#creepy thin man

[manyimaginativemuses]

Lend Me Your Voice (Anthony/The Thin Man x Original Character) - Chapter 2

Chapter Warnings: N/A

Read on AO3

Tags: @vereorr @werewolf-on-high @peanutbutternun @labyrinthphanlivingafacade @stainedlilac @c0ffinshit

Miranda had to sit in her bean bag chair for a good half an hour to finally get her body to self regulate. Sudden change and extreme situations like that often sent her into a meltdown, but she had tools for this and she used them. When she was able to stand up without shaking or crying, she approached the man’s side. He was fast asleep from the morphine and, although she hadn’t checked and was a little mad at herself for not checking, his breathing seemed even and healthy. Grabbing her stethoscope just in case, she listened to his breathing as he slept. Miraculously, it didn’t sound like he’d punctured a lung. Whatever pierced his chest had not only missed his heart and any major arteries, but it also missed piercing his lungs.

“You are one lucky motherfucker…” She whispered, shaking her head before she noticed her hair. The chunk he had ripped out earlier was fisted tightly against his face where he had been rubbing it. She wondered what his thing was with hair, but maybe she’d get a chance to ask him in the morning. It was also at this point that she really got a good look at him. Lean was the best descriptor Miranda had for him. He was tall and thin but surprisingly muscular despite his appearance. He didn’t have any real abs to speak of but he was definitely toned. She snorted a laugh at the thought of this man’s workout routine. The strange thing was that he was covered in scars. His porcelain pale skin was littered with scars, some appeared to be former bullet wounds but most seemed to have been made by a blade of some kind.

“What happened to you, Mister? Who are you?” She wondered aloud as she started to pull off the clothes she was forced to cut off him. Miranda had never felt such a finely made suit before. It was lined with silk and the outside was a beautiful pinstripe pattern. It was also while pulling it off the bed that she noticed he had another chunk of hair sticking out of his pocket, this time the hair belonged to a redhead.

“You just keep getting weirder and weirder…” Miranda left his side once she was sure he was breathing so she could text Darius and Jade to tell them the situation. This was, by far, the craziest thing that had ever happened to her, atleast from her perspective. Amazingly her boss and coworker were remarkably understanding, telling her to call them if needed and to stay safe. She gave a heavy sigh when she finally was able to relax, peeling off her work clothes. She looked over once again at the sleeping stranger in her bed as she pulled on her pajamas and tied her hair into braids.

“Well, I guess I’m getting the couch. Please just… don’t be dead by the morning, Mr. Stranger.” Miranda said softly as she hopped onto the couch, swapping out her work earplugs for her sensory headphones, and preparing for a long damn night.

And surprisingly, it wasn’t as difficult as she imagined, despite getting up and checking to make sure he was still breathing every half an hour. She had one of her favorite YouTubers on in the background so it made the night a little easier and she tried to catch naps when she could, but she knew she needed to be awake enough just in case something went wrong. When he finally started to stir, she had already eaten breakfast and taken her medication to make sure all her faculties were up and running to take care of him.

“Good morning sunshine.” Miranda said softly as the man started groaning awake, probably still in pain of course, but he also most likely still had a little morphine left in his system. She almost gasped again when she saw how beautiful and haunting his blue eyes were, but she forced herself to stay calm.

As soon as he realized he was awake, Anthony started rubbing the hair against his cheek, needing the sensory input and the smell to get him back to himself. He heard a voice speaking to him as he groggily awoke, the morphine making his entire body feel like it weighed 1000 pounds. But when he looked up and saw the stranger that had rescued him, it oddly wasn’t fear he started to feel, it was relief and a feeling of peace.

“You gave me quite a scare last night mister. You’re incredibly lucky, whatever pierced you missed all your vital organs and vessels, although you definitely do have some broken ribs and you might walk with a limp for a while given how your legs look. But you’re alive, that’s all that matters.” Miranda started, “What’s your name so I can stop calling you mister?” She asked with a laugh but Anthony blinked as he watched her. He definitely didn’t have the energy to attempt to speak, so he sat up as best he could, grunting in pain from the effort, and made a writing motion in the air.

“Can’t you speak?” She asked and Anthony shook his head.

“Huh, never met a mute man before.” Miranda thought out loud and Anthony rolled his eyes. He wasn’t mute, he could speak, it just took a hell of a lot more effort than most people to do so. However, Miranda left and quickly returned with a pen and notepad, handing him the materials as she got more pillows to put behind him so he could sit upright.

“Where am I?” He wrote and Miranda raised an eyebrow.

“You’re in my apartment. I’m Miranda, Miranda Sullivan. You requested no hospitals last night, and I live across the street from the club where I found you, so it was either bring you here and fix you up or you die.” She explained with a shrug as he started writing again.

“No one told you to take me here? Did anyone see you bring me here?” His questions were strange and Miranda was even more confused as he frantically wrote out questions rather than answering hers.

“No? Why would anyone tell me to take you in? Why the hell would it matter if someone saw anyway? It’s not illegal to help a stranger off the street is it?” Anthony let out a sigh of relief through his nose, but he was still nervous that this was some kind of trap for when he was most vulnerable. However, the woman in front of him seemed truthful, and her body language didn’t suggest deception of any sort. He paused for a moment and nodded before writing out something else.

“Anthony. You may call me Anthony.” The simple sentence made Miranda smile but he was right back to asking more questions immediately afterwards, “What happened to my clothes?”

“I unfortunately had to cut them off you as I didn’t know the extent of your injuries and you weren’t capable of telling me what was wrong. I left the scraps in my kitchen in case you wanted to take them with you once you’re better. Oh, that reminds me.” Miranda left once again before returning with a flip phone, “I found this in the pocket of your suit. You should probably call or text any friends or family to let them know you’re alright and that you’re going to be staying here for a while.”

“Staying here?!” He asked.

“I mean, where else are you going to go? You said no hospitals and given everything I’ve been able to gather just from your suit and looking at you, I don’t think you have many other places to go or am I wrong?” She stated bluntly and he froze, locking his jaw and sighing again as she had read him like a book. That was when he turned and tried to stand up, causing Miranda to rush to his side as he almost immediately fell from his legs giving out under him.

“Ok Anthony, alright buddy, I’m assuming you probably have to go to the bathroom.” The look he cut her made her almost snort a laugh, “What? You didn’t go all night! Atleast the bathroom is right here so you don’t have to go far!” She helped him to stand upright and she handed him a cane that she kept in her closet for the days when her chronic pain was a little too much. Amazingly he could still walk, just with a bit of effort, and she helped him into the bathroom as she stood outside.

I feel like a child again, this is so fucking embarrassing… Anthony thought as he relieved himself, hating that Miranda was correct on all counts. Who was this woman and why was she being so nice to him? If she didn’t have any ulterior motive as it appeared she didn’t, why was she trusting him with not only her home but also herself. He made note of the windows in her bathroom just in case he needed an escape later, but for now he was content with staying. And as he looked at himself in the mirror once he was finished, he could barely recognize himself. His face was beaten and bruised, there was a large bandage covering his chest along with a matching one on his back, and his hair was a complete mess. The fact that it was in his face and not slicked back was definitely irritating and he started rubbing Miranda’s hair on his face to soothe himself.

“You alright in there?” Miranda called as she knocked on the wall, making him roll his eyes again as he limped back out into her bedroom. The sight of her apartment was quite overstimulating, with color and plushies almost everywhere he looked. If Anthony didn’t already know this was a grown woman’s home, he would’ve assumed this place belonged to a child given all the childish items. It was then that he also noticed she had changed the towels on the bed and laid out an oversized tee shirt and a pair of boxers.

“You didn’t have any other clothes with you, so you’re gonna have to settle for the shit my exes left behind. Given the silk on the inside of your suit, I grabbed the softest feeling ones that I could find.” Miranda explained as Anthony limped back to the bed, reaching out and touching the shirt and boxers. The shirt was acceptable, definitely far worse quality than he was used to, but when he touched the boxers he yanked his hand back as if he’d been burned and made an audible gag noise.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, peaking her head back into the room since she’d gone to grab something. Anthony pointed at the boxers, made a disgusted face and shook his head, “What’s wrong with them?” She asked and Anthony groaned with annoyance, grabbing the notepad and pen again.

“Bad texture, feels uncomfortable.”

“Oh! Oh shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize you had sensory issues too! Lemme try to find something else!” Miranda ran past him to dig through her closet as Anthony stood there stunned. No one, not even the nuns who raised him, had ever believed him when he complained about a bad texture. Certain fabrics like crushed velvet or certain cotton blends made him feel like he’d rather peel his own skin off than wear it for long periods of time. Unfortunately no one ever listened to him and forced him to wear uncomfortable clothing or touch uncomfortable things when he didn’t want to. Hell, he often did the only thing he could do and screamed at them to try and get the point across but they only forced it on him even harder then. This woman, his random stranger who saved his life and took him in without a second thought, was the only person in his entire life who didn’t question him when he complained about a fabric texture. She didn’t laugh at him, she didn’t force him to wear the uncomfortable boxers, she apologized and went to look for a different pair. Anthony almost felt overwhelmed with emotion just from this simple act of kindness, but he couldn’t let it show, especially to someone he didn’t know or trust.

“Here, feel these. Not sure if they’ll fit but they’re the closest I’ve got to your size.” Miranda said as she returned with a pair of red pajama pants. He reached out and touched the pants, a gentle smile crossing his face when he realized the texture was actually really nice. He nodded and took the pants from her. He’d been wearing nothing but his briefs from the previous night since Miranda cut his clothes off, so this would definitely make him feel less exposed. She watched as he put the clothes on, helping him when necessary and making sure he didn’t hurt himself even more, before she gave him a warm smile once he was back in the bed.

“I already ate my breakfast, but you definitely need to eat something if I’m going to give you more pain medication later. Do you have a preference of what you want to eat?” She asked and he paused for a moment before nodding. She told him to write down his order as she was preparing the kitchen and Anthony still couldn’t believe this was his situation. The previous night he was on the brink of death and now here he was wearing another man’s clothes in a gorgeous stranger’s bed being taken care of by said stranger. The best he could do was take advantage of this and use it like a mini vacation to relax. He had always healed faster than normal anyway, so he’d try to stay out for the count as long as he could so he could give his brain a break.

However, giving his brain a break was proving to be exceptionally difficult when Miranda kept approaching him with a smile and her decently large breasts that he had tried to ignore up until this point. Despite having his own “idiosyncrasies” as the nuns had called it, Anthony was still a man who was attracted to feminine bodies as well as masculine ones. So when presented with a beautiful set of tits like the ones attached to Miranda, he couldn’t help but stare. And he was incredibly embarrassing when she caught him doing so.

“Ummmm, hey Ant, my eyes are up here.” Miranda teased when she caught his stunning eyes staring at her chest. He made a face at her nickname, causing her to laugh at how his angular face changed with disgust. She laughed again when she saw his order, her eyebrow quirking when she met his eyes again, “You’re very particular about your food too, again much like me. Given the thing with the hair that you do and your reaction to the clothes as well as this, I wonder if you’re autistic like me. Maybe you’ll tell me when you’re ready, but regardless, you are once again in luck. This is my favorite coffee brand too, I have to order it online since it’s so special, and I’ll get this started for you ok?” Miranda gave him a big genuine smile before heading to the kitchen and Anthony lied there processing what she had said.

He had heard of autism before, some of his coworkers mentioned it whenever he was around but he never thought they were referring to him. He would have to look it up later to really understand what it meant, but at that moment, he remembered the flip phone that she handed him. It seemed like she hadn’t checked it for any texts or calls which was good. He didn’t want this woman to accidentally get on any kind of hit list for knowing something she shouldn’t. She was innocent in all this, just a random kind soul who decided to help him. When he opened the phone, there were a few texts from his employers, mostly asking if he wanted to take a job or two. There was one text from a colleague, letting him know the Angels might be onto him and his history, but he didn’t really care much about them right at that moment. He did care about Dylan though… Dylan Sanders, the wild child of the Angels. He had saved her life, kissed her, and had almost been murdered trying to force himself to speak to her. He had cared for Dylan for quite a while, ever since they first fought. He had assumed she was out of his league, but given the way she kissed him back and the way she took some of his hair and mirrored him, maybe she wasn’t as far out of his reach as he first assumed.

But despite what he might’ve felt for Dylan, what he was starting to feel for Miranda was already far stronger. Not only had she saved his life when he was on deaths door and was letting him live in her apartment to heal, but she also respected his problems with fabric and didn’t judge him for it. She wasn’t demanding answers for anything, atleast not yet anyway, and at that very moment she was making him breakfast to help him regain his strength. If Anthony was being honest, he would’ve genuinely thought he was hallucinating because there was no way life would’ve been blessing him with this much kindness. He had fallen off a building after all, maybe this was his brain’s way of soothing him before he died from massive internal organ failure. Regardless of if this was real or not, Anthony let out a deep sigh as he leaned back into the bed, the pain starting to set back in.

Miranda, meanwhile, was still in disbelief about her current situation. Here she was making breakfast for a stranger she saved the previous night and she knew nothing about him other than his name. Plus he didn’t speak so that was something else she had to contend with. But before last night, she didn’t know what she was going to do with her life. Things had been stalled for quite a while and her depression had been worsening. She felt quite stuck in a rut life wise. And then this stranger comes out of nowhere and gives her not only something new and different, but he also helped her feel like her life was worth something. Even if it was something minor, he gave her some kind of purpose because without her, he would’ve been dead. And that thought alone made her smile as she put his breakfast on the tray and walked back to him with it.

“Here you go, handsome. Made it exactly how you said. Trust me, I know how fucking annoying it is when people make your order wrong, especially when you have sensory issues like me. There’s also some pain medication there for you as well, which I have a feeling you’ll need.” Miranda said with a warm smile as she suddenly heard her phone ringing in her back pocket, “Let me know if you need anything!” She called before leaving the room to take the call.

“Hello?”

“OH THANK FUCKING GOD, BITCH I THOUGHT HE KILLED YOU!” Darius almost screamed over the phone, causing her to yank the speaker away from her ear, “You left me hanging last night and didn’t respond yet this morning! Way to give me a heart attack!”

“Thanks for making me deaf first thing this morning, Darius, good morning to you too.” Miranda replied sarcastically, “And I’m sorry I didn’t respond yet, I’ve been dealing with our mystery man. His name is Anthony, but he hasn’t told me much else. He also doesn’t speak so we have to communicate in writing which is a little inconvenient but I can handle it.”

“You’re safe though right? Motherfucker hasn’t tried to kill you?”

“No, no he hasn’t, although he did rip a chunk of my hair out but I think that’s because he needed to stim. I have a decent hunch that he’s autistic like me.”

“There are other ways for him to stim that don’t involve hurting you.”

“And I am well aware, but I’m giving him a pass this time since he was almost dead and mildly delusional. All in all though he’s actually quite sweet, atleast from what I can tell so far. Hopefully he’s telling his friends or family where he is so they can come pick him up or something… unless he WANTS to be stuck with me until he gets back on his feet.” Miranda chuckled, “Darius I can practically HEAR you rolling your eyes over the phone. What’s going on?”

“Bitch you have a whole ass man in your house who you are feeding and clothing and you know nothing about him other than his name and that he can’t talk. You better start asking some damn questions before I come over there and ask him for you because I’m not letting that weirdo rape you or something.” Darius replied with a huff.

“We both well know that if he tried anything, I’m much stronger than I look, and I could easily take him down. There is literally nothing to worry about, Darius. I’m gonna be ok, I promise.” Miranda tried her best to soothe his fears but she knew Darius better than anyone. He would make sure that she was safe even if it meant him being annoying about it.

“Ok, just make sure you keep me updated and don’t die, that’s all I ask.” Darius said before Miranda said goodbye and hung up the phone. She peaked through the doorway into the other room and spotted Anthony practically scarfing down his food. He must not have eaten in a while and the thought that she was helping him by feeding him made her smile. However, she must’ve been louder than she thought because Anthony looked up and met her gaze.

“You doing ok?” She asked and Anthony nodded. Miranda slowly approached, sitting in the bean bag chair beside her bed and grabbing the weighted Cinnamaroll plush that was on the floor. As Anthony sipped on his coffee, he looked over at her and examined her head to toe. She was a beautiful woman, that he couldn’t deny, but her strange and childish behavior was completely contradictory to how she had acted the previous night. How could a woman be able to save his life but also hold onto such childish things? But then again, he himself could be considered strange, given his whole hair thing.

“What happened to you last night?”

Her question threw him out of his reverie, his eyes suddenly shooting up to meet her gaze as he processed her question. Miranda saw the look on his face as he stared at her. It was one of fear and regret, an expression she had seen in the mirror way too many times. Anthony paused as he thought of how to respond, grabbing the notepad and writing down his answer.

“I was saving someone. It went wrong. I almost died, but you saved me.” Miranda’s expression softened as she read his reply, her heart breaking for him.

“Did you save them?”

“Yes, but I ended up getting stabbed and fell off a building.” His answer had Miranda’s jaw dropping.

“Oh my god… well that explains the stab wound and why your ribs were broken. But how the hell did you manage to make it to the front of my club? Did you crawl or something?” At her question, the sound of his gentle laughter had a chill running down her spine. He could still make noise, and quite beautiful noise at that of his laugh was anything to go by. Miranda would do anything to hear him laugh again like that.

“I had adrenaline leftover from the fight and the fall, so I just ran for as long as I could before I collapsed in front of your building. I just got lucky that you were there.” He wrote and Miranda reached over, touching his hand. Anthony tensed for a second at her sudden touch, but he softened almost immediately. He didn’t realize how insanely touch starved he was until she grabbed his hand.

“I’m glad I was there too.” Miranda paused for a moment, rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand, “Did you call anyone with the phone I gave you? Are any of your friends or family coming to pick you up?” She asked, causing Anthony to pull his hand away from her gentle touches and shake his head. She blinked in confusion and shock, cocking her head as she processed his answer.

“What do you mean no? Do you just not have their numbers or….?” Anthony started scribbling on his notepad as she was in the middle of speaking.

“No friends. No family. I’m by myself.” His answer left her stunned and heartbroken.

“I’m… I’m so sorry….” She whispered.

“It’s ok. I prefer it that way.” Anthony replied and Miranda looked up into his ice blue eyes once again.

“Maybe one day you’ll tell me your story, Mr. Mystery Man.” She joked, “Look, I don’t have anything to do today and I don’t go to work until later tonight, so you’re gonna have to deal with me atleast for today. We can talk if you want, but I’m down for just good old silence too.” She admitted, tapping the bed before getting up to change.

The rest of the day was pretty much a blur for Anthony. He was in and out of sleep due to the pain medication, which he was extremely grateful for, and the times that he was conscious, he spent them watching Miranda. It was almost like going to a zoo and examining an animal close up. He didn’t often take jobs that had women as the target, and with those he did the women he killed were nothing like Miranda. Honestly, in his eyes, he’d never met anyone like Miranda. Here was this stunningly beautiful woman with childish interests whom he assumed would’ve ran as far away from him as possible, and yet she stayed and took care of him. Not to mention the odd quirks about her he noticed. She kept playing with a ring on her finger, spinning the small metal item round and around at practically all hours. She would also chew on her own hair whenever she seemed to be in intense thought or when she was frustrated about something. The thing that Anthony was most fascinated by was the large pair of baby pink headphones she wore most of the day. They had plastic cat ears stuck to the top and he wondered if she was playing music in them or if they were being used to silence everything else.

As day turned to night, Anthony woke up yet again from one of his medication induced naps to the sound of Miranda humming. Looking over, he spotted Miranda pulling her shoulder length teal hair into a ponytail. However, the shocking thing about the sight before him was that Miranda was no longer wearing the beautiful pastels she was dressed in earlier. Now she was sporting a dark purple blouse and a pair of fitted black trousers. He sat up in bed a bit too quickly, groaning in pain and alerting Miranda.

“Morning sleepyhead.” She teased until she noticed the concerned look on his face, “What’s the matter?” Anthony immediately grabbed the notepad and paper and began writing.

“What the hell are you wearing?” His words were shakily and hastily written, and Miranda almost laughed at how quickly he had written them out of concern.

“Anthony, this is the kind of thing I wear to work. I’m a bodyguard and a security guard.” She explained, causing Anthony to relax but also raise a confused eyebrow.

“YOU’RE a security guard? You? You certainly don’t look like you’d be a successful one.” He wrote, his blunt words making Miranda smirk and cross her arms.

“That’s the whole point. It’s fun making people think I’m this weak, helpless little girl who can’t defend herself, only for me to then beat their asses within an inch of their lives.” Miranda giggled softly and Anthony stared at her in awe. He didn’t even respond as Miranda finished getting ready. He just watched her grab her things and slide on her shoes before approaching him once more.

“So I won’t be back until later tonight, but I left my phone number right here.” She tapped a small piece of paper on the side table, “I also have cameras set up around the apartment, just in case, but don’t worry I’m not spying on you naked or anything. You get some rest and I’ll see you later.” Miranda smiled and waved at him before she left the apartment, locking the door behind her. And for once in the last two days, Anthony was completely alone in Miranda’s apartment.

Despite how exhausted he was, despite how much pain he was in, Anthony was absolutely going to use this solitude to his advantage. Using every ounce of energy he had left, he stumbled out of bed and firmly grabbed onto the cane. Miranda’s apartment was decently sized, despite only housing one person. She had one bedroom, one living space, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and an absolutely tiny balcony off the bedroom space. As he began to look around, Anthony couldn’t help but laugh at how Miranda kept her apartment. Compared to the place he called home, Miranda’s home was covered in clutter. Pastels covered every square inch he could see, plushies and figurines on her shelves indicating that she had a particular fondness for the brand Sanrio. He winced as he started limping around the room, doing his best to stay upright while also keeping himself safe and examining the place from top to bottom.

Her closet was surprisingly contradictory, one half full of the rainbows and pastels that made sense, the other half all black and dark colors. Given what she walked out of the apartment wearing, he assumed those were strictly her work clothes. Anthony had a strange thought that he really didn’t like seeing her in her work clothes. When he hobbled into the living room and the kitchen area, his eyes widened in awe. There were quite a few bookshelves full to the brim with both collectibles and books of all varieties. There was also what appeared to be a small set of workout equipment in the corner which threw him for a bit of a loop. But if she was a security guard as she said, it made sense that she needed to be physically fit.

A devilish thought that he’d love to watch her work out one day flickered through his mind and made him shiver. The thought of her body moving and sweating with the effort of physical activity made him growl quietly in his chest. He stored that particular thought for later when he spotted his sliced up suit folded on the kitchen table. His suits were all bespoke, as he had plenty of money to afford them, so it was a bit heartbreaking to see one of his favorites in this condition. But luckily for him, Miranda hadn’t dug through all of his pockets, as he found his cigarettes and his lighter in his hidden pocket. He silently thanked whatever god was out there and limped to the balcony for a smoke. The odd thing, Anthony thought, was that he didn’t really pick up smoking as a stress relieving habit, he picked it up because it felt right in his mouth. He’d always had a bit of an oral fixation, so when he found cigarettes, they scratched that very specific itch he had for holding something in his mouth and his hand at the same time.

Taking a huge drag of his newly lit cigarette, Anthony looked out over the city. Despite the intense pain in his chest from the broken ribs and the stab wound, Anthony let out a sigh when he blew out the smoke. His mind couldn’t stop thinking about both Miranda and Dylan. He had saved Dylan’s life for a reason, he had kissed her believing that she was just the same level of fucked up as he was, and she had kissed him back which all but confirmed his hypothesis. But she also didn’t go looking for him after he fell. She didn’t bother to check the alley for his body after Seamus fell on top of him. She and the Angels just left him there, assuming both he and Seamus perished. Anthony made sure Seamus didn’t make it out alive, that much was certain, but when he ran out of that alley and didn’t see even a flash of her beautiful red hair, his heart broke a little. Whatever possible hope he had for them working out vanished when she did. Anthony had been completely ready to die on that sidewalk, heartbroken yet content with his life.

But he hadn’t died. He had been found by his beautiful blue haired savior. Miranda saved his life and took him in and now Anthony didn’t know what to do. He was already healing faster than a normal person, so he could probably leave in less than a week or two, but the idea of leaving Miranda alone was gnawing at him. He took another deep drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out angrily. Why was he already feeling this way over a woman he barely knew? Atleast with Dylan he knew a little about her, hell he knew exactly what both Knox and Seamus knew about her, but Miranda was a complete mystery.

And that’s when he realized that that was part of what drew him to her. She had no idea who he was. She was completely innocent and pure in all of this. None of his enemies knew she existed and no one had any eyes on her. He was also presumed dead at this point. He could fade into the shadows, live a normal life at this point if he wanted to. But Anthony didn’t want to be normal. He enjoyed being an assassin because he was able to take out the guilty and the evil people of the world that the law just let slip under the rug. He had that job for a reason and he was good at it.

But Anthony still wanted to see what Miranda was all about. And since she wasn’t on anyone’s radar, he didn’t think it’d be too bad for his career if he played the helpless victim for just a little while longer. Anthony smiled to himself at the thought of staying by Miranda’s side. She had similar quirks to his own and he liked not being alone in that regard. And as he put out his cigarette, Anthony continued to smile and shook his head. Maybe he needed a small break from his world of darkness and blood and shadows. Maybe he could use a little fun time amongst the sunlight and the pastel rainbow.

He chuckled to himself as he crawled back under Miranda’s white and pink comforter, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes before rubbing the chunk of blue hair along his cheeks to comfort him.

Maybe this isn’t so bad after all… He thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep once more.

[stainedlilac]

Thin Man's always watching

REDBUBBLE-PRINTS-COMMS-ETSY

[trulygreatfanfiction]

[CHARLIE'S ANGELS]

Wet Red

Dylan Sanders is being followed.

Though he doesn't think she realizes it. He walks so softly, blends in so well with the shadows that she can't see him when she peers back at the dark, rain-swept street.

By Syn

Teen

Here

[monakisu]

more shido's cognitive goro being a creepy horror monster please!!! i wish there'd been more build-up to his presence in the ship, like the occasional pair of red pinprick pupils watching from the shadows, some disjointed footsteps in an otherwise empty room, the player noting a foreboding feeling of being watched, movement disappearing around a corner the second you step foot into a new room, etc etc etc...

he's just suchhh a weird creature. a doppelgänger with twisted ideals and thoughts deeply different from the original’s. who knows what the hell he’ll do? he’s unpredictable!! and a cutie pie :]

[kazu-naito]

amen this, amrit that, yadda yadda yadda, but yall are forgetting the real red flag li:

brian fucking baker

[ganglygamer]

Had a freedraw period during my painting class and decided to make Concept Thinman with acrylics.

Based on these images from the artbook (the ones on the left and right):

[schiz0doll]

[labyrinthphanlivingafacade]

this came to me in a dream

[hotmonkeelove]

If crushing on him is wrong, I don't want to be right!

My taste in men isn't that concerning 🙄

[keikoyume]

What character (child or adult) from Little Nightmares would you like to redesign?

I mean we kinda all redesign the characters by drawing them in our own style haha!

But let's just say the Lady and Thin Man.

They both look bland to me, especially for the lady.

I usually draw her with an actual kimono and for Thin Man... I would give him a tie and he would be creepily smiling with a more deformed face just like in his concept arts

JUST LOOK AT THOSE and tell me the final result isn’t bland.

WHERE’S MY CREEPY BROADCASTER, LN2?

Oh and when I think about it, I would make the granny creepier just like she’s presented in her concept arts, probably with hollow eye sockets or very big and dark pupils, and her body would be a bit decayed because of the humidity in her area, I feel like her final design is too goofy.

Just my opinion!

[mariocki]

Shadows of Fear: Did You Lock Up? (1.1, Thames, 1970)

"And they didn't make much mess?"

"No, not really. They forced that door. Smashed the cabinet, slashed a sofa. And kicked a hole in the bedroom door."

"Ah. Big mistake."

"What is?"

"Never lock inside doors. Anything you can to keep them out - but when they're in, let 'em get on with it."

"I'll remember."

[manyimaginativemuses]

Lend Me Your Voice (Thin Man/Anthony X Original Character) - Chapter 1

Summary: The Thin Man swore he was dead. He had made it about five blocks before he passed out. He was honestly ready to die, after all he had saved Dylan and the Angels’ lives. O’Grady was dead and he was well on his way to joining him in hell.

That is until he heard a voice beckoning him back to Earth. Despite the blood in his eyes, the sight of a full head of shocking blue hair and vibrant eyes told him to hold on. Something in this cold cruel world didn’t want him dead yet, and whatever that something was, it had thrown Anthony directly into Miranda Sullivan’s path. And there was no way she was letting this man die in the street….

Chapter warnings: blood, possibly inaccurate descriptions of emergency medical treatment

((Yes I’m writing a fic for a completely dead fandom because I am head over heels obsessed with Anthony and I needed to give him love. He deserves it))

Read on AO3

Tagging @vereorr @werewolf-on-high @labyrinthphanlivingafacade @stainedlilac

“Holy shit, Miranda get your ass out here!” The loud voice of her coworker reached Miranda’s ears as she was carding yet another freshly 21 year old who wanted entrance to the club. She was working security that night, things hadn’t been too bad as per usual, but then she heard Darius’s voice calling her name. And when she came out front, Miranda gasped in horror at the sight in front of her. There was a finely dressed man covered in blood and debris lying on the ground in front of the club, his legs visibly injured and what appeared to be an exit wound on his back.

“OH MY GOD!” Miranda rushed to the man’s side. She had been an RN once and had graduated nursing school, which is why Darius called for her rather than anyone else, and why she was so quick to pull off her jacket and use it to stop the bleeding on his back wound, “DARIUS CALL 911!” She shouted. However, the second she did so, the man she was helping reached up and grabbed her leg. She screamed in surprise and looked down at him, her face softening when she saw him. He was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen. His ice blue eyes were haunting and full of pain, his cheekbones sliced to bits from broken glass and an expression of fear clear on his face. When he got her attention, he used the blood dripping off his hand to barely write something on the concrete as best he could.

“NO HOSPITAL”

Miranda stared at the message and looked at the man. She knew he needed medical attention, but then again she didn’t know his story. She didn’t want to accidentally send him back into the clutches of a potential abuser by bringing him to a hospital, but she also didn’t want him to die out here on the street.

“Fuck shit, goddammit, Darius help me carry him to my apartment. Tell Jade I’m taking the rest of the night off, it’s an emergency.” Miranda demanded as Darius looked at her shocked and confused. He was on the phone with 911 but with the glare Miranda gave him, he told them never mind and hung up.

“I swear to god Miranda, you better call 911 if he tanks.” Darius then scooped up the injured man into his arms and Miranda followed behind him as they ran across the street to her apartment complex. She was so grateful she lived nearby, otherwise she wouldn’t have even considered not sending this man to the hospital.

“Put him on the bed, grab my emergency med bag from my bathroom, and get the fuck out. I’m already overstimulated as it is, I love you Darius, but I need to be alone with my patient right now.” She spat, chuckling softly as she could hear Darius muttering to himself from the bedroom. As soon as she got her shoes off and her keys in the bowl, she bolted into the bedroom and found the man lying on some towels that Darius was kind enough to put down first so her bed wasn’t covered in blood.

“You sure you don’t need me for anything?”

“Darius what the fuck did I just say?!” She shouted at him and the man raised his hands in defense before leaving.

Suddenly it was just Miranda and the dying stranger she’d pulled into her apartment.

“Ok handsome, I’m not letting you die on me tonight.” Miranda yanked on a pair of gloves from her bag as she began to pull and cut his suit off. He was making noises of pain and discomfort, but all she could do was give gentle apologies as she continued her work.

However, the sudden and immediate yanking of her hair pulled her out of her emergency mode.

“OW WHAT THE FUCK?!” She yelped as the man had ripped out a decent chunk of her hair when she got close to his face to check for any other injuries. She was about to curse him out again until she saw him frantically sniffing and rubbing the hair against his face.

”Oh lovely, I got a fucking tweaker on my hands, great..” She thought to herself as she continued. Miranda had tried to ask him questions, tried to get him to say anything, but he was silent the whole time other than just a few moans and groans of pain. The main thing that needed to be taken care of was the massive chest wound which she had packed with gauze.

“Ok handsome, you need to sit up now, I gotta get this hole cleaned up.” Miranda said sweetly and the man nodded weakly, crying out in pain when he was sat upright. She surmised he probably had a few broken ribs but those she couldn’t do anything about. Luckily the wound was a clean shot through but surprisingly wasn’t bleeding too excessively. It seemed to have missed any major arteries and didn’t hit his heart, which was incredibly lucky given it was on his left side. Digging through her emergency bag, she sighed heavily when she knew she’d have to use her stash of morphine that she’d stolen from her med school. She’d nearly gotten caught when she grabbed the vials, but she wanted them for emergencies like this.

“You’re not on any other drugs right now are you? I need you to be honest here Mr. Silent!” Miranda demanded and the man weakly shook his head no, “Fuck I have to take your word for it. Please don’t haunt my ass if you’re lying.” She then injected him with a decent amount of morphine that she guessed would work for his weight. She then crawled onto the bed behind him before handing him a wooden spoon she’d grabbed earlier from her kitchen.

“Bite down on this.” She instructed, making sure he held it between his teeth before she properly started cleaning out the exit wound on his back. She couldn’t wait for the morphine to kick in as she didn’t want him bleeding out, but she also knew she couldn’t risk infection since they weren’t in a hospital, so she knew this would hurt like hell. And hurt it did as he immediately began screaming into the spoon when she started cleaning and disinfecting his back wound. However once she did, she immediately started stitching it up right as the morphine started to kick in and his screams got lower and lower. Miranda thanked every god out there she was still wearing her sensory earplugs she wore whenever she worked at clubs because she knew she’d be thrown into a meltdown if she had to hear his screams unfiltered.

Regardless, he was finally starting to relax as she finished stitching up his back wound. She then lied him back down and started work on his chest wound, which was far less difficult now that he wasn’t screaming his head off. However he was still rubbing the hair against his face, almost as if it was a self soothing behavior. Miranda quirked an eyebrow as she watched him, confused and curious as to if this behavior was a stim or if it was just a weird quirk of his. Soon enough though, every wound that needed stitches was cleaned and sewn back up and amazingly, she had managed to stop his bleeding all on her own. Also amazingly, his legs didn’t appear to be completely shattered as she originally thought. He definitely had two sprained ankles and was going to have some gnarly full body bruising, but his legs were just as long and thin as the rest of him once she cut his pants off and didn’t appear to have any bad breaks.

“Jesus H Christmas… you are so lucky you ran into me, handsome….” The man was staring at her properly by this point, his ice blue eyes wide and serious as he watched her. The morphine however seemed to be knocking him out as intended and Miranda flopped down into her bean bag chair beside her bed when it was finally over. She needed to take a breath and regulate herself now that the man wasn’t in critical danger anymore. But Miranda knew she probably wasn’t going to be getting much sleep that night, as she had to make sure the man survived through the night to begin with.

Anthony, however, lying on this strange woman’s bed fading in and out of consciousness, could only think of one question: Why? Why was this random woman who found him on the street taking the time and effort to save him? She had no idea who he was or what he did, but she took it upon herself to save him regardless. Anthony felt his heart clench at this strange kindness, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He thought he felt something similar less than an hour earlier, when Dylan Sanders had mirrored him on a rooftop after he saved her life. But it was clear Dylan and The Angels had other things more important to deal with than the life of some “creepy” thin assassin. For the moment though, as he was finally drifting off to sleep, he glanced over at the beautiful woman trembling in the chair beside him. Her hair reminded him of the ocean in Key West, how the sun shone off it just right that it looked like liquid blue glass. He’d pulled off a chunk of it when she got too close to his own hair, both as a deterrent from her touching it and also because he needed to stim so desperately or he was going to be even more uncomfortable than he already was. Her hair smelled like roses and rainwater as he rubbed it against his nose and cheek, a shaky sigh fleeing his chest as the scent soothed him even more than the morphine. He hadn’t really focused on her face when he was writhing in pain, but with the morphine on board, he was finally able to see and process the face of his savior. And if he hadn’t been one hundred percent sure he was still alive, he would’ve sworn he’d died and gone to heaven because the woman sitting beside him was just as beautiful if not more so, than the Angels who’d bested him so many times before. Her makeup was subtle but he noticed a star under her left eye, painted on her cheek. Her outfit was definitely less subtle, but it appeared to be her work uniform, so he didn’t pay that much mind.

The last thing he noticed before he passed out completely was the way she started chewing on her own hair when she met his gaze once more. What he wouldn’t give for her to allow him access to her hair willingly….

[multishipper-baby]

You know, I really like it when characters don't have names and are instead referred by impersonal titles or descriptors. I think it adds a little bit more mystery and appeal to them- really has the energy that nobody knows who or what they really are.

[grim-faux]

3 _ 45 _ The Trick and the Tricked

First – An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zilch response.

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

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

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

Like shriek for no reason.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tah muveus Polski?” she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A trill of alarm lit the back of his mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that had been fast. And absolutely silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hated being looked at!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stealing Her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He HATED IT!

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

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

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

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

‘It calls to me.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Little,” Mono murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next

[catinfroghat]

I already thought the brotherhood sucked but seeing Veronica's questline to the end is making me want to wipe their shitty bunker out they are the worst... Plus I'm super protective of the followers because they're just so cute they want to give medicine and food to everyone they must have been so scared when the brotherhood just came to massacre them with all their massive laser guns :(

[misterradio]

oh this guy in metropolis is played by fritz rasp oh i want to steal his name fairy style