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immeasurablesaladagere · 5 days ago

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Team "In-Over-his-Head"

Series: A Wildcard is Active

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Word Count: 5275

Summery: Mumbo is saddled with wrangling two tiny teammates: a mischievous Grian and a bloodthirsty Skizz. When Skizz runs off by himself to get a kill, Grian is tasked with leading Mumbo on a wild goose chase to keep him distracted. It turns out to be more frustrating for Mumbo than Grian planned.

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“C’mon, Grian! My pal, my buddy, my amigo. Just one hint, just ooone little hint!”

Grian snickered as he ducked around Skizz. “Nope, not telling. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Skizz pouted. “I’m a red name, Grian, I need all the help you can give me.”

That was true, he did. Grian’s choice of ally ship, though he wouldn’t trade them for anyone else, were perhaps not the most invested in self preservation; but the integrity of the game would not be sacrificed just because Skizz and Mumbo gave him puppy eyes.

“And that’s why we ought to plan! Up to the meeting tower, come on.”

Grian grinned with bubbling anticipation as they scaled the bridges up to the precariously placed meeting tower and took their seats.

Mumbo chuckled at him. “You see? You’ve got that grin on your face that I don’t like. It makes me a bit nervous, I’ll be honest.”

He smiled wider. “What? I’m not grinning! I’m perfectly serious and focused on getting your lives back this session.” They would be doing nothing of the sort, he was absolutely certain.

“Right, right. Game faces.” Skizz said, “I was thinking we get a hit on Gem or Joel, or maybe even…” He glanced over his shoulder for anyone who might’ve been listening. “Lizzie’s on the table, too. They’re all on six, it’ll be no skin off their nose, y’know?”

Mumbo scrunched up his nose. “I’m not so sure I want to tangle with Gem. That’s not how I’d like to go down to red, thanks.”

The two of them kept talking, mulling over various methods and targets, but Grian could only focus on the time. Five minutes till. Four. Three. Two.

Skizz poked him in the side of the head. “G? Are you even paying attention, dude? We need all hands on deck here!”

He held up his communicator with a smile. “Just watching the time. Whatever happens, stay in your seat, grab onto something and don’t let go in five… four…”

“Woah, what— okay! Whatever you say!” Skizz grabbed onto the sides of his chair and Mumbo hastily followed.

“Three, two…” The colourful ellipses appeared in his minds eye, “One…”

A Wildcard is Active.

He fastened his communicator back on his hip and leaned back in his chair, watching as Mumbo and Skizz sat frozen, waiting for the other shoe to drop. After a long moment of silence, Skizz hesitantly relaxed and looked around.

“…You messin’ with us, G? ‘Cause nothing’s happening on my end.”

“You’ll see. Just give it a minute.” He pulled two blocks out of his inventory and placed them on either side of his chair for stability and rested his arms on them.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna go back down. Suddenly I don’t feel safe up here.” Skizz turned to walk back across the bridge to the mountain when Grian felt the buzzing in his chest. The first thought in his mind was oh dear, here we go, and the second was that he knew what was about to happen, and if they didn’t act now Skizz was about to be out of the series right then.

He shot upright in his chair but stayed firmly put. “Mumbo! Mumbo grab him, grab him now!”

Mumbo scrambled to snag Skizz by the arm and yank him back to the platform just as the smoke appeared and he crumpled to the ground.

“Woah, G, what’s goin’ on, man!?” Skizz stared wide-eyed at his hands, which were giving off growing streams of purple smoke.

Mumbo wasn’t smoking, and Grian couldn’t help but start laughing even as his own body started to feel like jelly. “Oh Mumbo Jumbulio, you’re about to have a very fun session.”

“Wha— Grian you can’t just—!” Mumbo stammered, trying to hold Skizz upright, “What does that mean!? What’s going on?”

The purple smoke enveloped the platform, and he was out like a light.

He was roused again from his brief nap by the sound of Mumbo’s panicked blubbering. He couldn’t quite bring himself to open his eyes right away, breathing deeply through the heavy drowsiness and fading buzzing under his skin. The sleepy feeling in his arms and legs was slowly starting to go away just like it had during the tests, and his body felt much lighter. So far so good, everything’s in order. His wings twitched experimentally, squished slightly by the back of the chair, and soft fledgling feathers tickled the back of his neck. Yep, definitely working.

“Grian, what on earth is this!?” Mumbo borderline squealed, and he finally blinked open his eyes. Mumbo’s face was white with shock and he was doing his best to cradle an equally bleary-looking and tiny Skizz in his arms. He was maybe five? Possibly four.

“You’re so loud…” He complained, “Jus’ gimme a minute to be sleepy.”

Mumbo spluttered. “No! I absolutely will not do that. Explain yourself right now!”

“You didn’t go through that transformation, I don’ wanna hear it.” He said calmly, pushing himself up from where he was slumped in the chair and stretching out his new body.

Skizz was more awake now, looking down at himself, then Mumbo, then Grian and back again, eyes growing as wide as dinner plates the longer he looked. “G, this is…”

“Terrible!” Mumbo exclaimed.

“Dope!” Skizz cheered, “D’you know how many kills I can get like this? I can fit into all sorts of little nooks and crannies, it’s like Sub-One Club all over again! Well, not you, Mumbo.”

“See? That’s the spirit.” Grian said, much to Mumbo’s befuddlement.

“I— You two— So, w-wait, how does this one work exactly?” Mumbo had the funniest look on his face as he tried to wrap his head around it all, and Grian giggled at him. Apparently Mumbo didn’t see the same humour in it as he did.

“Well, have a see!” He chirped, handing him a spyglass. Mumbo carefully let Skizz out of his arms, making an I’m watching you, stay right there gesture like he was a puppy before looking out over the server.

“Oh dear, oh my…” He turned back to them. “Does every team only have one adult? Is that it?”

“Eh, close enough. It’s random, so you’ve got a 50/50 chance of staying the same,” He pointed at Mumbo, “or being kiddy-fied. Skizz got real unlucky.”

Skizz scrunched up his face. “An’ why’s that now?”

“‘Cause you got real small. You can be a bigger kid or super tiny, and you got one of the tiniest.” He said matter-of-factly. Or, as much as he could. Even after doing a bunch of tests he could never get used to how silly his voice sounded in the kid form.

“Well, if I’m one of the tiniest, you gotta be, too!” Skizz pointed out, “You’re like the same as me!”

He was hoping to get away without anyone pointing that out, but alas. He knew from the moment he got his bearings that he had landed somewhere on the smaller end of the scale. He was hoping for bigger, but he could still cause plenty of mischief like this. “Yeah, but I’m just a smidge older, so I’m still better than you.”

“What!? You are not!”

“Am too, I tested it, remember? I’m seven, an’ you’re like five! I’m way bigger.”

“No you’re not.” Mumbo said, having finally at least slightly pulled himself together, and Grian pouted at him. Betrayal. “Mate, you’re six at most, maybe even five. Oh gods, you’re six, at most...” He muttered.

Grian patted him consolingly on the knee. “There there, Mumbo. An’ I’m not five! Avians are jus’ smaller bioj— bio— agh! Bi-o-lo-gi-cally.”

Mumbo dragged his hands down his face. “This is so strange… Right, so does that mean I’m like… Your parent or something? I don’t have to watch after you guys now, do I?”

Grian shrugged and hopped off his chair. “Not if you don’t want to. You’ll just be leaving two kids defenceless and all alone in the world, but I can’t force you to do anything.”

“Hey, I ain’t defenceless!” Skizz said, but Mumbo just shook his head.

“No, Grian’s right. I can’t- You two probably shouldn’t be left alone. Especially not Skizz, I mean— what if you die? I can’t have that on my shoulders.” He looked at them seriously, and Grian had to try his hardest not to snicker. “You know what? I’m gonna be the best darn parent on this server, just you watch. Come along now, it’s not safe up here.” He ushered them back over the bridge, pushing them as far into the safety of the middle as possible.

Skizz groaned. “Nice goin’ G.” He grumbled.

Grian just laughed.

“How am I s‘posed to get a kill with you hoverin’ over me?” Skizz complained, “No offence, but I gotta go this one alone.”

Mumbo waved him off, putting plates of toast and bacon down onto a makeshift table. “We can talk about that right after a bit of breakfast, how about that? We’ve got a lot more to think about than I thought this session.”

Grian grimaced at the bacon on his plate. Right. It had been an unfortunate few hours the day he had discovered during testing that indeed all of his biology returned to his child self after the transformation. Which meant regaining the digestive system of a young avian, which meant being unable to properly digest meat. He cringed at the memory of that tummy ache.

“What’s wrong, Grian?” Mumbo asked.

“I can’t eat the bacon ‘cause I’m a small bird now...” He said sadly, “Oh, that’s the worst thing about this whole wildcard.”

“More like the best! Yoink.” Skizz reached over and snatched the bacon off his plate and onto his own.

Mumbo frowned. “Oh. Do you want me to find you something else? Do you like… uh… seeds..?”

The question was asked so hesitantly yet so genuinely that Grian had to pause for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles.

“L-Look, I don’t know, okay!?”

“Ha ha ha— seeds! Seeds, Skizz! Hee-hee-hee!” It took him a solid minute to calm down, with the mental image of shoving a handful of straight wheat seeds into his mouth causing him to break down again every time he managed to get a grip.

Mumbo’s face was as red as an apple. “Yes, yes, I get it, no seeds. It’s really not that funny, is it?”

He wiped a tear from his eye and finally took a bite of his toast when he was sure he wouldn’t choke. “It really is… I’m just a veg-e-tar-ian, Mumbo, I’m not eating straight seeds.”

“Alright then, I’ll see if we have something else you can eat. You’re not going to be full on just toast.” He got up and began rooting around through their chests. Grian watched, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“He became a mum so fast, didn’t he?”

Skizz rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Listen, G,” He dropped to a whisper and Grian’s ears perked up. Whispers were the universal language of scheming. “I gotta get a kill and Mumbo’s never gonna let me go on my own. I need you to do something for me.”

“I’m listening…”

“I need you to keep ‘im distracted for me. Lead ‘im on a wild goose chase when he comes lookin’ for me, and don’t tell him where I’m goin’, got it?”

And oh boy did he like the sound of that idea. He looked over at Mumbo, who was still buried inside their chest monster, and nodded. “Now’s your chance to escape! Go, I won’t say a word.”

“You’re the best, G. I’ll be back with a green name.” Skizz hopped down from his chair and slunk away, making a shh gesture just before ducking out of sight and breaking into a sprint. Grian smirked to himself.

Mumbo returned to the table and Grian jolted back into a ‘I wasn’t doing anything suspicious’ pose. “So we didn’t have much. I’ve got you some carrots and glow berries, but— wait, where’s Skizz?”

Grian plucked the bundle of glowberries from Mumbo’s hand and popped one into his mouth.

“Grian? Where did Skizz go?”

He shrugged. It was technically the truth, he didn’t know where Skizz was planning to go.

Mumbo made an exasperated noise and ran his hand through his hair. “Already? I’ve lost one already! Grian, you must’ve seen which way he went. It’s not safe for him out there!”

“Mm, he went tha’ way, towards the Tuff Guys.” He lied through a mouthful of berries. He forgot how good these tasted.

“Alright, well, you can eat these on the way. We’ve got to find him quickly, before he does something too rash. Oh who am I kidding? I’m sure he already has! Come on, up, up.”

“Can’t I just finish my breakfast?”

“Nope. Let’s go, show me exactly where he’s gone.”

Mumbo frowned. “And you’re absolutely certain he went this way?”

“Mhm, definitely!”

Now, call him crazy, but Mumbo got the distinct feeling that Grian was perhaps lying to him. For being so certain that Skizz had run off to the Tuff Guys not long ago, their base was very obviously deserted. He knew this because Grian had insisted on searching the entire place from top to bottom, snooping behind every chest and scouring every nook and cranny that a five year old could possibly be hiding in. Now they were at Ren and Martyn’s base after Grian swore up and down that he saw a “very Skizz-shaped blob” running through the forest nearby.

“Ren, Martyn! Are you home?” Grian called.

He had to admit, it was rather endearing to see Grian hopping about on his toes to get some height on the wall Mumbo was able to peer over with ease. Inside the walls he watched Ren haul Martyn up by the scruff of his shirt and away from where he had presumably been trying wrestling with their wolves just seconds before. As quickly as things had gone sideways with his adventure into parenthood, Mumbo supposed there were some small graces to be thankful for. Like not being forced to babysit Martyn.

“Ah, is that a little Grian I hear?” Ren said, “Hey, stop wiggling you— Come on in, dude!”

“Mumbo’s here, too!” Grian spun around and reached his arms up, making grabby hands at the air. “Gimme a boost.”

Mumbo raised an eyebrow at him. He was most definitely capable of climbing up himself, but what could it hurt to humour him? “Uh huh. Is that we ask now?”

“Please.”

“Fine.”

Grian’s little wings flapped as he hoisted him up and onto the wall, and Mumbo climbed over after him.

Ren flipped Martyn around so he was holding him like a bundle of planks under one arm and greeted them with a smile and a wave. “Good morning, Mumbo! What brings you two to our humble abode? I see you’re missing one, where did ol’ Skizzleman run off to?”

Mumbo watched as Martyn wriggled around uselessly in Ren’s grip. “Well, you see, that’s actually why we’re here. Skizz has run off by himself and we’re desperately trying to find him before he gets himself killed. Grian said he may have come by here, have you seen him?”

“Oh, I see. You’ve got a runaway, have you? Hey-!” Martyn started kicking, trying to clip Ren’s back with his shoes. “Fine, fine! You can go down. Go play with Grian or something, just no more wolf-wrestling!”

Martyn turned to stick his tongue out at them as he and Grian ran off to their towers.

Ren sighed. “He really is a handful.”

Mumbo couldn’t agree more. “Don’t I know it. It’s not even been half a day!”

“So, like I was saying, I don’t think we’ve seen Skizzly around here. I could’ve missed him though, I’ve been trying to wrangle Martyn for the past hour. He’s just got so much energy.”

He chuckled. “I did see that. Was that what the wolf-wrestling was about?”

“I told him to find something to burn off some stink and apparently that translated into ‘go fight the dogs, Martyn!’. I swear, I don’t know if it’s a kid thing or just a Martyn thing.”

“Could be both, to be fair.”

Their chit chat was interrupted by a high-pitched whoop! from above their heads, and Mumbo watched in horror as Grian, lead tied around his waist, jumped from the balcony of Martyn’s sky base and dangled mid-air. Martyn sat crouched over the ledge, tying the other end of the rope to a fencepost in as many knots as possible with the most devious grin he had ever seen on a child.

Ren yelped. “Martyn!”

Mumbo felt faint. “Grian!”

Grian cheered as he swung himself back and forth, flapping his wings. “Look Mumbo, I’m flying! Wheeee!”

“Oh my gods, Grian, get down from there!” He almost couldn’t watch. At any moment the lead could slip off his tiny body or the rope would snap and Grian would plummet to his death.

“I can’t hear youuuu!”

“Martyn Littlewood you let Grian down from there this instant!” Ren shouted. Martyn looked conflicted for a moment, but Grian put a stop to that quickly.

“Never surr-en-der, Martyn! He’s not the boss of us!”

“Oh, we’ll see about that. I’m coming up there!” Ren marched over and began climbing the ladder, and then everyone was panicking.

“Uh, Grian? He might be the boss of us, what do I do!?” Martyn fretted. Where could Mumbo get some of those intimidation skills?

Grian flailed precariously and Mumbo flinched. “Uh— uh— I dunno! Wait, yes I do! Lemme down! Cut the lead!”

“What!?” Martyn and Mumbo yelled in unison.

“Martyn, don’t you dare!” Mumbo pointed as threateningly as he could from the ground. He couldn’t go up after them in case, admins forbid, Grian took a fall, so he could only watch.

Ren was closing in on them, and right as he got his head up the top of the ladder, Martyn made his decision and cut the rope. Mumbo’s stomach dropped.

“Mumbo, catch me!”

And thank goodness, all of the reflexes Mumbo possessed in his entire body went into throwing down a bucket of water and diving into it to catch Grian just before he hit the ground. His suit was soaked through, his heart was beating like like a hummingbird, and he felt slightly dizzy, but Grian sat safely in his arms, barely a drop of water on him and cheering like he’d just had the time of his life.

“Yeah! Again, Mumbo, again!”

He let out a deep, shaky breath. “No. Never again. We’re leaving.”

Grian flopped in his arms like a bag of sand. “Awwww…”

He looked up the tower, where Ren had a pouting Martyn by the shirt yet again. “Thank you for the information, Ren, but we’ll be on our way now.”

“Alright. Good luck, dude!”

He was certainly going to need it.

From there, every single location Grian led them was turned out to be more chaos than the last. With each tizzy Grian got himself into, each hour of daylight wasted, the more frustrated Mumbo became. He was certain now that Grian was messing with him, leading him on some wild goose chase with no real end in mind. First it was dangling from Martyn’s tower; then it was letting out Gem and Joel’s farm animals where Mumbo not only had to deal with the squabbling of three children, but also put all of the animals back because he was the only one big enough to do so; then it was running off and playing hide-and-seek in a cave and forcing him to come find him; and then he tried to play chicken with the Four G’s explosive-trapped wheat fields. Now it was nearing evening, they had nearly toured half the server, and Skizz was nowhere to be seen. He had been kicked by a horse, shot by a skeleton twice in the caves, listened to tantrums, and nearly had at least three heart attacks. To say he was getting fed up would be an understatement.

And Grian appeared to be none the wiser to Mumbo’s irritation. In fact, he seemed hell-bent on making everything worse. It was obvious the wildcard was affecting Grian’s mind to an extent, but at this point he had to have known better. That was the most infuriating part of it all. He knew.

Grian abruptly stopped walking in front of him and he bumped into him.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, I’m very fragile, y’know.”

Mumbo clenched his jaw.

“Now that I think about it, I uh… I’m pretty sure I saw Skizz coming this way instead. Maybe BigB’s seen him.“

“And you’re sure? Because Grian, I’m going to be very upset if you’ve been lying to me this whole time and I’ve walked around the server for nothing.”

Grian’s eyes flickered down to his communicator and back, then he flashed a big grin. “Yep!”

So into the dark oak forest they went. Even though it was pointless, Mumbo called out Skizz’s name as they walked to no response.

“Alright, Grian. I don’t know what-“ He turned around and Grian was nowhere to be seen. Again. “Oh for Pete’s sake! Grian, get back here!”

A familiar squeaky voice called back to him.

“Oh no! Zombies! Whatever shall I do!?”

He took a deep breath through his nose and stormed in the direction of Grian’s voice, sword drawn. Only when he found the clearing, there was just Grian, two zombie spawn eggs in his hands.

“Grian, don’t you dare—“

Two zombies were suddenly lunging at him, and while he was able to take them both down without much trouble, one did manage to get a hit on him.

Grian giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world. “I got you!”

He was so distracted that he didn’t see the creeper crawling out of the brush towards him. Mumbo lurched forward and was just barely able to put his shield up in time to protect them from the blast. Grian stared at the creeper hole for a moment, eyes wide, and chuckled nervously.

“Heh, thanks for the save...”

Mumbo’s grip clenched around his shield. “Right, that’s enough of this forest.” He took Grian by the arm and half-dragged him back out into the open. Now, on top of everything, he was covered in dirt from head to toe.

Grian ruffled his feathers and brushed off the few specks of dirt he managed to get on him. “W-Well, Skizz clearly wasn’t in there. I think next—“

“No! No more, enough!”

Grian froze.

“What you don’t seem to understand is that I actually care about the wellbeing of this team! I’ve been trying to find Skizz to keep him safe, and instead I’ve been trying to save you from trying to kill yourself on purpose all day! Wasn’t it your idea in the first place for me to look after you!? What is it you want from me here, exactly?”

And he got nothing. Grian didn’t have a single thing to say for himself.

“Forget it. We’re going home. Hopefully Skizz has found his way back, because I’m done for today. Let’s go.”

Grian’s eyes were glued to his shoes as they walked silently through the field.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be causing harmless trouble and Mumbo was meant to be pulling his hair out like they always did, but now Mumbo was angry at him. Genuinely angry. The thought hurt more than it should have, and tears were burning in his eyes against his will. He tried to remind himself that it was just the wildcard talking. He wasn’t actually meant to be so upset about all this, but he was. He didn’t want Mumbo to be angry with him, he was just trying to have fun. He was just trying to help Skizz, but now he’d made Mumbo hate him.

He glanced up hesitantly. Mumbo’s back was to him, but he could still tell how angry he was. He could hear the slow, forced breaths he was taking, he could see the way his hands were clenched around his sword and shield, he could feel it.

Mumbo’s angry with you. He’s so angry with you. Why didn’t you stop? Would Skizz have been mad at you if you stopped? Was someone going to be mad at you no matter what you did?

The more he thought, the harder it became to keep the tears in. His throat ached, his eyes hurt, and his nose was getting plugged. He didn’t want to sniffle in case Mumbo heard him, but it was getting hard to breathe.

Finally, without him really noticing when, they made it home.

“I’m going to bed early tonight.” Mumbo said, not turning around, “Keep out of trouble, alright? If Skizz comes back… I don’t know, at this point. Tell him to go to bed.”

And he was about to leave. He was about to go to bed and spare Grian from the humiliation of crying in front of him, but then the pressure grew too much, and his throat hurt too badly, and he really couldn’t breathe. He sniffled, and Mumbo turned around.

“Grian? Are you… crying?”

No, go to bed please, please go away. “N-No. It’s jus’ the wildcard acting up, I’m not-“ His voice broke. “I-I’m not—“

Mumbo frowned, concerned because of course he was. “Why are you crying?”

There wasn’t a reason, not really. He’d gotten yelled at, rightfully so, and now his stupid brain was making him cry. But when he tried to say that, nothing came out. Everything he was feeling felt like it had been multiplied by a hundred, suffocating reasonable Adult Grian who would have just apologized and moved along.

He hiccuped and scrubbed at his eyes as hard as he could with his sleeves like he might be able to make Mumbo un-see. Go away tears, go away. “Thi-is is so st—stupid, m’sorry.”

Mumbo knelt down in front of him. He looked guilty, like he was the onewho had to be sorry for today. “Is it… because I snapped at you?”

He couldn’t bring himself to nod, but his silence gave it away. Tears finally began to slip down his cheeks and shame joined the cloud of emotions swirling around in his head.He knew needed to calm down, apologize properly, his breath was too hiccup-y and his body felt like he was going to explode.

“Would, maybe…” Mumbo opened his arms, “Would a hug help?”

He swallowed. It would. It would help so much, but he didn’t move. Mumbo shouldn’t be comforting him when he was the one who was bad all day. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Alright, well, my arms are getting tired now, so I’m just going to hug you, and you push me off if that’s not cool. How about that?” Mumbo wrapped his arms around him, and like a switch flipped Grian flung his arms around his neck, squeezing tight.

“M’sorry, m’really s-so—rry, I’m being dumb.”

“I don’t think you’re being dumb. You’re a kid— well, sort of, and being yelled at would freak everyone out. Even me, and I’m not in the body of a child.” He chuckled lightly, and why did Mumbo have to be so good at making him feel better? That wasn’t fair! He didn’t deserve it at all, he didn’t—

“What was that, Grian?”

“I-I said I don’ d-deserve this!” He cried, “I was bei-ng bad a-all day and now you’re tryin’ to make me feel better! T-That’s not how it’s s’posed to work! You’re s’posed to be mad at me!”

Was this a tantrum? Oh gods. He was trying to apologize and he was only making it worse.

Mumbo was quiet for a long moment, thinking probably. About what? How silly Grian was being? Or worse, about how he was pretending not to be angry for his sake?

“How about this,” He finally said, “You let me worry about what I should and shouldn’t be mad about, hm? And I’ve worried on it, and I say that I’m not angry anymore.”

No. That wasn’t what he wanted. Sure, a small part of him was cheering with joy that Mumbo wasn’t angry with him anymore, but the other part only got more upset. “O-Only ‘cause I’m crying…” He mumbled bitterly.

“Hey now, you’re not listening to me. I said I’m not angry anymore, I didn’t say why, did I?”

And no, Grian supposed he didn’t. He drew in his first proper breath in a while. “Then why aren’t you? ‘Cause you should be.”

Mumbo slowly eased them out of the hug and childishly, Grian wanted it back. “Well, because I’ve had time to calm down and think about it, just like you have.” Mumbo took a big deep breath, and motioned for him to do one too. “See? I also figured there was probably a reason you were acting that way. Am I right?”

Grian nodded. He supposed now was a good a time as any to give up the ghost. “Uhm… This morning, S-Skizz asked me to keep you busy s-so he could go get a kill in secret.” He admitted, “It wasn’t s’posed to go all day, but he never got a kill so I just kept going. I’m really sowwy, Mumbo.”

Wait.

Mumbo snorted, and Grian’s cheeks just about burst into flames. “Sorry! I meant sorry!” He hid his face in his hands, “Oh my gosh I hate this. Whose idea was this!?”

“Yours, mate.” Mumbo chuckled, standing and ruffling his hair. “Now come on, I wasn’t kidding about being knackered. It’s bedtime, for both of us.”

On cue, the ten minutes of crying finally settled over him, and he yawned. “Fine by me.”

Instinctively he started following Mumbo up to the stair landing where he kept his bed, and the fact that he had his own across the chasm completely skipped his mind.

…Until Mumbo pointed it out.

“Oh, coming to bed with me, are we?”

Goodness gracious what was wrong with him? “R-Right! Sorry, heh, I’ll—“

“You can sleep here if you want. I’d say there’s enough room for two on this bed, with how tiny you are.”

“Well now, that’s just disre— dis- oh forget it. Mean.”

“Oh I know, I’m so cruel to you, Grian. Come on, hop up.” He held up the covers for Grian to climb underneath.

It was incredibly undignified, just how much he had to kick his feet and flap his wings to haul himself up onto the mattress, but he made it. He yawned again. Definitely time for bed.

Mumbo tucked them in soundly, and after one last quick check for mobs, laid down for the night.

“Goodnight, Grian.”

“G’night, Mumbo.”

Grian woke up what felt like only minutes later to the bed dipping. It was pitch black out, but the soft glow of Skizz’s halo lit up his face as he crawled up beside them. His eyes were still red.

“Mm... Skizz?”

“Hey G-man. Thanks for keepin’ Mumbo off my tail today. How’d it go?”

“All that, and you didn’t even get a kill?” He mumbled blearily, mostly to himself.

“Hey, rude. But listen, I have a plan, I just need some more time. D’ya think you can cover for me tomorr—“

Grian blinked at him once, twice, then rolled over and buried himself back under the blankets. “No way. Never again, Skizz. Never again.”

#agere blog #sfw age regression #sfw agere #age regression #fandom agere #fanfic #traffic agere #traffic smp #trafficblr #traffic series #life series #wild life smp #wild life #grian #mumbo jumbo #skizzleman #hurt/comfort #literal age regression

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bodega-catto · 6 months ago

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The only character that I think truly deserves the title of “MOTHER” is Katniss Everdeen let’s be for real. Her kind, sacrificial nature. The braveness on each of her acts. The caring way in which she looks out for the weak. Her first response is always to caress instead of hurt. Yet she’ll bite the strongest when met with force.

#you guys don’t understand she’s literally a mother but in the way a big sister is a mother #I love her #she is truly my one comfort character #yeah I watched an edit of her just now LOL #thg series #thg #thg tbosas #catching fire #mockingjay #the hunger games #katniss everdeen

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novuit · 1 year ago

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Been watching Brideshead Revisited alot, recently

#hetalia #hws england #aph england #my art #Bridehead Revisited is my comfort series #And Arthur is literally Sebastian Flyte #brideshead revisited

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goemon-fan · 9 months ago

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This was easily one of the best Lupin episodes

#there will be a rant in the tags that you can ignore #but it is so upsetting how modern/current lupin took away the depths of these characters and flimsily tries to restore their earlier depth #i'm one of those people who craves depth in what i watch and it's so difficult to like this franchise because it will be so close to doing #something interesting only to abandon it #this episode and part one as a whole was peak lupin in my opinion with each character having emotional depth yet flaws to overcome #yet modern lupin would have you believe that these characters don't desire to improve in any capacity #if we were to just focus on Goemon for example right here he shows depth with revealing hidden emotional maturity and empathy for Lupin by #comforting him and admitting he himself is afraid (which is a big deal for a character like him who is supposed to be unflinching)#but in modern lupin goemon will literally say that he's not afraid of anything and this is written without any hint of irony or depth #i'm okay with mindless entertainment and i understand that this is a series simply about stealing but the character assassination is so #disappointing #and when this series does try to be “deep” they pick the most triggering subject matter possible to depict to the point where it's #practically unwatchable (this is in reference to Part 4 and its constant SA plots as well as the rampant gratuitous child abuse plots #throughout the entire series)#i want so badly to love lupin the 3rd but it's a huge problem when fanfiction understands the characters better than the source material #lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin the 3rd #goemon ishikawa xiii #goemon #arsene lupin iii #jigen daisuke #daisuke jigen #fujiko mine #part 1

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urdepressedslut · 2 years ago

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Stray ❝part six❞

♡ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader/The Winter Soldier x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You run into someone from the past, no way this can be real? Bucky finds you in distress, and is there to comfort you.

♡ Warnings: dark themes, angst, abuse, nightmares, fluff, language

Part 7

After sitting on the porch steps until the sun went down, you headed inside without another word to Bucky. Desperately needing your brain to shut off, no more thinking.

But you were never that lucky.

You stayed curled up on your bed, having a staring contest with the ceiling until your body didn’t have the strength to keep your eyes open anymore. You wish it didn’t have to be so difficult, but you didn’t complain, and welcomed the darkness.

For the first time, your mind wasn’t wandering, wasn’t latching onto horrifying memories to drown itself in. Instead, you found nothing, like a blank page in a notebook. Nothing pulled your focus, only the never ending emptiness. Although unsettling, you welcomed the view immediately.

Until a loud scream from downstairs frazzled you from your thoughtless sleep.

Sitting up in bed, your body felt tingly, skin erupting in goosebumps in fear. It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake in the middle of the night. The strange, eerie noises weren’t new to you either, but something about the way that scream sounded, it had been too clear.

In nothing but your silk nightgown, you padded down the stairs, in random curiosity. You should’ve been more scared, but perhaps this was becoming your normal.

The house was dark, and deadly silent. Only the sound of the creaking steps could be heard.

“(Y/n)…”

A voice whispered from downstairs, making you clench your fists anxiously, forcing yourself to swallow through the tightness of your throat.

You couldn’t distinguish the voice, it didn’t sound like Bucky. The thought of someone breaking into the house added more panic, and you couldn’t help your mind to wonder first…

Was Bucky okay?

Making it all the way down the stairs, you were met with darkness, the house looking vacant. Bucky was nowhere to be seen, his makeshift bed on the living room couch, gone.

“Bucky?” You whispered out, hoping he was around somewhere.

Your chest suddenly ached, the familiar burn returning in your nose. The thought worked it’s way to the front of your mind.

Did he leave me?

You couldn’t help the tears that trailed down your cheeks, the betrayal physically trying to rip your heart from your chest. Soon you were quietly sobbing, gripping the couch cushions from behind, occasionally clenching your eyes shut, opening them in hopes he’d appear. The threat of an intruder was forgotten, the aching pain of being abandoned consuming you.

“Sweetie?”

The horrifyingly familiar voice spoke from behind you, your whole body freezing, limbs stiff in disbelief. With a tear stained face, you turned slowly, your fear blown orbs meeting with a pair of eyes you thought you’d never see again.

“M-mommy?” You gasped out, the name sour rolling off your tongue.

Mother’s eyes held warmth, tenderness. Her smile was inviting and infectious, but you knew better. She outstretched her arms, opening them, silently inviting you to her embrace. You couldn’t help the flinch when she had moved her arms, remembering her touch too well.

Mother’s happy facade slipped the slightest bit, falling back into a fake smile when she caught your flinch.

“Come here daughter.” She cooed, her voice smooth like honey, mocking the warmth a true Mother would have.

Your feet were frozen in place, body shaking slightly in panic. She couldn’t be back, no.

“This isn’t real.” You muttered to yourself, digging your fingernails into your palm, cutting the delicate skin in attempt to wake from this nightmare.

“Oh honey… It’s very real. I’m real. I’m not dead.” She told you genuinely.

Tears unknowingly began to fall from your eyes again, overwhelmed with the image of your Mother standing before you.

“Yo- you’re d-dead.,” You mumbled to yourself, You’re dead.” You continued to repeat, hoping that you’d somehow believe yourself.

“That’s all you want you little bitch! Wishing I was dead! You’re a waste of space you fucking demon!” Mother spat venomously, the false warmth and comfort gone like it had never existed.

Flinching back from her words, you couldn’t help but be ashamed at the normalcy of it all. This was your normal, or it used to be that is.

“Not real… You’re not real.” You repeated, heart pounding, your ears ringing in alert.

Your mumbling only made her angrier, though she hadn’t made a move towards you yet, the suspense of when she’d pounce was killing you.

“You’ll see soon enough how real I am… When I’m cutting off your chest while you’re still awake! Then you’ll see how real I fucking am!” Mother screamed, her threat chilling, bile collecting in your throat.

“No…” You whimpered out, ”You’re not—”

“You finish that and I will shatter your fucking spine, you hear me?” Mother warned, taking slow steps towards you.

Feeling the bile threatening to shoot up, you keep your lips sealed. Trembling, tears painting your cheeks, neck and chest.

“I just wanted to see my daughter,” She spoke softly suddenly, “But I can see you’ve been bad. You know what has to happen, right honey?”

A sob escaped your lips, the scars littering your back aching from just the thought of what was to come.

“Now, turn around. Take your dress off.” She demanded.

Almost instinctively, you had turned around with swaying steps, sliding your gown off, and kneeled to the floor. The tears were trailing faster down your cheeks now, in defeat. The sound of her whip was much like an old friend, familiar. You had been in this position many, many times.

Except before, you didn’t know of Bucky. Now as you prepared to count your slashes, you let your mind wander to Bucky. In a way, you felt comforted, despite him leaving you. The warmth you felt in your chest when you thought of him could not be avoided.

“Stupid girl.” Mother hissed, before letting her whip fly. The last thing you felt, was the agonizing burn on your back, before everything went black.

Bucky was staring into the wall, in hopes his brain would eventually shut off. His mind was everywhere, paranoia mixed with restlessness. Joy mixed with confusion. And then there was you.

He fought to keep himself from drowning in the sea that was you. He couldn’t help but feel some sort of attachment to you. You cared for him at his worst, even after getting to know him little, you offered your home. You were sweet and gentle, only ever doing what would make him comfortable, happy. You actually saw him as a person.

He didn’t know how long you’d let him stay until you got annoyed of his presence. But he’d stay as long as you allowed him to, until you sent him away. Even then, he’d want to stay. But if you told him to go, he’d do it in a heartbeat. He felt like he owed his entire life to you.

A startling thud against the window had him jumping from his spot, standing up defensively. His heartbeat was threatening to burst out of his chest, his pupils blown in fear. Afraid that they finally found him.

With cautious steps, he made his way to the window, the one that now had a small crack in it. With furrowed brows, and was going to head outside to investigate further.

Until he heard you screaming from upstairs.

Immediately, adrenaline was pumping through his veins. His body on high alert because you were in distress. Without hesitation, he forgot about the thud against the window, sprinting up the stairs.

Your screams were getting louder the closer he got to your room, which he’d never been in. Now that he was close to your door, he could hear the pure terror and desperation in your screams, causing his heart to ache.

Deciding that now wasn’t the time to be polite, he swung the door open, only to physically feel his heart break at the sight in front of him.

You were on the floor in front of your bed, nightgown pooling around you, leaving you bare. Thrashing around, with your eyes clenched shut, you were holding onto the edge of the bed frame, exposing your scarred back to him.

Bucky quickly sensed that you were having a nightmare, and without thinking, he ran to you, squatting down to your level.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)?!” Bucky spoke desperately, letting his hands cradle your face, attempting to wipe away the tears.

“It’s just a nightmare! I’m here with you!” He spoke loudly, listening to your screams die down, while your sobbing quieted.

Suddenly, you opened your eyes with a pained gasp, eyes wide, pupils blown in panic. You looked around in paranoia, the nightmare still fresh on your mind.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re okay.” Bucky told you softly, his gentle voice soothing you.

Your eyes locked on his and you felt your entire body relax, despite being so vulnerable, nude in front of him. You wanted nothing more than to feel safe and protected in his arms.

“Bucky…” You whimpered, voice hoarse and desperate.

Bucky’s eyes softened at your weak voice, his hands releasing your face, hovering by his sides.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. Nothing is gonna hurt you.” He told you genuinely, his voice quiet and gentle, making sure he didn’t scare you.

Without another thought, you launched yourself in his arms. Burying yourself into his chest, snuggling your face in the crook of his neck. You kept your arms cradled to your chest, attempting to mold yourself into him.

Bucky’s eyes widened at your sudden movements, his body freezing up at the feel of your body so tightly snug against his. He could feel your body trembling, he could feel your erratic breath, warm against his neck.

You felt his body go rigid from your touch, and immediately you felt guilty. You knew he didn’t like to be touched, but you desperately needed a comforting hold. You needed his touch.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s rigid body was only because he was so shocked. The feeling of your body finally pressed against him. The warmth melting into his skin from yours. Your skin feeling as soft as he had imagined it would be. He couldn’t believe he’d been near you for months, without being able to feel your gentle touch. Now that he’s gotten a taste, he didn’t want to go without it. He was starved of touch, and you were suddenly filling the void.

Snapping out of his shock, he let his palms gently touch your textured back, feeling you lean into his touch immediately. He slowly pulled you tighter against him, fully wrapping his arms around you, caging you in his protective embrace.

You sighed into his neck, feeling his arms curl around you just how you needed them to be.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, (Y/n).” Bucky whispered, internally promising to be your protector.

This time, tears of relief and happiness started to run from your eyes. The moisture rubbing against his neck, only making him hold you tighter. You had never felt so protected, in his arms you felt invincible.

You tried to speak, but couldn’t find the energy to move your mouth. Your entire body exhausted. Instead, you shifted slightly, snuggling comfortably in his arms, letting your eyes shut.

You were quickly falling into a peaceful slumber, knowing you had someone to protect you while you were away.

Bucky’s heart swelled at your fragile, curled up form in his lap. Moving himself slowly, he leaned back up against the bed, holding you in his arms.

And before you were completely out, you heard the faintest whisper.

“My guardian angel.”

A/N: omg they touched 🥹 pls let me know if you’re missing from the taglist, and i’ll add you! how��d you like this part?? love feedback! 🤍

TAGLIST: @tortilla-maria1 @lizslibrary @sebastians-love @xiaosluvr @navs-bhat @ragingrainbowshipl @delicatecapnerd @buckybarnesandmarvel @viperchick47 @hunitweet @vixi-3303 @buckyb-stan @happinessinthebeing @mirtaqueen

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whumpy-wyrms · 11 months ago

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The Last Lab Rat #12: Fever Dream

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content: lab whump, captivity, fever, drugging, comfort, electrocution, parent death mention, winged test subject whumpee, scientist carewhumper

—

Dew was getting closer and closer to escape, and he couldn’t be more terrified.

The past week, he had been planning a real escape with his little snake friend. He and Sasha had been crawling through the vents every night, mentally mapping out every twist and turn, every exit and entrance, every dead end. It was hard without a flashlight, but they would make do. The two of them decided to take it slow; no use rushing something and risk being caught, having the entire plan ruined.

They weren’t in a hurry. They knew Dew’s escape plan had to be absolutely flawless, with no possible way of getting caught. So even if it took weeks, they would take it slow.

But after everything, lying to the scientist was taking a toll. Dew had accidentally constructed an intricate web of lies he had to constantly keep track of. If Anton confronted him on just one hole in his stories, Dew would be done for. He’d crumble, too scared for what would happen if he kept lying.

So Dew tried to avoid his captor growing suspicious at all costs with the only way he knew how. Dew hated talking to Anton like a friend, having friendly conversations with the scientist after experiments, talking about his life, laughing, smiling. But gaining Anton’s trust was a priority. Besides, if Dew did get caught in this web of lies, maybe his captor would go easy on him because of this.

It was about a week after he met Sasha, and Dew found himself with a terrible headache, right after waking up. The lights were off, so it must’ve been early in the morning. He rolled over and held his head in his hands, feeling the heat radiating off of him. His stomach felt like shit too. No. Was he getting sick? He supposed that made sense, considering how long he’d been here. But this certainly wouldn’t help things.

Dew laid there for hours, unable to fall back to sleep. Eventually, the lights clicked on, making him wince and squeeze his eyes shut. A little bit after that, he heard the sound of footsteps walking up to his room.

“...Dewey? Are you okay?” Anton asked, walking into Dew’s room and putting the tray of food on his nightstand. The truth was, Dew looked like absolute shit. He was racked with sniffles and coughs, with piles of used tissues littered around him. Oh. Anton’s lab rat must be coming down with something.

Dew only mumbled an incomprehensible response, curling into himself and moving deeper under the warm blankets, as if searching for a false sense of security. Anton walked closer, now noticing that Dew’s wings were trembling.

“Hey, Dewey? What’s wrong?” Anton’s voice came out soft, quiet, as if he didn’t want to scare the little guy more than he already was. “Are you sick?”

“What does it look like?” Dew hissed, but his voice came out groggy and strained. He sounded absolutely miserable. He looked miserable. “I’m sick, Anton, obviously. I probably have a fever or something.” The scientist tilted his head and reached out his arm to Dew’s forehead, trying to feel his temperature.

“Don’t touch me.” Dew flinched back and swatted Anton’s hand away with his wing. He turned his body to the other side and buried his face into his pillow. “Just leave me–” Alone. Dew shuddered. He didn’t want that either. His voice softened. “I mean… Can you um- j-just get me some water? Please? The stuff in the bathroom sink is gross.”

Anton stepped back, giving Dew space. “Uh, Sure.” When the scientist left, Dew had a sudden spurt of coughs and sneezes. He groaned into his pillow, wishing he didn’t feel like this.

“Here you go, Dewey.” Anton smiled and handed him the water.

“My name’s not Dewey,” Dew complained into his pillow.

Anton smirked. “What was that, Dewey? Your voice is all muffled.”

Dew immediately sat up and shot Anton a glare, then groaned in pain and held a hand to his head. Too fast. He sat up too fast and now the room was spinning and his headache was worse.

“Gimme the water,” Dew said, sniffling.

“Pfft, rude.” But Anton handed it to him anyway.

Dew flopped back down onto the bed when he was done, and rolled over. “My head hurts,” Dew said weakly. “Can you um, dim the lights a little more? It’s hurting my eyes.”

“Oh. Okay.” Anton turned the lights down until he saw Dew visibly relax.

“Thanks,” Dew said.

“Don’t mention it. But, Dewey. You can’t just stay in bed all day.”

Dew turned to look at him incredulously. “I… I have a fever I think. I’m sick. A-Anton, I can’t- I don’t feel good.”

“Well, yeah, but I can just–”

Dew squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He didn’t want to deal with Anton’s antics right now, whatever that man was planning. Dew took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking away. His eyes widened at something new. “...Wait, what is that?” He asked, surprised. He sat up and pointed to a bag that he noticed was sitting on the floor next to the wall.

“Oh,” Anton said as he picked it up. “It’s the night-light you asked for.”

Dew looked at him with a puzzled expression. “...Really?”

“Yeah, you wanted one, remember? I don’t understand all your silly fears, but whatever.” Anton tossed a strange object to Dew, and he scrambled to catch it.

The night-light in question was a little, round, white cartoonish ghost, made out of plastic with small LED lights in the middle. There were two little black dots for eyes and a small smile printed on its face. Dew turned the light on, and quickly squeezed his eyes shut at how bright it was. He turned it off, and rotated it around in his hands. It was cute, a bit silly, sure. But it was bright enough to light up the vents. It was perfect.

“Um, thanks,” Dew said. “I like it.”

“Cool. Oh! I got something else for you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Anton smiled and pulled something out of the bag. Dew looked up, right as a blur of something fluffy and white was being thrown at him. He scrambled to catch it and get a look at whatever it was. Anton snickered, standing awkwardly next to his bed. “I saw it at the store and immediately thought of you.”

Dew looked down, and in his arms was a large, very fluffy and soft… chicken plushie? “What…”

“You both have wings! You’re like a giant chicken.”

“I’m not a chicken!” Dew said angrily, clutching his plushie in his arms anyway. He had to admit, it was really soft. He had a lot of plushies back home, and he missed snuggling with them. “What is this, um, for anyway?”

“I just thought you needed a friend. I suppose it gets lonely down here without me.”

“...Yeah,” Dew said quietly. “It does.”

Anton figited and walked closer, voice turning serious. “...Dew, how are you feeling?”

“Not good. I just wanna rest. …Please.”

“Hmm,” Anton hummed. Dew broke out in a burst of coughs. “I have an idea.”

“W-what kind of idea?” Dew asked miserably. “Can I just have some headache medicine or something?”

“Yeah yeah, hold on.” Anton waved him off while fishing something out of his pocket, seemingly not paying attention to what Dew was saying at all. The scientist pulled out a tape recorder, and clicked it on. “Alright,” Anton said. “The date is Saturday, September 21, 7:32am. Test subject seems to be sick with a fever. I’ll do some tests, and then–”

“Tests?” Dew asked miserably.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t feel good, Anton. Ca-can we just take a break? For one day?”

“You’ve had a lot of breaks recently, Dew. I wanna have some fun.”

“So do I.”

Anton shrugged. “The experiments are fun.”

“They are not! They’re– They’re painful and traumatizing!” Dew wrapped his wings around himself and curled deeper into a ball.

“...What’s fun for you then?”

Dew furrowed his brows. Was Anton really asking what Dew liked to do for fun? Why did he care? “Um,” Dew began. “Playing video games, drawing, going outside, flying. Anything that, you know, doesn’t hurt.”

“Hm.” Anton sighed. He looked deep in thought, which never ended well. “There is this one thing I’ve been wanting to try out.”

“...Does it hurt?”

“It shouldn’t,” Anton shrugged. “If you behave.”

“Mmm,” Dew hummed anxiously, considering his lack of options. “O-okay.”

Anton smiled wide and ruffled Dew’s hair, who in turn, tried not to shy away from it. Behaving meant accepting Anton’s kind gestures, right?

“Okay, so I guess you wanna be healed from your fever, huh?”

“What? You can…?”

Anton rolled his eyes. “Of course I can.” He pulled out a flask of glowing fluid from behind his back, and held it out to him. “Drink this. You should go back to normal. In fact, you’ll probably even feel better than you did before.”

Dew eyed the flask warrily. It was no different from the other strange fluids the scientist makes him drink, but this gave Dew a weird feeling. It was a dark purple, with rivers of red and colorful specks flowing through it. It looked thick, with bubbles popping and floating upwards. Just looking at it made Dew more nauseous, the opposite effect it was supposed to have, Dew thought.

But he reached out to grab it anyway, like Anton said. But as he was about to grab the flask, Anton pulled it out of reach.

“Dew, your hands are shaking. I don’t want you to spill it.”

Dew glared at him. “What even is it anyway?”

“Medecine.” Not helpful. “I can’t let any spill and go to waste. This stuff is hard to make.”

The “medicine” became more and more unappealing the longer Dew looked at it. But whatever, he’d rather just get this whole thing over with. “Fine.”

Anton grabbed Dew’s chin gently, and brought the flask towards his mouth. “Open.”

Dew opened his mouth and allowed Anton to bring the flask to his lips. Dew drank it; downed it all in one go, despite the disgusting taste. Anton let go of his chin and blacked away, now looking bored.

Dew felt… wrong. The second he was done drinking it, he was hit with a wave of dizziness, and leaned back against the wall for support. His eyelids were growing heavy, and it was hard to stay upright.

“What’s… happening?” Dew asked worriedly, voice breaking.

“Shh,” Anton cooed. “Just relax. When you wake up, you’ll be back to normal.”

Dew blinked heavily and tried sitting up, but Anton firmly pushed him back down. “What–”

“Go to sleep, Dew.”

Dew shook his head lightly, trying to stay awake. But once his head hit the soft pillow, and he was wrapped up in cozy blankets, his eyes finally fluttered shut. Everything went black, and Dew drifted off into a short, peaceful sleep.

Anton stepped back and looked around the room. “Holy shit this place is a mess.”

. . .

Dew woke up to see Anton leaning over him, with his usual smirk on his face. Dew’s face scrunched up in fear and he turned his head away. He wanted nothing more than to disappear into this warm bed forever.

“How’re you feeling?” Anton asked.

Dew glared at him, but after thinking about it, Dew realized he felt better.

“Woah,” he breathed. “I feel… great.” Great as in, Dew wasn’t tired anymore. He didn’t feel sleep deprived at all, quite the opposite really. Of course, he wasn’t sick anymore either. His headache was gone and his temperature was normal. Besides the obvious, stagnant feeling of fear and dread that came with being kept captive, Dew felt okay.

“Told you.” Anton teased.

“Thanks for… helping me. Really. I felt like complete shit earlier.”

“Yeah yeah,” Anton waved him off as if it didn’t matter. “I need to keep you healthy, remember? And it’s no fun when you’re… down in the dumps.” Anton trailed off. “Just eat your food.”

Dew looked at the tray. Waffles again, an apple, and a banana. As he ate, the scientist watched him.

“So…” Dew thought about what Anton said earlier, giving the empty tray to him when he was done. “What are we gonna do now?”

“Follow me.”

They headed out of the lab and up the stairs, Dew following closely behind. The scientist said nothing as they walked, allowing tension to rise in the air.

Dew also remained silent, but his mind wandered. Whatever Anton wanted to do involved going outside again, which Dew was always thankful for. Although this time, his captor hadn’t put any restraints on his wings yet, like he always did when they went outside to keep him from flying away.

Dew looked at the scientist incredulously. What was going on? Did he forget? Was this all some test to see if Dew wouldn’t try to fly away and escape? Why?

Dew kept walking by Anton’s side, too afraid to question anything. Maybe Anton just forgot. That’d be unlikely, but still possible.

Once they entered the cabin and Dew got sight out of the window, his wings started flapping lightly, excitedly, apprehensively. He wanted to fly– he needed to fly. His captor was taunting him with this. He had to be.

“A-Anton?” Dew squeaked. He didn’t want to point out the obvious, but he’d rather Anton do something about it now, rather than find out when Dew inevitably tried to escape while out there. Because Dew already knew that he couldn’t escape with Anton around, not without being so easily mind-controlled. “You um, you for-forgot something–” He hated himself for this, but Dew already had an escape plan. This could destroy it.

“I didn’t forget anything, Dew,” Anton said smoothly. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

Dew stood, glued to his spot. “I’m not stupid, Anton,” He hissed. “The second I go outside, I-I won’t be able to resist flying away, you know this! I don’t want you to hurt me for trying to escape again! I don’t want to be mind-controlled or poked with a needle o-or never be allowed outside again, or worse, just because of a stupid mistake!” I don’t want this to interfere with the plan I already have.

“Woah, jeeze,” Anton laughed. “Relax. This isn’t a trick—”

“That’s what you always say!”

“Dew,” Anton grabbed his shoulders, making eye contact. “I can assure you, this will be fun for you. As long as you behave. You can do that right?”

“Y-yeah, I can.” But he really didn’t want to.

“I know you can.” Dew flinched when Anton patted him on the head, and then they walked outside.

When they hit the fresh, cool autumn air, Dew’s wings stretched out to feel the wind in his feathers. He wanted nothing more than to jump in the air and disappear into the trees, but he had to control himself. His wings fluttered lightly in the air, basking in the sun and savoring this new sensation of a fake freedom.

This was okay. As long as Dew focused on his sensations now, he could deal with being stuck to the ground. He could gain Anton’s trust, he could stick to the plan.

Dew followed Anton a few steps away from the front door, and then off of the porch and into the grass.

“Fly.”

The word hit his ears like a truck. It was as if the entire world stopped, and all Dew could hear was his rapidly beating heart.

“W-what?”

Anton laughed, stepping away from his test subject. “You heard me, Dewey. Fly!”

“You said this– this wasn’t a trick.”

“Not a trick,” Anton snickered. “I can assure you.”

The scientist motioned with his arms, a big grin on his face. “Go ahead, fly.”

Dew glared at him, but he didn’t waste a second. He flew. He jumped up into the air and flapped his wings rapidly, never taking his eyes off Anton and the sickeningly sweet smile on his face. Dew blinked back tears, knowing freedom was right there, in his grasp. The scientist was allowing him to fly outside unrestrained, but still, Anton would never let him go. Dew didn’t know what his game was, but he knew it wouldn’t end well for him. He knew he would lose.

Dew swallowed thickly, flying just a bit higher, expecting to be shot down by tranquilizer darts or told to stop like last time— those words flowing into his brain and controlling his movements as if he was nothing but a puppet. His heart sped up when that didn’t happen, and he flew higher. His captor wasn’t doing anything besides standing there and watching him, his figure getting smaller and smaller the higher Dew went.

Dew couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He couldn’t resist freedom being closer than it had ever been before. His wings flapped into the air with a hope that was almost too much to bear. Was he really doing this? Was this it? He reached the top of the trees, and was about to fly above the forest and into the clouds when he suddenly felt a sharp pain all over his body.

A faint “It worked!” could be heard from the ground, but that hardly mattered.

Dew screamed, his voice a shattering shriek. He grabbed at his neck– his arms– his head– but the feeling of every fiber in his body being on fire wouldn’t go away. His eyes widened as he felt himself falling, trying and failing to flap his wings and catch himself. His wings had stopped working, going limp in the air while he cried. He couldn’t fly. He flailed his arms as he plummeted to the ground, down and down and down.

Dew landed roughly on a large tree branch, getting the wind knocked out of him and scraping his arms while trying to hang on. His body stinged, splinters digging into his hands and panic rising in his gut. Dew’s grip loosened and he tumbled to the ground, with no way to soften the landing.

He laid there for a few moments, his head pounding with a terrible ringing in his ears. His wings twitched as his muscles gained control over them and his body again. Dew’s hands curled into the dirt and he scrunched up in a ball, not caring that his hair was getting tangled in the autumn leaves. He didn’t move from the spot.

“Shit.” Dew heard the scientist curse as he ran towards him. Lying there would do nothing, Dew realized. He felt his blood boil, this time in anger as he turned his head to face him.

“Wh-what did you think was gonna happen?” Dew spat, still struggling on the ground, trying to sit up.

“I didn’t think you would try flying away, since I specifically told you not to,” Anton sneered.

Dew felt venom rise in his throat. “How could I resist? You told me to fly! Why the fuck wouldn’t I try to leave?!”

“Because you should have known I’m smarter than just letting you go like that. And because you should know you’re never leaving.” Anton sighed. “Come here, I’ll help you.”

“No.” Dew blinked back tears. His arm that he landed on hurt, bad. He needed help. But fuck, he was angry. Dew huffed in frustration and crawled towards Anton, letting the scientist help him stand. Dew leaned against him as they walked towards the cabin.

“W-what even happened up there?” Dew’s voice wobbled as he spoke. “What did you do to me?”

“Oh,” Anton took out the device he used for mind-controlling him. “If you fly too far away, there’s an invisible barrier that sends a shock through your nervous system to stop you from leaving.” Anton spoke as if that wasn’t completely earth-shattering news to his little lab rat. He set Dew down on the stairs, and took out a first aid kit.

“A-Anton,” Dew began, voice wavering. “Please, p-please tell me there’s a way to turn that off.”

“There is,” Anton replied simply. “But we’ll never need to use it.” Anton started looking over Dew’s wounds. He had a lot of cuts and scrapes from falling through the trees, but nothing that couldn’t be easily patched up. “I just thought it’d be fun for you to fly outside for once, safely, without risking you escaping.”

Dew ignored what the scientist was doing and stared at him, eyes burning with hatred. He could grab the pen from his pocket and stab it into the scientist’s eye and take the device that controlled his body. He could destroy it and fly away before his captor could catch him. He could be free. Right. Now.

Dew shook those thoughts away. It was the worst idea he had ever had, and he knew it would never work. He tried to calm his racing heart, and stop the fire rising in his throat. The scientist was just toying with him. He needed to calm down before he made things worse.

He hissed back a whine as his wounds were tended to. Anton didn’t seem to care about his pain, and held Dew firmly in place.

He looked at the sky, needing a distraction. But the sun was so bright and it hurt his eyes, so he looked away. He caught a glimpse of Sasha through the cabin window, and Dew tilted his head. They were watching him. Of course, Anton had allowed Sasha free reign of his house, probably even the outside too. The two of them stared at each other. Sasha knew what he was thinking, and the snake slowly shook their head “no.” Dew knew what they meant. Don't try escaping. It’s not your time. Stick to the plan.

Despite his friend only trying to help, Dew felt himself deflate, all the hope and fiery spark of adrenaline leaving him. His only option really was to comply for now, despite being so close to freedom. It would be hard; Dew would have to force himself to fly into the cool air while not going too far away. Whatever that meant.

“What now?” Dew asked begrudgingly.

“You and Sasha done with your staring contest?”

“Uh– yeah?”

“Then keep flying out here.” Anton shrugged and sat down on the porch stairs. “It’s what you always wanted to do, isn’t it?”

“W-well yeah, but—”

“I’m not letting you go. This is the closest thing you’ll ever get.”

Dew didn’t waste his time, he jumped into the air. He hovered in front of Anton for a few seconds, before darted away into the trees. Anton smirked and leaned back against the porch railing.

Dew flew over the cabin and landed on the roof. His heart pounded through his skull and he felt like it would explode. He wanted so badly to leave, fly away and never turn back. But he knew what would happen, so he would play Anton’s game. For now.

Dew sat perched up there for a few moments, looking around him. What were the limits? Dew questioned. Despite still being trapped, he wanted to make the most of this new development. How far could he fly without his entire body being electrocuted and cause his wings to momentarily stop working? Dew shuddered even thinking about it.

He wondered what his captor was up to. Dew slowly crawled across the roof and peaked over the edge directly above the scientist. Anton looked up, Dew scurred backwards.

…There always was the possibility of Dew being able to snatch that device away from him so he couldn’t be controlled anymore. He shuddered thinking about it. The chip in his brain that allowed himself to be mind-controlled, now shocked him whenever he went too far away. It was honestly impressive how much Anton could do to him now, just to keep him his.

But Dew knew that trying to escape would be futile now. He had a plan and needed to stick to it. But… Now there was a hole in their plan. Dew couldn’t actually leave. Shit.

He would have to tell Sasha about this new development later, and fit, “stealing the device connected to Dew’s brain chip from Anton,” into their escape plan.

So for now, Dew took advantage of his free time outside. He stood on top of the roof and spread his wings out, cherishing how relaxing and satisfying it felt to finally not have them restrained outdoors. He started flying again, careful to not go too high or far and hurt himself again.

He looked down to see Anton, nothing but a fleck of dust to him at this height. It felt so surreal, like a dream. Dew had dreamed a lot about days of flying freely, finally escaping the clutches of captivity and being kept as a test subject. This felt like those dreams, this felt too good to be true, even if he was still trapped. But it also felt so real.

…Because it was. Anton simply wanted to let Dew have fun for once.

“I’m going for a walk!” Anton called from below.

Dew stared at him, and then slowly made his way to the ground. He stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

“You can come with me, you know.”

Dew looked at Anton, then back at the cabin. “But–”

“The barrier isn't surrounding the house, it's around me. As long as you’re by me, you’ll be fine.”

Oh.

Dew walked up to him. “Same, uh, distance?” He asked.

Anton nodded. “Same distance.”

With that, Dew darted up into the trees, out of his captor’s sight. Anton walked the same trail they always had, but instead of walking, Dew was hopping from tree to tree, taking the high ground. It was oddly satisfying watching the scientist from above, like he was nothing but a bug that could be easily stomped on.

As Anton kept walking, Dew kept following from above, sometimes gliding in a circle above the scientist, like a crow surrounding a decaying carcass. Anton paid him no mind, just kept walking at a leisurely pace, letting Dew explore the woods around him.

Then Dew sat, perched on a tree branch, when a squirrel scurried up to him. He went ridgid, expecting it to run away. But it sat there with him on that tree branch, doing its own thing. Dew stared, confused, but content. He and the squirrel were both just… existing. At the same time, in the same space, doing the same thing, but in far different circumstances neither of them could try to comprehend from each other. And that was okay. Dew liked existing with this little squirrel.

Dew sat there for a while, forgetting that Anton was still walking. After a few minutes, Dew realized that he’d get shocked again if he didn’t keep following along Anton. But he didn’t want to leave his new friend. He’d never see them ever again after this.

“A-Anton,” Dew said quietly, not wanting to spook away the squirrel that had curled up against his leg. The scientist was far up ahead of him, down the trail, probably assuming Dew would be keeping up. There was no way for Anton to hear what Dew was saying. He sighed, and called out a little louder this time. “Anton!”

That got his attention. Anton turned, looking around in confusion on where Dew’s voice was coming from, until he spotted him very high up in a tree.

“What?” Anton asked.

Dew gestured to the squirrel. “I, I wanna sit here for a little bit. With, uh, with the squirrel.”

Anton stared. “You do that then!” He called.

“...Thanks!”

Dew sat up there for a long time, unable to tell if it was minutes or hours. But by the sun setting and turning the sky into bright hues of pink and orange, Dew realized that Anton had let him spend all day out there. He realized he didn’t remember the last time he watched the sunset with anyone. And now here he was, sitting on a tree branch looking over the forest, with his squirrel friend still by his side.

But he was getting hungry. Obviously, it must be around 6pm now. The days had been getting shorter as the weather got colder, but it wasn’t like that mattered in the lab.

Dew said goodbye to the squirrel once it became too dark to see it. He landed softly on the ground, and found Anton sitting in some grass under the tree.

Dew choked back a laugh. “What are those?” He asked.

“Night vision goggles?” Anton crossed his arms. “I don’t want to lose sight of you out here.”

“They look so stupid.” Dew snickered.

“Shut up,” Anton said.

The two of them walked back towards the cabin, and Dew realized how cold it had gotten outside. Obviously, it was already autumn. Dew shivered as he walked, socks getting wet from the dewy grass.

He walked inside without a fuss, wanting to warm up. As Anton kicked his shoes off, Dew took a look around his cabin, having never actually been inside this place much before.

And before Anton could escort him to the lab, Dew spoke up. “Where’s Sasha?”

“In their room.”

“Where’s that?”

Anton pointed to a door, “Over there.”

Dew nodded awkwardly and shuffled his way towards it.

“Woah, hey!” Anton stopped him from moving. “Why are you shivering?”

“...I’m cold?”

Anton rolled his eyes and stepped around the corner. He came back with a blanket and draped it around Dew’s shoulders. “You should’ve told me you were cold. I don’t want you getting sick again.”

“Oh. Okay. Can I go see Sasha?”

“I don’t see why not.”

The two of them spent the rest of their free day hanging out with Sasha in their enclosure. Anton had built a large enclosure, almost resembling a mini rainforest, inside one of the rooms in his cabin. It was a perfect habitat for his snake friend; their own little world to themselves. The scientist still gave Sasha free reign of the house, it was their home too, after all.

The three of them sat in a circle and talked for a bit. After a while, they sat in comfortable silence. It was peaceful, somehow. Dew felt safe.

. . .

It was getting late, and it was hard to believe that Dew had spent the entire day above the lab, without attempting any real escapes. It made Dew feel incredibly guilty, but he knew he had to wait it out. He had to gain Anton’s trust, and he had to wait for his plan.

Eventually, Anton took Dew back down the stairs. He said goodnight to Sasha, and walked down willingly. It was hard. Dew distracted himself by thinking of what’d it be like finally escaping this place, flying freely outside for real.

Soon, he thought. He’d get out of this place soon.

The lab was dark when they opened the door. As they were walking to Dew’s room, Anton spoke up.

“So, today was… fun. I suppose. I’m proud of you for not running.”

Dew’s heart sped up. “Um, y-yeah. Thanks.”

“I wouldn’t mind having one day of the week as a free day. As long as you keep behaving, I don’t see why not. I prefer to just always work on my experiments, but your needs need to be met as well, since you’ll be here forever. How does every Saturday sound?”

“G-good. Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Great.” Anton smiled. They arrived at Dew's room, and Anton opened the door for his test subject. Dew walked inside timidly, eyes downcast. He really was getting used to this routine.

“Goodnight, Dew.”

“...Night.” The lights flickered off and Anton was gone. Faint sounds of the scientist's footsteps could be heard walking through the lab and out the exit.

Dew sighed and laid down in bed. It was so quiet. Dew missed the sounds of the birds chirping, of leaves rustling in the wind. Dew missed existing in the same space with others in a way that felt safe. Dew missed flying outside. Holy shit, that was the best thing that had ever happened to him, despite falling to the ground and getting hurt.

It was surreal, the whole day. It would almost feel like a dream. His captor had not only agreed to give him one day a week free for him to do whatever he wanted, free from experimentation and pain, but allowed him to fly outside. Sure, there was now the threat of… being electrocuted every time Dew left the area around Anton’s cabin. That was bad. But it was progress. Flying outside was something Dew had always wanted to do since he got his wings, and he did it, just like that!

The only thing that would make it better was to fly freely. He’d get there, of course, once he escapes.

Speaking of escape, Dew sat up in bed when he heard the familiar rustle of the vents above his head, signifying Sasha was there. They were a better escape artist than he was, having already found a way down here from up there. Dew supposed that made sense; snakes were escape artists in nature.

“Hey!” Sasha said, opening the latch with their tail.

“Hi,” Dew said. He grabbed his new night-light and held it up to them. “Look what Anton got me. It’s a little ghost light.”

“That’s cool. What’s a ghost?”

“I guess you wouldn’t know, huh? Okay… Ghosts are spirits. Like, like the soul of a dead person, they don’t exist in the physical plane. Nobody can see or hear them, but they can haunt people. And they’re not real– obviously. I used to believe in ghosts and then… then my parents died. And uh, if ghosts were real, my parents would have probably found a way to contact me. But they’re gone. But that doesn’t matter!”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just hope I can get outta here before Halloween. This little ghost would be perfect for that.”

“You’ll get out in no time, Dew.”

“Yeah.” Dew turned the light on, surprising them both with the brightness of it. “And look! It’s really bright so it’ll be perfect for mapping things out up there. You might have a good sense of direction, but I don’t.”

“Good idea!”

“Let’s go, it’s kinda chilly in here.”

Dew and his escape artist friend hopped up into the vents, using his night-light to make a windy and swirly map that was somewhat beginning to make sense. Their goal was to find the quickest possible route to the surface and map out a real exit. The steps after that, well… Dew just hoped he could finally get out of this torment, mostly unscathed.

Not to mention, they now had to find a way to get that device away from Anton. Escaping the cabin is useless when Dew can’t even leave without being shocked.

But they were sure they could do it, if they kept working together. Exploring the vents had been fun with Sasha. Sometimes Dew would bring his blanket up there and they would use his night-light to tell stories. Dew was thankful to finally have someone he could trust here, to finally have a friend he could talk to.

And that filled him with more hope, knowing that he’d finally be out of here soon. He would finally talk to his friends again, and spend time with his pets. He would finally sleep in his own bed and wear his own clothes. He would do whatever he wanted. He would fly, truly free.

Dew was getting closer and closer to escape, and he couldn’t be more excited.

—

This is Dew’s ghost light btw

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