accounted for.
Heat.
The fire had been lit and was keeping the whole room nice and toasty warm compared to the harsh bite the walls somehow managed to keep. The whole atmosphere made him almost want to curl up and fall asleep. It had been so long since heâd been able to just enjoy the warmth in the air and not be shivering to keep alive.
Perhaps it wouldnât hurt if he had a nap before Santa arrived.
Just a quick oneâŚ.
.・â
*ââ*â*・*â*ââ*â
・.
Tommy was awoken to a rather loud THUNK as the Borrower shot up from where he had fallen asleep atop the shelf.Â
It took the blonde a moment to realise where he was and not panic about being out in the open before his eyes settled upon a figure.Â
Sprawled out across the floor in a heap of red and white was the jolly big man himself.
Santa Claus.
The one and only.
âSanta!â Tommy yelled excitedly as he hurriedly manoeuvred to stand. âSanta you came!â
Santaâs head snapped up from the floor alarmed, as they pushed themselves to stand and take a defensive stance.
âWho said that?!â they shouted, looking around wildly panicked. âShow yourself!â
Tommy giggled to himself. Santa was so silly.Â
âUp here Santa! Iâve been waiting for you.â The blonde waved as the man's head turned and their eyes fell onto his small form.Â
Tommy grinned at the magical man taking him all in.Â
Just like the figure on the big black box, Santa wore a big red coat with white fluff lining the ends of his sleeves. A big black belt was strapped around their waist, fastened with a fancy golden buckle and sturdy black boots on their feet to keep out the snow. Their head was adorned with an oversized big red hat, with a giant white fluffy pom pom on the end, and they had a long white beard that travelled down their chest. And last but not least was a pair of gold rimmed glasses perched on the tip of their rosy red nose which accentuated their big brown eyes that were staring at him in wonder.Â
Huh.Â
He could have sworn that Santa's eyes were blue.
âI canât believe you came! I wasnât sure if you would since I never sent a letter but you must have known anyway cause here you are!â The little borrower stated excitedly as Santa removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes in disbelief.Â
âIâm so glad youâre here! I really need my Crimpmess present.âÂ
âIâm sorry youâre what?â the manâs eyes furrowed in confusion as they processed what the younger had said.
âMy present!.â Tommy rolled his eyes. âYou know, the whole reason why youâre here.â
Santa didnât exactly seem like he knew what was going on. Right now all he was doing was staring and Tommy was getting a bit annoyed.Â
Was that not why Santa was here? To deliver his present like the show had said?
Tommy huffed annoyed he had to explain all this. Wasnât this like his job? He should know!
âIâm sorry,â Santa began slowly as if trying to process. âI didnât actually know you were here.â
âWhy else would you have come then?â Tommy crossed his arms unimpressed. âIâm the only kid here, but donât tell anyone else I said that. Iâm a big man! The biggest ever!â
This finally seemed to warrant a different reaction from the older, as they looked the boy up and down unimpressed by this so-called âfactâ.
âA big man huh? You look more like a child. What are you- 12?â
Tommy feigned a gasp, grasping his chest offendedly. âIâll have you know Iâm 14 and the biggest man alive! Iâm only a child for the purpose of getting my gift tonight and tonight only!â
Santa couldnât stifle a laugh as he watched as the small child stomped his foot in a mini tantrum at being called 12. It was endearing in a way but he still wasnât sure how to proceed with a tiny child standing on their bookshelf.
âWell whatever you say I guess, but I still I didnât know you were here.â
The blonde shrugged before moving closer to the shelfs edge. âAh well it doesnât matter. Youâre here now so Iâd like my gift please! You have it right?âÂ
âIf I didnât know you were here, then how would I have your present with me?â Santa asked.
Well he did make a good point. Itâs not like he sent Santa a letter and he hadn't met him to tell him like other human bean children had until now.Â
âOh right. Guess I better come sit on your knee and tell you what Iâd like than.â Tommy stated matter of factly, as the small Borrower moved to the edge of the shelf and stabbed his hook into the wood, quickly jumping off to descend on his rope to the ground.
âWait, DONâT DO THAT!âÂ
The blonde yelped in surprise, moving instinctually to protect his ears at the sheer volume the man shouted, in turn losing his grip on his rope, quickly plummeting down to the ground below. Santa lunged forward with an outstretched hand as the boy slipped down the rope at a rapid speed, catching him before any real harm could be done. He semi slammed into the wall, clutching his hand to his chest as they did so before quickly unfurling their hand.
âOh my prime! Kid- kid are you alright?â Santa said frantically checking over the boy he now held in his palm.Â
Tommy shook his head, dizzy from the sudden force that had rammed into him only moments ago. He tried to steady himself grabbing, onto the nearest thing his hand could find as he begun to regain his bearings.
Oh he was going to ache tomorrowâŚ
âAs soon as the world stops spinning, yeah.â
Santa sighed in relief as Tommy allowed himself to regain focus. It was then that he really took note of where he was.Â
Normally, if a Borrower was sitting in the hand of someone almost 100x his size, he would be kicking and screeching to get away. But this was Santa Clausâs hand and Tommy felt only wonder.Â
It was like nothing heâd ever experienced before. The thing he had grabbed onto was apparently Santaâs thumb and it was almost as big as his head! Even if it was a bit weird sitting on the leathery texture of their skin, the warmth radiating beneath him was heavenly, and the way the manâs fingers curled slightly over him protectively felt nothing but comforting.Â
Santa hadnât moved since he caught Tommy mid air, and was staring at Tommy as if they would disappear. They seemed stuck on what to do next, but also amazed he was sitting there at all.
âYou alright there big man?â Tommy raised a brow confused at why the man would act this way. Santa was literally made of magic and had flying reindeer for goodness sake! A borrower existing surely was no cause for such amazement? There were surely way more interesting magical things to see than a lowly Borrower like him.Â
(But then again, he was a pretty poggers Borrower if he did so say that himself, so staring could be justified for that reason)
This finally snapped the old man out of their wondrous stupor, as they squinted their eyes open and shut with a quick shake of their head.Â
âUh yep. All good um. Let's- go sit down. Yeah- yeah, let's do that.â Santa said, confirming more to themself than Tommy.
Santa brought the boy protectively to their chest to brace them before they moved away from the book shelf, smoothly walking over to the couch where the old man sat down ever so slowly to not jostle their small passenger. The second they were bending down to sit though, Tommy was launching himself off Santaâs palm for his knee as the bearded man frantically tried to stop them in their escapade.
âKid, would you stop doing that? Youâre going to hurt yourself!â
âPfft please. This is nothing compared to how I got down from that tree over there.â The boy grinned as they pointed to the far corner of the living room.
The man's head followed to where the boy was pointing, the Christmas tree displayed proudly in a large pot tied with a red bow, small lights flickering on and off in changing patterns.
âTree? You mean the Christmas tree?â
âYep!â Tommy stood proudly popping the p. âI had to get down somehow and my hook would have gotten stuck in amongst the branches if I had tried to abseil down. So I did what any logical Borrower would do and jumped.â
âYou jumped?!â Santaâs eyes widened, as he looked back and forth between the boy and the top of the brightly decorated tree. He grimaced, imagining the boy throwing themselves from the upper branches like they had done only moments before onto his knee.Â
What was with this kid and being so reckless?!
âYou jumped from the top of the Christmas tree!? Why were you even there in the first place?â
Tommy rolled his eyes, crossing their arms in front of their chest.Â
âItâs all that stupid Beans fault.âHe huffed annoyed. âHe just came waltzing into MY forest, decided to be very rude and put their grubby hands all over MY house wrapping it up in some ugly net, only to cut it down with me still in it!â
Tommy didnât notice the way Santaâs brows furrowed and their expression changed to one of horror as he continued to ramble on.
âThey literally kidnapped me, Santa! Theyâre so lucky that the main part of my house is under the treeâs trunk and not the higher branches because I swear I would have murdered that Bean in their sleep by now if they had!â
Tommy was very pleased to have finally gotten to vent some of his frustrations to someone other than his internal self, but now he was finished he had a good chance to register the otherâs reaction.
Santa looked horrified.
His eyes seemed glossed over as if he was holding back tears, and one hand slapped over their mouth, the other gripping their wrist tightly in an attempt to ground themselves.Â
Uh shit. He hadnât meant for that to happenâŚ
âUh but donât worry Santa!â Tommy was quick to add. â I wouldnât actually do that. That would be a bad thing to do and put me on the Naughty list! I promise I wonât actually murder anyone!âÂ
Phew, that was a close one. He couldnât jeopardise his only hope with a silly joke!
Santasâ face had yet to change and Tommy subconsciously started to fidget feeling nervous to how the older was reacting. Maybe he had blown it and now he was on the naughty list. Another glance at the old man's face seemed to confirm those fears.
Heâd blown it.
His one shot at survival and he practically threw it all away with a vent. No wonder he ended up all alone.
âPlease donât put me on the Naughty list Santa. I need my gift.â Tommy spoke timidly. âI didnât mean it.â
âI- no. No youâre not on the Naughty list.â Santa dragged his hands over his eyes a few times strained. âI'm just trying to process. Itâs more of the whole kidnapping thing. âÂ
If Tommy had been paying better attention, he may have noticed the few stray brown curls poking out from under the man's hat, but he was more thrown by their following question as the magical man continued on.
âIf you were in the tree, why didnât you say anything?â
Tommy drew a deep breath, before sighing as the boy shoved his hands into his pockets.
âBecause Santa, Beans arenât supposed to know that Borrowers like me even exist.â
âBeans?â
âHuman Beans Santa. You know, big people like you, but not magical and stuff.â The Borrower explained. âThereâs no way I could tell the dumb Bean he was cutting my house down! Do you know what Beans do to Borrowers like me?âÂ
âUm no?â Santa fiddled with his hands as he looked away, eyes downcast to avoid the youngers gaze as they continued.
âThey get rid of us. To them weâre just pests or things to be used.â
Tommy hugged himself tightly, anxiety pooling in his chest for the first time that night. He wished it wasnât true, but Beans just held far too much power for their own good. Their greed often outweighing their need to do good without reward.Â
âIâd rather risk jumping out of a tree than ever fall into the clutches of a Bean.âÂ
âBut how do you know that?â Santa suddenly said, muscles tensing as they clenched their hand into fists.Â
Tommy flinched at the sight of hands so close. Closed so tightly that he couldnât help let slip the thought of himself in the mercy of their grasp, begging to be freed like all the stories had said of the Borrowers trapped in agonising pain. The man noticed his discomfort, and immediately loosened their fists, moving their hands away and under their thighs so as to not startle the boy any further than they already had.
âSorry. I didnât mean to scare you.â Santa said with a sense of guilt. âBut I just- How do you know that though? Who says that they would have hurt you if you had just made your presence known? You wouldnât have had to jump or gotten hurt.â
Santa turned away sheepishly, whispering sadly. âThey could have helped you.âÂ
Tommy swallowed hard, his shoulders sagging as he observed the sad look Santa had as they stared at the Christmas tree. It was obvious they were blaming themself for what had happened. He was far too kind for that.
âSanta, itâs not your fault.â the boy sighed, âEvery borrower is taught this from birth. Itâs a known fact that Beans are all cruel, power hungry beings. They always want more and just take, take, take.â Â
âBut what if this âBeanâ didnât know.â Santa shot back, causing the Borrower to falter. âWhat if you had said something? They would have stopped and left you and your house alone? How do you know they wouldnât have helped you?â
âBecause Santa,â Tommy turned and faced the man head on. âThatâs just how Beans are. To them, we're just another thing to take and control.âÂ
Tommy wanted to believe Santa, he really did, but it was hard to just ignore years of being brought up to beware Human Beans and their cruelty. Heâd seen it even from when Beans had once come into the forest with their fire sticks, and took down a friendly deer. It was unnecessarily cruel and was all the convincing Tommy needed to deem all Humans bad.
Santa nodded sadly in some kind of understanding, but Tommy couldnât understand why Santa looked so hurt. It wasnât his fault the Bean took him and his home, but he seemed so convinced that hiding and not asking for help had been the wrong thing to do.Â
He thought they were the same, that if Beans caught him on Christmas Eve, then something bad would happen to him like it would for Borrowers. Thatâs why they had to stay a secret. Why no one could know they were here.Â
But Santa wasnât a Borrower who lived in hiding unknown. The Beans knew about the jolly, present giving man that only appeared in December.Â
He could live among the Beans and it would be fine if he asked for help. Everyone liked Santa. He didnât take things just to survive. He gave toys and gifts so he would have no worries about the repercussions of taking a paperclip just to get around. He wouldnât have to worry about Beans hurting him if something went wrong. He would just use his magic and be fine.
It was Santaâs choice to stay hidden as an extra precaution to protect that same magic.Â
âBut youâre different from the Beans Santa.â The boy perked up instantly remembering why he was doing this in the first place. âYou only come out of hiding at Christmas and everyone knows who you are! You only hide to keep your magic safe from Beans so they canât have that too!âÂ
The man gave a small smile as the boy continued to ramble, pacing back and forth on his thigh as he did so.
âBut I donât understand why you give children presents when they already have so much!â Tommy stopped, his lips pursed together as his voice dropped to a whisper.
âUnlike me.â He confessed quietly, lifting his head to meet Santaâs sympathetic gaze.Â
Santa was staring at the young boy again, leaned forward in concern listening as the blonde continued to share his story.
âIt's why I need my gift Santa.â Tommy wringed his hands together with a nervous glance to see Santaâs reaction who nodded in approval, gesturing for him to continue.Â
Tommy steadied himself.
Now or never.
âI was brought here with basically nothing. Forced to move into the Beans walls or risk being seen. Iâve barely been able to get anything for basic survival and the walls are freezing!âÂ
Tommy shivered remembering the way the air had nipped at his nose as he struggled to keep warm. Clutching himself tightly in a poor attempt to retain any kind of body heat. The one time he went up stairs without his coat and of course he gets kidnapped.
He needed this.Â
More than anything.
.・â
*ââ*â*・*â*ââ*â
・.
Wilbur had just wanted to have the perfect Christmas.
It was his first time hosting and had decided he HAD to go all out.
More decorations than his little house needed both inside and out, homemade hot chocolate from scratch and had promised his Father and brother a very special Christmas surprise if they let him host.
Their first ever living Christmas tree and a surprise visit from the Big man himself- Santa Claus.
Heâd done a bunch or research into the best spots to go where he could get a tree and quickly had been recommended from several sites about the fir trees in Logstedshire, and quickly made the trip out to find a tree.
What the websites failed to mention, was that said fir trees might be inhabited and the home of tiny people that are terrified of Human Beings.Â
So if you asked: No, Wilbur was not having a good night realising he had kidnapped a child that was deathly afraid of him and only okay right now because he thought he was the real Santa Claus.Â
In a way, it was a good thing the kid hadnât realised yet, because if Wilbur had never dressed up in this silly costume, he probably would have never known about the child freezing to death in his walls.
The child was so cold despite their lively spirit when heâd caught them after they launched themself off the top of the shelf. The fact it wasnât the first time theyâd thrown themself from such a height made Wilbur sick knowing had they not been lucky, could very well not have made the long fall. But the fact the kid had been struggling, terrified and afraid in his walls when he could have helped had the guilt eating him away as the boy rambled on.
They were so sure of themselves with the cruelty of humanity too that they had him so on edge. If the blonde knew he was really the guy that had cut his tree down, he very much doubted they would be this enthusiastic. He was talking about how much he needed his gift- the gift he still had no clue what it was, but just hearing the little blondes tale, and seeing how thin his clothes were had Wilbur making a very long list of things he needed to get to help the kid out.Â
A kid which he still doesnât know the name of.
The boy's eyes had brightened, as he bounded up and down on the balls of his feet eagerly, talking about what this gift would mean for him. He was actually quite endearing despite their seemingly dire situation.
âIf I tell you my gift, then you can give it to me now and Iâll actually have a chance to survive the Winter!â He explained excitedly, grining.
Wilbur pushed down his anxiousness for the boys well-being. They had already suffered enough from his mistakes. He didnât want them to suffer any longer than they had by them accidentally discovering the truth.
âWhatâs your name kid?â Wilbur mentally slapped himself that he hadnât asked sooner.
The tiny boy chuckled to himself as they crossed their arms. âOh come on Santa, you know my name donât you? You have a list with every child's name on it.â
Ah- right. Santa did have that Naughty and Nice list didnât he? Curse Santa for having to live up to magical standards.
âUh- I came here in such a rush, I um- ah must have left my list back at the North Pole.â
âSo?â The boy argued, raising a brow. âYouâre magic. Donât you just know?â
Did he say endearing earlier? How about difficult for making him use his brain at 9pm at night. (Shut up. Donât judge him for it)
âWell you know thereâs like 2 Billion kids in this world and I see them all in one night. You donât expect me to remember every name without my list do you?â
The kid hadnât seemed to account for this, and thought it over before shrugging in agreement.Â
Oh thank goodness for kids being young and naive.Â
âI guess thatâs fair. But youâve got a s*** memory in that case Big Man. Getting old.âÂ
Actually, make that an annoying gremlin.
âI think if someone wants their present, they should be more careful about insulting their elders.â Wilbur teased with a chuckle. The boy rolled his eyes with a groan.Â
Okay, an endearing gremlin then.
âFiiiiiiiiine.â they drawled letting their arms drop to their sides before extending their hand up in greeting. âThe nameâs Tommy.â
Wilbur carefully lifted his arm up and slowly extended his pinky finger out for the boy to take in an oversized handshake.Â
âNice to meet you Tommy.â His finger dwarfed the boy entirely, his pinky finger only slightly shorter than the boy's total height, but nevertheless, Tommy took the tip and shook it lightly.
âNow, why donât you sit down and tell me what it is youâd like for Christmas?â
Wilbur couldnât help but smile at the little boy excitedly sharing in exact detail what he wanted. What the Borrower wanted wasnât even that difficult to get, and he knew exactly where to find it. Tommy continued to ramble on for a bit longer about what he had been doing since coming here and Wilbur made mental notes of the few places where Tommy talked about entrances in out of the walls for future reference.
He was going to have to look out for Tommy from now on and if he wanted a shred of hope in getting him to trust him as Wilbur, he was going to need a plan.
âSo could I have my gift now? I would really love it now and you still have a lot of other houses to visit tonight right?â Tommy asked innocently.
Wilbur really didnât want to stop talking to Tommy. Tommy trusted the magical Santa Claus; not regular Human Being Wilbur Soot. He knew that if he let Tommy go now, it was unlikely he would see the kid again, but if he didnât leave as Santa now, they would most likely get suspicious, realising he was a fake and panic.Â
Wilbur sighed as he brushed a stray hair of fake beard from under his cheek.
âI- yeah I guess so. Best get you to bed then too.âÂ
âAwwww but Iâm not sleepy yet!â The blonde pouted. âThis is normally when Iâm awake so it would be a crime to make me sleep now.â
âWell good little girls and boys go to bed when theyâre told if they want to stay on the nice list.â
âYouâre not the boss of me!â Tommy stuck his tongue out in defiance and Wilbur had to bite his to stop himself from bursting out loud laughing.Â
This kid was going to be the death of him he swears.
Wilbur extended his hand to the Borrower, keeping it steady as he waited for Tommy to climb on. Heâs still a little huffy at first realising there was no room for argument, but climbs on anyway, sitting down in the middle of Wilburâs palm bracing themself before he moves.
The brunette curls his fingers over the boy slightly, bringing his hand to his chest protectively. He tries not to linger too long at how it felt to hold an entire person in one hand for the second time tonight before moving to stand.Â
Steadily, Wilbur makes his way over to the book shelf and cautiously raises his hand up for Tommy to climb off of. He sets his hand down on the wooden surface and Tommy takes no time in hoping off to stand, waiting expectantly for his promised present. Â
âOkay I need you to close your eyes just for a second.â Wilbur asks the boy who quickly covers his eyes with his hands, only to peak out from behind his fingers seconds later.
âI mean it Tommy. Keep them closed.â
âUgggghhhhh Fineee!â the boy said huffing, but relented nevertheless.Â
Wilbur quickly whirled around and crouched down beneath the Christmas tree, snagging a gift from the floor and hastily tearing the gift tag labelled- Technoblade; from the gift before setting it next to the small borrower child.Â
âOkay, you can open your eyes now.âÂ
Tommy removed his hands and squealed in delight, quickly reaching down to hug the gift.Â
âOh thank you Santa! You really are the most poggers man ever!!!â Tommy spoke rapidly, smiling so much his cheeks hurt. âWell after me of course, but only by a little bit!âÂ
Wilbur chuckled as he gazed affectionately at the blonde hunched over the brightly wrapped gift. âYouâre welcome Tommy. Iâm glad you like it.â
The boy quickly stood, and started hauling the gift to the crack in the wall, as they tried to shove the gift through. Unfortunately while the crack had been enough for Tommy to squeeze through, it wasnât quite wide enough to let the present go in without getting a tad scrunched up and paper torn.Â
âUm, Tommy? Is there perhaps a bigger entrance I could take this too?â Wilbur suggested, cringing slightly as the boy gave another hard shove on the gift, intent on getting it through no matter what.
âItâll fit. Just gotta keep pushing it in.âÂ
After a few more attempts, the boy did in fact give up and relented their efforts allowing Wilbur to pull the now crumpled present back out from the crack, instructing him to take it to the kitchen and place it behind the toaster, assuring him he would get it before the Bean woke up explaining how the electrical socket actually came off as a secret entrance.
He offered to take Tommy over to it too, but the stubborn boy refused, insisting that he had done enough and needed to hurry up and deliver presents to the other children before the night was over.
Taking one more long look at the boy, Wilbur watched as Tommy disappeared through the crack into the walls, the sound of tiny footsteps pitter pattering away before Wilbur himself quietly crept back to his room before he removed the Santa costume and flopped down onto his bed.Â
Heâd just met a tiny child.
A tiny child trying to survive in his walls.
That was deathly afraid of him.
Quickly Wilbur shot up from his bed snatching his phone from the night stand; a plan forming in his mind. The screen read 9:31 pm before he hastily unlocked it and dove into his contacts, quickly stopping on a profile of a girl with light pink hair, dialling their number shortly after.
The phone rang twice before a woman answered on the other end.
âHello?â
âNiki? Hey! Howâs the holidays going?â Wilbur asked as he grabbed his coat and gloves from the wardrobe.
âSo I need a favourâŚâ
.・â
*ââ*â*・*â*ââ*â
・.
Tommy awoke warm for the first time that week.
He opened his eyes blearily, almost willing himself to fall back into dream land before his eyes snapped fully open. Tommy rubbed his eyes a few times, eyes going wide trying to comprehend that this was real and not just a dream as the thoughts of the previous night played through his head.
He was in his Christmas present: A brand new pair of bright red, fluffy woollen socks- the most perfect bed ever and exactly what Tommy had asked for. He had basically run to get his gift as fast as possible, before hauling it back through the walls to a space close by the bookshelf; the space seemingly much more homely after last night's introductions.Â
He hugged the woollen fabric tightly, smiling as he remembered the soft smile Santa had as he watched him go and how kind and gentle he had been with him the entire time.
The Borrower was so pleased and grateful that he had been able to meet the Santa Claus, and would cherish the magical night forever.
He stayed snuggled in his new bed for a little while longer before his stomach grumbled in protest that he should go and have something to eat. Albeit a little grumbly, his hunger eventually won out and Tommy made his way through the walls back to the kitchen so he could gather some food before the Bean woke up.
Stealthily, he removed the electrical socket, expecting to make it a quick supply run; stepping out into the open before freezing in surprise.
Laid out in a neat pile behind the toaster was a small stack of brightly wrapped gifts all wrapped in different coloured and patterned paper, and right in the middle, an envelope with his name written in gold cursive. Tommy smiled brightly, as he eagerly ran forward to the awaiting stack of gifts, quickly grabbing a gift reading the label.Â
To: Tommy From: Santa
Tommy denies that he cried that day.Â
That he took each gift home and opened each one oh so delicately, afraid if he didnât they might just disappear, happy tears trailing down his cheek as he opened a gift revealing a beautiful, blue knitted sweater- and in just his size.Â
His tears didnât cease as he opened the other gifts revealing several new pairs of warm winter clothes, new rope and hooks for climbing, some tea candles with a tiny piece of flint and steel to light them, and the tiniest iced cookies he had ever seen. He could actually hold this in one hand like humans did and he had a whole bag of them!!! His prayers had been answered and he couldnât be more thankful.
Soon, the only thing that remained was the envelope.
He dried his face as best he could, doing his best to not smear any tears or snot onto the pristine surface as he opened the envelope, revealing a card with a picture of glitter candy canes decorating the front.Â
Settled back into his new bed, Tommy opened the card and read the message inside.
Dear Tommy, It was lovely meeting you and getting to know your story. I figured you might like some extra gifts as well to help you be more comfortable in Wilburâs walls. I think you should try talking to him. You might be surprised. Sincerely, Santa Claus
P.S- Heâs not as scary as you think.
Tommyâs smile became puzzled as he reread the last few lines.
Who the heck was Wilbur?
Was that the name of the Bean that lived here?
Oh come on, that's not fair! How come Santa knew Wilburâs name but not his!
He grumbled a little bit at the thought, but his mind kept drawing back to the last line of the card.
âHeâs not as scary as you think.â
âHmpf, you keep saying that.â Tommy grumbled.Â
What was with Santaâs insistence on this?
As much as he wanted to be annoyed at Santa for putting forward such a ridiculous idea, Tommy decided to drag himself out of bed and to the book shelf crack. The Bean had gotten up not long after Tommy had made it back to his new home, but heâd been a tad too distracted to really care about how slow and heavy they had been trudging about this morning unlike their usually poised self.
Currently, said Bean was sitting on the couch, the exact same spot he and Santa had been last night, absentmindedly staring at his hand.
How could Santa think this guy was any good? They had kidnapped him unknowingly, almost let him die from hypothermia unknowingly, destroyed the top of his home unknowingly and Santa still thinks they wonât hurt him?
Okay so maybe it wasnât their fault all those things happened just because they didnât know he was there, but that doesnât mean theyâre not still very capable of hurting him for having to do all those things. But then again, Santa knew who was naughty or nice. And he wouldnât ask him to do something that would endanger his safety if this âWilburâ guy wasnât a good person right?
Tommy observed the Bean a little longer, as they ran their thumb over their palm. Their normally neat curly hair was all over the place and he could have sworn there were black bags under their eyes from lack of sleep. They suddenly turned their head and were staring straight at his crack by the book shelf. The Borrower was certain they couldnât see him from the couch, but ducked back just slightly in case.
The Bean simply sighed as a small smile graced their features. Tommy was right about the black bags. Bean did not look like they had slept at all.Â
He thought back to what Santa had said.Â
I think you should try talking to him.
They certainly didnât seem dangerous. Maybe they really werenât bad like the Jolly man said?
But was it really worth taking the risk and talking to this guy?
Before he could dwell on it for much longer, the door bell sounded and Wilbur snapped his head to the sound before standing and stretching; their limbs popping and cracking slightly from their limited use. Before he left the living room, the man stopped and stared at his crack once more. Tommy didnât dare breathe as they simply smiled and shook their head, before exiting and headed towards the front door.
Tommy allowed himself to exhale as the sound of footsteps got further away.
âWeirdo.â Tommy muttered to himself as he pushed himself back from the crack and began to head back to his bed for a well deserved rest.
Heâd think about what Santa said, and just maybe heâd talk to this- Wilbur. If not, he hoped he'd meet Santa again so he could thank them in person.
Once he was back in his bed, Tommy quickly slipped in snuggling down, allowing himself to drift off to the chatter of beings much larger than himself from beyond the walls.
âWil! So good to see you! Itâs been ages!â
âHi Dad, thanks for letting me host. Iâm so glad you and Techno could make it!
âSo are we, but you look like shit mate. Up late again? Wouldn't be related to that surprise you were telling us about?â
âYou could say thatâŚâÂ
.・â
*ââ*â*・*â*ââ*â
・.
Tommy never did meet Santa Claus again.
The card proudly on display in his new home, a secret hope he would one day and a constant reminder of what Santa had asked him to try.
And maybe one day, Tommy would finally take up the old man's advice and go and speak to Wilbur, and discover perhaps they may have been right.
Maybe then heâd finally have a friend to keep him warm during the holiday seasons and to rely on like he had wished.Â
One that seemed to always know just what he needed despite never telling them, and was very insistent about never wearing Santa costumes.
No matter how many times a little boy beggedâŚ.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That was a lot of words....
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING TO THE END! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it and it means a lot you read all the way through <3
Tag List: @local-squishmallow @brick-a-doodle-do @justarandomsloth @veryfunkycheesecake @munchkin1156 @kayla-crazy-stuffs @da3dm @eiscreme135 @orchid-harmony @the-tiny-lurker @colossal-red @nobodywritingao3 @nata2343 @bad-author777 @crazyfoxgirl10
And cue rant: Honestly you guys have no idea just how much you all mean to me an in this community and the impact you've had on me in the last year alone. I could not be more thankful for being apart of this and getting to know you guys. Getting so back into writing has been really good for me and rekindled something I love so I can't thank you enough.
And even though I know I've been a little quieter online, I'm still here lurking about and working on projects. A lot has happened in the last few months alone and I'm quite happy that I'm limiting myself to be a bit more healthier with my online habits.
Anyways thanks so much if you read this far!
Thanks to my Beta readers @a-xyz-s squishy and munchkin for reading this for me, and I wish you all a very safe and wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year!
-Beckyu â¤ď¸
#beckyu writes#beckyu but on ao3#my writing#my fic#tiny!tommy#t!tommy#borrower!tommy#giant!wilbur#g!wilbur#human!wilbur#g!santa claus#mentioned g!technoblade#mentioned g!philza#mcyt gt#mcyt g/t#dsmp gt#dsmp g/t#mcyt gt community#mcyt g/t community#giant tiny#giant/tiny#gt#g/t#gt writing#g/t writing#gt community#g/t community#I AM SORRY FOR ALL THE TAGS! QwQ#BUT THERE WAS A LOT TO ADD
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