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grim-faux · 4 years ago

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03_Falling into Despair

First

Spoilers? Spoilers

The lightening crackled and boomed, an angry predator prowling across the sky courting the Signal Tower. Its blaze flashed through the train cart, bleaching out the seats within until the exposure faded. Rain hammered against the roof, droning out the hail of buzzing coursing through his bones.

He gave pause in the chase and stood between the connecting carts, turning his face up and studied the clouds – gray, black, tinges of purple and green. The rain pelted him, humming like the transmission and dissolving the remnants of hesitance.

Another wash of thunder with ensuing flare, threw his long shadow across the interior of the passage. He tipped his head; he could sense the smaller one, his younger self. Likely thought he was making the grand escape, or in the least evading him with masterful skills. Though, his anxiety was elevated, reaching for the static when he could, and dipping into the pools of transmission with much greater frequency. At this point, still unaware of that untapped power he would come into.

As all things did, their trials would come to a close. Soon, it would be time to rest. Soon.

The aisle was clear of wreckage and debris. At his behest, the door to the next cart wrenched open, and the small child snapped around to give him – what he would presume – was a horrified gawk. That same pang of terror sprang free within him, as he recalled decades and decades ago, when he too delivered that same expression to a very tall, Thin Man, in a very classy hat. Though, the other didn’t know any of this now, he supposed. The child was already scrambling away.

Stalling out time was tedious, and demanded reserves needed to cut the distance to the child. He used the trick to get across a gap, usually in lieu of teleporting. At some point, the child would turn on him – his window to break the cycle, shattered. But he only recalled how those events between he and his adversary went, and there was no way to determine if he would meet his end in the same form. If he could get close enough, he could draw the boy back – but the child was nimble and in the throes of survival. Frustrating! Flying ahead, with a purpose he didn’t understand. Because he never understood himself.

He reached out, drawing on waves and electrical currents, time slowed—

But the smaller one drew on reserves that were perplexing, gaining distance back by skidding across a toppled suitcase. A bent traffic sign offered cover, and for a moment the boy disappeared – in the next, his paper mask popped up. He charged amongst obstacles, leaping or zagging. To the end of the line.

He stepped over the clutter with ease, and tempered time once more. Noises and reverberations drowned out momentarily, as he closed in on three casual strides. In a moment, his grasp would falter and once again the child would take the advantage and pull away. Limitations forced him to pick and choose skills, until he could reach a long arm out and draw the child to him. He had to get closer, before he lost connection once more.

But the nefarious roll of the clock resumed course. He bristled silently, as the smaller one tipped forward and charged out into the pounding rain. He reached, far beyond draw distance. The child swung his head back, his flimsy coat whipped in the crass storm—

Then something terrifying happened. Surprising both the Thin Man and Mono. A blast of lightening arched through the sky – it must’ve hit something nearby – a dreadful, and painful silence followed. It came like a agonized wail, the boom was an eruption that tore through the metal hull of the train, rattling the wheels and dislodging luggage pinned to seats. What glass remained in the windows cracked or disintegrated entirely.

The Thin Man recoiled and shook, hot white filled his vision and obscured everything. That clash very nearly dissolving his static back into the airwaves. Maybe the bolt hit the train cart. He lurched forward, smacking into the edge of the doorway. His vision didn’t clear immediately, but it did restore to some normalcy. The sum he managed to view of Mono’s progress in this matter, was the small child skidding backwards.

And vanishing off the side of the cart platform.

The warm hand clasped tightly to his let go, and open air filled his palms. Nesting in the distance between he and the girl. Confused, stunned, he reached, questions swirling through his mind. The girl stood, watching. But Why? Her face set, framed by the hood of her jacket. No expression. He was falling. She only watched. Why would she? His heart hammered his chest, realization dawning. She let him go. She let him fall.

But WHY?

Another snap of thunder snarled through the air, and he’s no longer staring upward. It isn’t gloomy, he isn’t caught in that ugly place with the walls creeping, murmuring and churning. He’s pitched far over, rain drumming against the hat and his suit in a monotonous symphony. The only facet keeping him from careening downward, is his hand anchored to one pole of the train rail. His other hand had taken hold of something terribly soft and jittery. He pressed his thumb down, there was no resistance, no fight.

Somehow. Some… how, without meaning to, without trying to deviate the knotted pathways – on blind impulse of all things. He managed to capture the child.

Mono trembled fiercely, likely stunned and disconnected from his environment. The thunder boom and static riling through the air besieged his taxed senses, effectively shorting him out. The little chest heaved after all the relentless running. Through the waterlogged coat, the brittle ribcage pressed against his fingers, as he tightened his grip.

It would end. He wouldn’t wake up, anywhere, ever again. And they would disappear for good. Finally. At last. At long-long last. Their disastrous and endless journey would end. No more saving the girl, no more fantasies, grand adventure, or rescues. No more… questions. No more failure.

Rivers of water trailed off his knuckles. Mono’s breathing became raspy and shallow, as equally from the soaked bag covering his face, as it was from the Thin Man’s careful application. He couldn’t… break him. But he would let him sleep. That was kind enough. Both of them, they would go to sleep. It would be peaceful and quiet. No interference or bizarre interventions, never again. Now that he had this moment, he wouldn’t be careless and let go. This opportunity would never scurry away, and the child would not be forgotten in some dark, awful place. Alone.

He shut his eyes. One of the ribs strained against his pinky, and a pitiful whimper creaked out of the child. And the Thin Man lightened his hold.

What has always been, shall always be.

His future shadow never faltered. There was no failing to a mere child, even to himself. Mono didn’t wield some… greater power – at least, no greater than his elder-self. He was small, and child, and he couldn’t bear the thought of destroying him. Just as he couldn’t bear the sight, of watching him fall.

That realization was what the Signal Tower gambled on. It wasn’t in his nature. It was never in his nature. And the tower knew him, better than he knew himself. That despairing thought was what destroyed him, in the face of his younger.

The little Mono squirmed in his grip, pawing at the paper bag and tugging at his cufflinks. The Thin Man hauled back up onto the platform and—

The bar his arm held snapped, and he toppled. Falling. Through the rain. But at least he wasn’t dropped. It was undetermined if this was much better.

This is bad.

Before he could brace himself, his body smashed into a slanted roof and he tumbled. Cold rain misted as he slid across his back, on a perilous journey to who knows where. One elbow dug down, easing him around to face his course. Tempering time wouldn’t amend the problem, but it would better highlight a solution. Hopefully before the affect wore off. He clasped his other arm to his chest and leaned hard, holding his balance easier as he browsed the view beneath the glossy slope.

A sequence of windows lined the neighboring building, about a foot below his trajectory. Most of them boarded up, none of the ones left vacant would be in close enough range when pace resumed. It was a risky choice, but he elected the most inviting portal and thrust his arm against the slates and pushed. At the same time, everything sped up and amplified. In all this, he kept Mono locked to his chest. The boy was knotted up, though he didn’t have the space of thought for if it was in shock or fear.

The boards erupted from the window frame when the Thin Man hurtled through. A crumbly, run down couch was occupying the living area of the home, an artifact he spied through the boards before his unannounced entrance. It happened too fast, he hadn’t the chance to temper time so soon after, he could only brace for impact with the ratty piece of furniture. Regardless the effort, he made a graceless spiral and collided with the wall – knocking a large hole in the plaster and causing the whole room to shudder.

Static clawed at his senses as he slumped sideways, reminiscent of a spindly marionette. He dropped his arms, overwhelming relief swept through him.

It didn’t matter what he did, how the scheme played out. He was destined to fail. Some… other force, was at work. The Signal Tower, perhaps. He understood everything now, but soon, he would know nothing. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

He shut his eyes and dissolved into the static.

#little nightmares #little nightmares fanfiction #little nightmares fanfic #mono #the thin man #the thinman #fanfic #fanfiction

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adevotedappraisal · 5 years ago

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Magdalene by FKA Twigs, a review.

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I’ve been learning some shit from women from as long as I’ve been alive. Always some other shit that I never asked for but I got told it. I used to treat them things they said as laws as a child, but I never saw them in a book, so then I stopped believing them. They were always hushed laws though, laws told with squinted eyes and italicized whispers, laws told when no one else was around.

I mean, now of course men make the real laws that we know and live by. Well come on now, we write them on parchment, and display them on lights, we code them into computers, inscribe them on coins and stone. But these women…man women tell you some other shit, like glue shit, in low, muttered tones in the quiet part of the house. Like advice on… well not how the world works, but how to deal with the world when it works against you, and how to make it work for you. But you see, I’ve come to believe that the fairer sex tells you different laws than the vaunted laws and advice of our fathers because they all around see the world differently than men do. They may, in fact, have been harbouring different goals than us all along.

I mean for christssakes us men have our hero’s journey as clear as day, writ large and indelible across history books and entertainment. You could take that Joseph Campbell mono-myth theory and see it expressed in Arthurian swash-buckle, the middle earth ring-slaying of Tolkien, or in the recently concluded tri-trilogy of Star Wars galactic clashes. We’re in the empire business, as Breaking Bad’s Walter White infamously said. But still, the question always lingered to me: what is the heroine’s journey? Is it really just a lady in a knight’s armour? Or some tough-as-nails spy for some interloping government’s intelligence agency, delivering kidney kicks in a designer pencil skirt?

Well, I’ve come to believe that the heroine’s journey is navigating the waves of history we imperial and trans-national men make from our railroads and pipelines, our satellites and wars, them at once preserving a culture and sparking a path and creating a bond between cultures in order for them and their (il)legitimate brood to survive. That old chestnut about how behind every successful man is a woman always unnerved me by its easy adoption. I kept thinking ‘bout that woman. I kept thinking, what the fuck was she thinking?

You see women’s heroes, they ain’t as clear as day to me. They don’t kill the dragon, they don’t save the townspeople, they don’t shoot the Sherriff, or the deputy, or anyone most times. When I ask people in public at my job what super power they would like, most men go for strength, flight, and regenerative abilities (my pick). Most women went with mind reading and flight. In late night conversations though, with the moonlight coming through the white blinds and resting soft on us like so, I sometimes manage to hear that women’s heroes heal and clean the sick of the nation, in sneakers with heels as round as a childhood eraser; they feed a family with one fish and five slices of wonder bread; they would run gambling spots in the back of their house, putting the needle back on the Commodores record and patrolling the perimeter of the smoked-out room with a black .45 nested by their love handles; they climb up flag poles and speak out loud in public for the disposed and teach children those unwritten, floating laws while cloistered in the quiet part of the house.

Although their heroines are sometimes from the top strata of society –a Pharaoh here, an Eleanor Roosevelt there, an Oprah over there—they also name a healthy mix of radicals and weirdos with modest music success, people like Susan B. Anthony, Frida Kahlo, Virginia Woolf, or Nikki Giovanni, I mean did Nina Simone or Janis Joplin even crack the Billboard top ten? Yet there they are, up on the walls of a thousand college dorms across the country. So even though I couldn’t’ve foreseen it, it makes sense that of all the ultra-natural creatures, of all the great conquering kings and divining prophets of the Holy Bible, Mary Magdalene ends up the spirit animal for the album of the year for 2019.

Mary Magdalene was a follower of Jewish Rabbi Jesus during the first century, according to the four Gospels of the New Testament of the Bible, a figure who was present for his miracles, his crucifixion and was the first to witness him after his resurrection. From Pope Gregory I in the sixth century to Pope Paul VI in 1969, the Roman Catholic Church portrayed her as a prostitute, a sinful woman who had seven demons exorcised from her. Medieval legends of the thirteenth century describe her as a wealthy woman who went to France and performed miracles, while in the apocryphal text The Gospel of Mary, translated in the mid-twentieth century, she is Jesus’ most trusted disciple who teaches the other apostles of the savior’s private philosophies.

Due to this range of description from varying figures in society, she gets portrayed in differing ways, by all types of women, each finding a part of Magdalene to explain themselves through. Barbra Hershey, in the first half of Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) plays her as a firm and mysterious guide, a rebellious older cousin almost, while Yvonne Elliman, in Norman Jewison’s 1973 film adaptation of Lloyd Weber’s Jesus Christ Superstar is lovelorn and tender throughout, a proud witness of the Word being written for the first time. In “Mary Magdalene,” FKA Twigs, the Birmingham UK alt-soul singer, describes the woman as a “creature of desire”, and she talks about possessing a “sacred geometry,” and later on in the song she tells us of “a nurturing breath that could stroke you/ divine confidence, a woman’s war, unoccupied history.” Her vocals that sound glassy and spectral in the solemn echoes of the acapella first third, co-produced by Benny Blanco, turn sensual and emotive when the blocky groove kicks in. That groove comes into its own on the Nicolas Jaar produced back third, and when this all is adorned with plucked arpeggios it sounds like an autumnal sister to the wintry prowl of Bjork’s “Hidden Place” from her still excellent Vespertine (2001).

This blending of the affairs of the body and of Christian theology is found in the moody “Holy Terrain” as well. While it is too hermetic and subdued to have been an effective single, it still works really well as an album track. In this arena, Future is not the hopped up king of the club, but a vulnerable star, with shaded eyes and a heart wrapped up in love and chemicals, sending his girl to church with drug money to pay tithes. Over a domesticated trap beat he shows a vulnerable bond that can exist, wailing his sins and his devotion like a tipsy boyfriend does in the middle of a party, or perhaps like John the Baptist did, during one of his frenzied sermons, possessed and wailing “if you pray for me I know you play for keeps, calling my name, calling my name/ taking the feeling of promethazine away.”

Magdalene, the singer’s sophomore release, takes the mysterious power and resonance of this biblical anti-heroine, and involves its songs with her, these emotional, multi-textured songs about fame, pain and the break up with movie star boyfriend Robert Pattinson. With “Sad Day,” Twigs sings with a delicate yet emotional yearning, imbued with a Kate Bush domesticity. The synth pads are a pulsing murmur, and the vocal samples are chopped and rendered into lonely, twisting figures. The drums crash in only every once in a while, just enough to reset the tension and carve out an electronic groove, while the rest of the thing is an exercise in mood and restraint, the production by twigs, Jaar and Blanco, along with Cashmere Cat and Skrillex, leaves her laments cosseted in a floating sound, distant yet dense and tumultuous, the way approaching storm clouds can feel. Meanwhile “Thousand Eyes” is a choir of Twigs, some voices cluttered and glittering, some others echoed and filled with dolour. “If you walk away it starts a thousand eyes,” she sings, the line starting off as pleading advice and by the close of the song ending up a warning in reverb, the vintage synths and updated DAWs used to create these sparse, aural haunts where the choral of shes and the digital ghosts of memory can echo around her whispered confessional.

In many of these divorce albums, the other party’s role in the conflict is laid bare in scathing terms: the wife that “didn’t have to use the son of mine, to keep me in line” from Marvin Gaye’s Here My Dear from 1979; the players who “only love you when they’re playin’” as Stevie Nicks sang on Fleetwood Macs Rumours (1977); or as Beyonce’s Lemonade (2017) charges, the husband that needs “to call Becky with the good hair.” At first though, Twigs is diplomatic, like in “Home with me,” where she lays the conflict on both sides here, expressing the rigours of fame, the miscommunication –accidental or intentional –that fracture relationships, and the violent, tenuous silence of a house where one of the members is in some another country doing god knows what, physically or mentally. “I didn’t know you were lonely, if you’d just told me I’d be home with you,” she sings in the chorus over a lonely piano, while the verse sections have the piano chords flanked by blocks of glitch, and littered with flitched-off synths. Then, the last chorus swirls the words again, along with the strings and horns and everything into a rising crescendo of regret.

Later in the album however, her anger once smoldering is set alight, in the dramatic highlight “Fallen Alien.” Twigs sings with an increasing tension, as her agile voice morphs from confused, pouting girlfriend to towering lady of the manor, launching imprecations towards a past lover and perhaps fame itself. “I was waiting for you, on the outside, don’t tell me what you want ‘cuz I know you lie,” she sings, and, after the tension ratchets up becomes “when the lights are on, I know you, see you’re grey from all the lies you tell,” and then later on we have her sneering out loud “now hold me close, so tender, when you fall asleep I’ll kick you down.” All while pondering pianos drop like rain from an awning, tick-tocking mini-snares and skittering noises flit across the beat like summer insects, the kicks of which are like an insistent, inquisitive knocking at the door, and then there’s that sample, filtered into an incandescent flame, crackling an I FEEL THE LIGHTNING BLAST! all over the song like the arc of a Tesla coil. The song is a shocking rebuke, and it becomes apparent upon replays that the songs are sequenced to lead up to and away from it, the gravitational weight giving a shape and pace to the whole album. Because of this, the other songs on Magdalene have more tempered, subtle electronic hues and tones, as if the seductive future soul of 2013s “Water Me” from EP2, and the inventive, booming experimentation of “Glass & Patron” from 2015s M3LL1SSX, were pursed back and restrained until it was needed most, and this results in an album more accomplished, nuanced and focused than her impressive but inconsistent debut LP1 (reviewed here).

This technique of electronic restraint has shown up in the most recent albums by experimental pioneers, with the sparse, mournful tension of Radiohead’s A Moon Shaped Pool (2017), it’s cold, analog synths and digital embellishments cresting on the periphery of the song, and with Wilco’s Ode to Joy from last year, an album bereft of their lauded static and electric scrawl, mostly embossed in acoustic solitude and brittle, wintery guitar licks. Twigs and her co-producers take the same knack for the most part throughout the album, like with closer “Cellophane,” where the dramatic voice and piano are in the forefront, while effects crunch lightly in the background like static electricity in a stretched sweater, and elsewhere, as the synths of “Daybed” slowly intensify into a sparkling soundscape, as if manufacturing an awakening sunrise through a bedroom window. And it is this seamless melding of organic and electronic instruments, to express these wretched and fleeting emotions of heartbreak that makes this the album of the year.

It makes sense that an artist like FKA Twigs would be drawn to a figure like Mary Magdalene. Of the many Marys in the New Testament, she stuck out as palpably different, or rather, she depicted a differing part of womanhood than the other two. She wasn’t the chaste, life-giving mother of Jesus, or the dutiful Mary of Clopas. Instead, Magdalene was this mixture of sexuality and spirituality, one of those figures that managed to know men and women in equal measure, wrapped up with the blood as well as the flesh. Twigs also played with this enrapturing sexuality in her work, writhing around in bed begging some papi to pacify her and fuck her while she stared at the sun, then making you identify with the lamentations of video girls, and then telling you in two weeks you won’t even recognize who you were seeing before. There was something mysterious and layered to her millennial art-chick sexpot act though, layers that have begun to be revealed with this album.

We realise now, that what she was depicting all along was more like the sexual heat that lays underneath devotion, as opposed to fleeting, mayfly lust, and that she now understands the weight and half-life of love. That is, that beyond the sex and patron and fame there is a near sacred love we build between each other for a while in time, lasting as long as both hands can bear to hold it, and also that the death of a relationship still has the memory of the love created warm within it that then radiates off slow into the air. A love that then falls into our minds for safekeeping dark and unobstructed now, the way Jesus’ blood fell from his wound into Joseph of Arimathea’s grail held aloft.

“I never met a hero like me in a sci-fi,” FKA Twigs sings, an evocative line less so for the hegemonic patriarchy of the worldwide movie and comic book industry suggested by ‘the sci-fi’ here, and more for the ‘hero like me’ part, which suggests she had to make her hero origin story all up, without the scaffolding of centuries of relatable mythologies, presenting us with an avatar of millennial love, in all of its tortured luster. And you hear this type of love in her voice, no longer changed up and ran through a filter for Future Soul sophistication most times, but out in the open now, to express particular emotions, whether it’s in that swooping, falling ‘I’ in the heart-break closer “Cellophane,” or her assured realisation, later on “Home With Me” where she says “But I’d save a life if I thought it belonged to you/ Mary Magdalene would never let her loved ones down.”

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It’s never about how to conquer with these women you see. In the end of all relationships it’s how they find their way out after us temporarily embarrassed conquerors are about to leave, jacket slung over shoulder, standing by the door. You squint your eyes back at her this time, and you listen this time, while she tells you, or tells the ground in front of you, what parts of love to let go of, and what parts are worth holding on to in this age of Satan, the parts that will help you become yourself. “I wonder if you think that I could never help you fly,” the song tells you then, one of those stinging admissions that only women come up with, and you wisely stay silent, and then the piano chords part, the synths subside. And for a while there as she looks at you, as the breathy sortilege in the song keeps going, it all sounds like something worth believing in again. And then, the words she says to you start to come across like laws.

#music #music review #rnb #rnb music #r&b #soul #future soul #future pop #alt soul #electronica #fka twigs #magdalene #mary magdalene #cellophane #Long Reads #sad day #hiro murai #new music

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themirthfulroadrunners · 5 years ago

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So Many, It’s a Bullet List

This trip results in a veritable bullet list of check-offs – both bucket list items and general check-off items on a ‘to do’ list. You know, those things that are must-do’s before you die, as well as those that fail to make that list, but shouldn’t be passed up if in the vicinity - like the world’s largest iron skillet, or the gravesite of Herman Munster, that kind of thing.

We started with Arizona’s Meteor Crater. It measures 55’ deep and a mile across. It is impressive. Anyone there 50,000 years ago would have remembered the event well. We didn’t have time to adequately enjoy the Grand Canyon, so that bucket list item has to wait. It’s too big to have given it a check-off list cursory viewing. So our next stop was Las Vegas. Viva-I-don’t-care. We’d both been there before but it had changed in the intervening 30-40 years. It can change back to desert as far as we care.

Death Valley is a sight (several, actually) to behold. The temp was in the moderate 90’s yet very do-able. Within a couple hours we were at America’s lowest elevation (-282’) and saw the lower 48’s highest – Mt. Whitney. We got a picture of a cool abandoned church at a tiny rundown town where America interred 10,000 of her citizens of Japanese descent during WWII.

Wayne’s sister, Marla, met us at a cool little town on the east side of the Sierras – Lee Vining. From there we saw the Mono Lake tufas and learned a great story about how a very small community fought and beat the water-stealing megalopolis of L.A. That was also the launch for the best ghost town anywhere – Bodie, CA. Look it up. It’s fantastic. As were the giant Sequoias a short distance from Marla’s Sierra Mountain home.

October in San Francisco is definitely the time to go. We toured Alcatraz, walked the Golden Date, drove Lombard Street, visited Haight/Ashbury (a location of infamy for our generation), saw Chinatown, snapped a pic of the house from Full House, visited Fisherman’s Wharf and ate the world’s best sourdough bread while on a bakery tour. All this, as well as a few other check-offs while in town.

The 17-mile drive through Pebble Beach was a check-off that, after seeing it, might ought to have been on the big list merely for the Pacific surf views. And just down the road are San Jose and Santa Cruz where Wayne shared amazing sights and a little historical tour of his own – even the locations of 3 motorcycle wrecks. Oh, and Debbie got stuck in Lodi again.

For Debbie, we ventured to Monterey fairgrounds, site of the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival and the inspiration for her short story, Monterey Papa. And who could pass up an opportunity to see Carmel-by-the-Sea, where Clint Eastwood wooed a majority of voters? We had lunch beneath a portrait of him in full western movie costume.

We toured a winery in Napa Valley and the Jelly Belly factory in Fairfield. A Saturday morning visit to a farmers’ market in Modesto provided a chance to help judge a chili cookoff.

A major highlight was Yosemite National Park and the black bear that Marla saw first. He (or she) was mostly bashful but very accommodating, allowing a nice video. El Capitan, Half Dome, a hike and a couple waterfalls did not disappoint. The climbers waaaaaay up high on the face of El Capitan added a little excitement. Trying to one-up her companions who reportedly had better vision, Debbie claimed she saw that one of the climbers had cavities. We all swallowed several grains of salt at that one. That Debbie!

Not to be deprived, we saw deer, buffalo, and over a hundred antelopes at play. We drove past miles and miles of orchards and vineyards, wondering what were the actual crops, wishing for helpful signs.

Our return home took us to beautiful Lake Tahoe and the Mormon Tabernacle where we both saw and heard the pipe organ. As impressive to me was an actual cowboy, a long way from a visible ranch, sitting his horse while overlooking a herd of cattle. It could’ve been a scene in a western movie. And not far from there we witnessed a man swinging by a cable from a helicopter (in very strong winds, mind you) to be placed atop a metal power pole tower, the kind that looks like the Eifel Tower’s poor cousin.

Old town Laramie and Cheyenne, as well as Ogallala (remember Clara and Ellie of Lonesome Dove?) were cool. But alas, there was no social club in sight in the very western downtown.

The lonnnnnnnnnnng drive to and from California included 13 states, and mostly their desert-y or plateau-y areas. It was really nice, after 3 weeks, to drop down into NW Arkansas and let our eyes settle on the lovely green hillsides again.

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chainslaughter · 5 years ago

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here @doodledumpster list of series based on video games

See also:

List of anime based on video games

Air (2005)

Angry Birds Toons (2013–2016)

Arc the Lad (1999)

Bible Black (2003–2008)

Blue Dragon (2007–2009)

Bomberman B-Daman Bakugaiden (1998–1999)

Bomberman Jetters (2002–2003)

Canvas 2 (2005–2006)

Captain N: The Game Master (1989–1991)

Carmen Sandiego (2019–present)

Castlevania (2017–present)

Chaos;Head (2008)

Clannad (2007–2008)

Comic Party/Comic Party Revolution (2001, 2005)

Costume Quest (2019–present)

Cuphead (in production)

Darkstalkers (1995)

D.C. ~Da Capo~ (2003–2005)

Devil May Cry (2007)

Digimon (1997–2016)

Dinosaur King (2007–2008)

Donkey Kong Country (1997–2000)

Double Dragon (1993–1994)

Dragon's Lair (1984)

Dragon Quest (1989–1991)

Dragon Quest: The Adventure of Dai (1991–1992)

Earthworm Jim (1995–1996)

Ef: A Tale of Memories. (2007)

Fatal Fury: Legend of the Hungry Wolf (1992)

Fate/stay night (2006)

Final Fantasy: Legend of the Crystals (1994) - A sequel to Final Fantasy V

Final Fantasy: Unlimited (2001–2002)

F-Zero: GP Legend (2003–2004)

Gakuen Heaven (2006)

Galaxy Angel (2001–2004)

Gungrave (2003–2004)

Harukanaru Toki no Naka de Hachiyō Shō (2004–2005)

Higurashi No Naku Koro Ni (2006–2007)

Inazuma Eleven (2008–2011)

Kanon (2002, 2006–2007)

Kimi ga Nozomu Eien (2003–2004)

The King of Fighters: Another Day (2005–2006)

Kiniro no Corda (2006–2014)

Kirby: Right Back at Ya! (2001–2003)

Koisuru Tenshi Angelique (2006–2008)

Layton's Mystery Journey (2018–2019)

The Legend of Zelda (1989)

Little Nightmares (in production)

Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha series - Based on Triangle Hearts 3 Lyrical Toybox (2004–2016)

Medabots (1999–2001)

Meet the Team (2007–2012) (Web series)

Mega Man

Monster Rancher (1999–2001)

Mortal Kombat: Defenders of the Realm (1996)

Mutant League (1994–1996)

Nightwalker: The Midnight Detective (1998)

Parappa the Rapper (2001–2002)

Pac-Man (1982–1983)

Pac-Man and the Ghostly Adventures (2013–2015)

Persona

Piggy Tales (2014–2019)

Pokémon (1997–present)

Pole Position (1984)

Rayman: The Animated Series (1999–2000)

Rabbids Invasion (2013–present)

Sakura Wars (2000)

Saturday Supercade (1983–1984)

School Days (2007–2008)

Sentimental Journey (1998) - Based on Sentimental Graffiti

Shuffle! (2005–2007)

Sister Princess (2001)

Skylanders Academy (2016–2018)

Sonic the Hedgehog

Star Ocean EX (2001) - Based on Star Ocean: The Second Story

Street Fighter (1995–1997)

Street Fighter II V (1995)

Suki na Mono wa Suki Dakara Shouganai (2005)

Super Mario

Taiko no Tatsujin (2005)

Tak and the Power of Juju (2007–2009) - Game and television series were developed in tandem.

Tales

ToHeart (1999)

Tokimeki Memorial Only Love (2006–2007)

Tokyo Majin (2007)

The Tower of Druaga (2008–2009)

Tsukihime, Lunar Legend (2003)

Utawarerumono (2006)

Viewtiful Joe (2004–2005)

Virtua Fighter (1995–1996)

Viva Piñata (2006–2009)

Wakfu (2008–2017)

Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego? (1994–1999)

Wild Arms (1999–2000)

Wind -a breath of heart- (2004)

Wing Commander Academy (1996)

Xenosaga: The Animation (2005)

Yo-Kai Watch (2014–present)

Ys (1992–1993)

Yumeria (2004)

Z.O.E. Dolores,i (2001) - Set within the Zone of the Enders universe

Steins;Gate (2011)

Clannad After Story (2008–2009)

Fatal Fury 2: The New Battle (1993)

Mega Man (1994)

Mega Man NT Warrior (2002–2006)

Mega Man Star Force (2006–2008)

Mega Man: Fully Charged (2018–present)

Persona: Trinity Soul (2008) - A spin-off of Persona 3

Persona 4: The Animation (2011–2012) & Persona 4: The Golden Animation (2014)

Persona 5: The Animation (2018–2019)

Pokémon Chronicles (2002–2004)

Sister Princess ~ RePure (2002)

Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog (1993–1996)

Sonic Boom (2014–2017)

Sonic Mania Adventures (2018)

Sonic the Hedgehog (1993–1994)

Sonic Underground (1999)

Sonic X (2003–2005)

The Super Mario Bros. Super Show (1989)

The Adventures of Super Mario Bros. 3 (1990)

Super Mario World (1991)

Tales of Eternia: The Animation (2001)

Tales of the Abyss: The Animation (2008–2009)

ToHeart Remember my Memories (2004)

To Heart 2 (2005)

Utawarerumono: The False Faces (2006–2009)

There have also been several one-off video game-based cartoons, including specials such as Bubsy (1993), Battletoads (1992) and Pokémon Mystery Dungeon (2006–2009).

Defiance (2013–2015)

Dragon Age: Redemption (2011)

Fallout: Nuka Break (2011–2013)

Maniac Mansion (1990–1993)

Mortal Kombat: Konquest (1998–1999)

Mortal Kombat: Legacy (2011–2013)

Halo 4: Forward Unto Dawn (2012)

Street Fighter: Assassin's Fist (2014)

Street Fighter: Resurrection (2016)

The Super Mario Bros. Super Show! (1989)

Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego? (1991–1995)

Where in Time is Carmen Sandiego? (1996–1997)

You Don’t Know Jack (2001)

Aaron Stone (2009–2010) - A boy turns into his favorite online superhero

Accel World (2012) - A series about a boy who plays VR video games to escape bullies in school and discovers a secret program that is able to accelerate the human cognitive process to the point at which time appears to stop.

Ace Lightning (2002) - Children's television series centered on a teenage boy's life after his video game characters come to life.

Arcadia (TV series) (2008–present) - Guatemalan TV series about video games

Arcade Gamer Fubuki (2002–2003)

Breadwinners (2014–2016)– The Breadwinners "level up" like video game characters.

Captain N: The Game Master (1989–1991) - Revolves around a kid who travels across various NES video games.

Code Monkeys (2007–2008) - About the lives of video game programmers and animated to resemble and parody the tropes of 1980s 8 and 16 bit video games.

Da Boom Crew (2004)

Deadly Games (1995) - plot centered on video game villains that have escaped into reality.

Future Man (2017–present)

Game Center Arashi (1982)

GameCenter CX (2003–present)

Game Grumps (2012-present) (Web Series)

Game Over (2004) - TV series about the lives of video game characters after the game was over. Aired on UPN originally.

Game Shakers (2015–2019)

Gamer's Guide to Pretty Much Everything (2015–2017)

GamesMaster (1992-1998)

The Guild (2007–2013)

.hack

Harsh Realm (1999) - Hobbes who is a soldier about to retire, is put into a virtual reality where the only way to get out alive and get back to his wife and the love of his life, is to kill a guy called Santiago. Santiago is another soldier who is in the game and has taken it over.

High Score Girl (2018–present)

The Hollow (2018)

Just One Smile Is Very Alluring (2016)

Kamen Rider Ex-Aid (2016-2017) - The 18th installment of the Heisei era Kamen Rider series. This show utilizes game cartridges called Rider Gashats and the rider's motifs inspired by retro video games.

King Koopa’s Kool Kartoons (1989–1990) - not actually based on a game, just a framing device for cartoons and toy giveaways.

Kiss Me First (2018–present)

Level Up (2012–2013)

Log Horizon (2013–2015) - The series follows the strategist, Shiroe, and the other players of the long-lived MMORPG Elder Tales after they find themselves whisked away into the game world following a game update.

Nick Arcade (1992)

The Ones Within (2019–present)

Overlord (2015–2018)- Japanese anime series about a VRMMO that is in the process of getting shut down but becomes real.

Parker Plays (2017–present) - A Disney XD show featuring Youtube personality Parker Coppins, aka ParkerGames, playing video games, the series also features other Youtubers such as CaptainSparklez, Strawburry17, Shubble, and Steve Zaragoza, as well as Jimmy Wong and Whitney Moore.

The Power Team (1990–1992) Featured various Acclaim Entertainment video game characters.

ReBoot (1994–2001) - The characters commonly assume the roles of enemy NPCs in "Game Cubes".

Starcade (1982–1984) - Arcade game-based game show hosted by Geoff Edwards (with early episodes being hosted by Mark Richards)

Sword Art Online (2012–present) - A series where players get trapped in a VRMMORPG (Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Game) named Sword Art Online.

The Tribe (1999–2003)- Series four focuses on tribes addicted to a virtual-reality game.

Tron: Uprising (2012–2013)

Video Power (1990–1992)

Video Game High School (2006–2009)

Video & Arcade Top 10 (1992–2008)

Virtual Insanity Advance (2012) - Sketch-comedy series centered on video games where people simulate popular and ancient corresponding video-games while interacting with real people and features short animated segments of cartoons based on popular video games.

Game Grumps Animated

Game Grumps Vs

Guest Grumps

Steam Train

.hack//Sign (2002)

.hack//Legend of the Twilight (2003)

ReBoot: The Guardian Code (2018–present)

#long post #very long post #just from wikipedia page

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jenniferportman · 2 years ago

Photo

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supperfashion786 · 4 years ago

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Georgia Red Snapper - The Best of All Bottom Fishing

I've been Charter Fishing for many, lots years. As a Georgia Charter Fishing Guide running over 15 trips each season to Georgia's 40 Mile live beds (AKA Brunswick Snapper Banks) over the past 15 years, proves this 2009 spring season far better than era past for big (Mule) Red Snapper.

After an hour of the 4-stroke outboards humming on our 31 Contender, we approached the R-5 Navy Tower 34 miles off the beaches of St. Simons Island in coastal Georgia. We stopped in pretty close for a decoys sketch around the palace legs. Thousands of peanut cigar minnows surrounded the north castles legs allowing an easy bait-up for our crew, so we picked up 50 or so and pressed eastward toward the Snapper Banks.

Anyone who reads my articles knows I am a bottom fisherman of lots targets. After all the great bottom I have fished, this day would be different. Markings on the shouting space like I have never seen. The bottom literally "Blew up as we idled up to our aim and zeroed out. The entire personnel stared in astonishment at the color scope like we were possessed. A hidden snapshot shot would have been priceless as all of ourselves stood stared at the bottom machine with our mouths hanging open in dead silence. Finally, I broke the trance. "Man, this is gonna' be ugly!"

This target was on a 10-ft. ledge at the Brunswick Snapper Banks and for some wisdom this ledge always tends to hold more fish than any other in the domain and it's no mystery number. It's on any chart you plectrum up from the Georgia DNR. This intense marking rose 45 ft. off the bottom. It was textbook. The "fire motor red" marking stacked up high off the live bottom like this at a cheater angle into the current. Something any bottom fisherman seeks on any given fishery day.

After a scurrying rampage to get the rigs snapped on, we re-approached and positioned perfectly on summit of the marking in 117 ft., the first drop to the beds didn't quite type it. At about 100 ft., the Ugly Stik 30-60 Rod dumped over the gunwale and pinned our client to the stern of the Contender. "Fish On!" was about all he could manage to grunt as we all screamed for him to reel, reel, reel! Hold your rod up high! The seemingly long, but brutal fight produced a 30-inch Red Snapper for our first fellow of the day. What a beauty...

As I photographed the fellow and angler, another scream and shoes shuffling told me another Snapper had again pinned someone to the period of the boat. This round was won by an angler who boated a Gag Grouper approx 17 pounds after a furious wrestle on a lighter Rod that we had originally rigged for Vermilion Snapper. I don't know how the 3/0 light string hook didn't bend or intermission under the importance of the abyss water Grouper, but she held and the angler landed the fish.

I fish with my reels locked down almost as tight as the impediment will go. When you hook up with a big bottom fish, you don't lack any line to furlough your reel. Lock those impediment down tight, accordance your pole up high and hold on! It's you and him head to head, no drag.

After that Grouper, we decided we had better innovations out all the shaft rigged for Vermilion Snapper as the leader was 60 pound and the hooks were 3/0 medium. I didn't demand to income the openings of losing a large Mule or a giant Gag, so we rigged up with 100 pound mono guidance and larger hooks.

"A barrier of Georgia Red Snapper"

We had a legal barrier of Mule Red Snapper in shot lineup and I could tell my boy's finally had enough. We were releasing 30 inch fish by that point. Our team begged for those big Mule Snapper to quit biting! After a total of 18, the current changed and the Vermilion Snapper bite turned on. The crew were relieved as their punishment aptitude only half of what they had been with the Mules.

A limit of Vermilion Snapper was obviously not departing to be problem, but as each three pound "bee-liner" hit the deck, it got quieter, until finally my crew had enough of trapping fish that day. There is a brains of contentment when everyone agrees their firearms and back simply can't role properly enough to pin another fish! I don't see this as a problem. I see it as mission accomplished.....

You don't need any "special" numbers to stylus fish on Georgia's 40 - Mile Bottom. Go by the DNR office in Brunswick Georgia and choice up the public chart, or plectrum up the phone and give them a call. There are much of good numbers marking ledges and outcrops that are bringing plenty of large Red Snapper and Vermilion Snapper. This season has simply been a "stellar" year for bottom fishery and this rings true for Savannah Georgia and many other role on the East Coast according to reports from other Georgia Fishing Guides and Fishing Charter boats.

If you haven't been bottom fishery and you would like to learn, there are a few belongings you'll poverty to know about. First of all, the fellow obligation to be of legal size. Depending on what State you are in, it's usually 20 inches. Be sure and sketch your bag limit, too. In Georgia, it's (2) Red Snapper per Angler. Florida rules are different and seasons apply in certain area's as well.

The process of releasing center water beds fellow is critical. When releasing an undersized fellow or over the barricade fish, you must deflate the air bladder of the fellow to allow him a safe revenue to the bottom. Otherwise, he'll normally float on the surface and eventually die. There are small supplies referred to as "de-flators" or "vent tools". Learn where and how to vent beds fish properly for release. There are lots articles all across the internet about venting subroutine for beds fish.

"The Arsenal"

When you're pitching to big middle water fish, you poverty a big blades to crate with. There is no better bottom fishery pole than an Ugly Stik in my book. Here is my rig for Mules.

- Ugly Stik 30-60 or 40-80 Rod - Penn 4/0 High Speed Senator Reel loaded with 80 pound braided line. - 9/0 Redfishone Brand Circle Hook - 6 ft. of 100 pound Monofilament leader - 12 oz. Bank Lead - 90 Pound Snap Swivel

You can utility the same rod and reel for Vermilion Snapper but you resolve change your terminal tackle a bit. Use 60 pound mono leader and (2) 5/0 cwm hooks. Some anglers utility one hook rigs, me included, but if they're biting well and you're not on the entrance of being worn out, utility 2 hooks to crops numbers of fish.

If the fellow are finicky, we'll rig with a single 3/0 heterosexual hook so I tins actually batteries the hook instead of depending on the circle hook to do the situation for me. When it comes to hooks and their styles and sizing for each fish, it's personal fondness once you have learned the game, so choose your poison.

Your best bet for bait is live Spanish sardines, but lots anglers do not have the luxury of grasping 50 sardines before a trip. Frozen Sardines, Boston Mackerel and whole squid can all be purchased the day before your trip. Also, lots anglers use bucktail jigs and other lures to entice Snapper and Grouper to the hook.

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grim-faux · 3 years ago

Text

2 _ 32 _ Dangerous Activities

First

No matter how many of the miles and miles of the city they crossed through, it didn’t seem as if they saw any of it. Though getting around in some areas was much more difficult than others, the roads and building nearest to the Signal Tower suffered the heaviest damage. Though further from the Tower held dangers of different varieties, not limited to the destruction of the city and those perils. The speek scrawled on walls and floors, any surface that held the disembodied voices of travelers, carried the vibrations of warning. This place held dangers, shelters was an illusion, They will find you.

As always, the Thin Man didn’t heed much Mono’s concerns. Adults just didn’t fear anything. Not until they were dead or worse, caught.

This place seemed safe enough for temporary stop, small and poorly placed t was. The building, or room he should say, wasn’t good enough by the man in the hat standards. Mono wouldn’t disagree, but at least they couldn't get lost and the walls hadn't caved in. The place was a small room on the upper floor of building, with an entry that led directly to the outside. The place was fitted with only a much smaller room, and the bathroom. Some busted out furniture stuff too, like the bed and broken table. Nothing more, no other hide places, which Mono did NOT like.

One window offered a view of the road and sights outside. Mono sat beside the filthy glass, on watch. He was having a hard time staying focused. It helped that it was brighter outside, but not by much. Little activities kept his eyes open, but his thoughts were badly muddled. He was so tempted to lay his head down – not on the sill here – on the floor, or somewhere within the broken out dresser/television stand beside the furthest wall.

Doing some laps around the room and extending his investigation did help. They tiny room offered nothing, not even a chair. He poked into the bathroom, but that had even less - no cabinets, not even a vent to crawl through. He hated this place. The faucet was at least easy enough to turn on and shut off; he got a sip of water and splashed his chilled face with frigid liquid - despite barely drying out at all. All of this helped, since for the while he was going nowhere.

The Thin Man was having a rest. It’d been a while, a good indication how badly the tall thin man needed to stop and do nothing. Do sleep. As well, Mono managed to gather a bit of sleep for himself, before he awoke and realized no one was watch. The man in the hat kept say he wasn't bothered and okay, but Mono decided the Factory took a lot out of him. The Thin Man should probably eat something and do more rest, but the topic always put the Thin Man in a grumpy mood. It was okay, Mono knew better. He kept some attention to the Thin Man - though he couldn't do much to convince the Thin Man of anything - he still kept watch. Like now.

A big stretch helped. It perked Mono up for a bit, and felt good. He caught the Thin Man doing a stretch the other day, it looked so funny. Like a spider pole. He gave the Thin Man a smile, but the Thin Man didn’t seem impressed. Could possibly not like Mono see him do typical, awkward things. Like eat. Sharing food was important. He gave Mono food, but didn’t he take some for himself? The Thin Man mystified him. Everything with the Thin Man was complicated and unknown.

Except for the sleep. Always lied. Said would watch, then Mono wakes up and he’s done the opposite. Gone usually. Off to the danger places. Oh well. Mono was okay on half sleep. It would be fine. The man in the hat didn’t like it when he mentioned watch.

Outside the windowpane, a Viewer meandered by. On some weird impulse, Mono waved at it. They were less frightening with something between him and them, and him having no reason to creep in close to their proximity. It was out on errand seeking a television signal, or a quiet box it could turn on. The television in this room was busted through.

The Thin Man sometimes tried to show him how to traverse the transmission, without blowing up the television. It always felt hit or miss. Be calm. Don’t panic. No rush. Boom. He was a bad student, but it was such a trick. The Thin Man conducted the currents like sweeping his hands through a shallow puddle, creating ripples in the stream of electrical threads churning behind the glass barrier. The tall thin man said he was too excited, but Mono couldn't help it. Getting away from the shared shelter and exploring was an adventure, they would reach somewhere eventually. But for the while they roamed across the city, it was together. More important, staying in one place for too long would never not, and always make Mono nervous. Being left and alone, keeping safe - Mono had many jobs, it was hard. Chasing after the Thin Man was less hard.

It wasn’t often that he rifled through the topic, of why he and the man in the hat had so much same. Felt... Familiar. Had speek – his speek, moved through televisions, and now he knew what his eyes looked like. How different they were from... Her. And the other children, his pack. Was that why he was hated so? That didn't make sense. Who cared what his eyes looked like? What difference did it make? But apparently, it was important for some reason. And it made him a danger.

He didn't feel like a danger. For some reason, however, it made others not want to be near him. Except for the Thin Man. Still, he didn’t understand how he 'summoned' the Thin Man by opening a door, but it must’ve had something to do with the televisions. The transmission. Tuning it in a very specific way, rather trust blind luck. And the door! It was the same as the Signal Tower. Where the Thin Man was to take him. Said it was his... job.

She knew, too. Without being there, and seeing what he did. Saw him. Tried to drag her from the screen but failed. Messed up.

Mono rubbed a space on the glass clean and began doing speek. He fogged the pane and made a curve, then a line.

Danger. Knew he and the Thin Man were too same. She didn’t understand. He wondered, did She miss him? Or at least, feel bad for not keep? The look on her face when he fell. She didn’t look sad. Maybe he didn’t see right. Could be she saw the Thin Man, and that scared her. That was a stupid thought, she was staring at him.

He shook his head, and continued doing the speek. He did the Eye. There was a small Six. A cage, as well. He fogged the glass, and did a door, then a television with antenna. As well, a roof edge with people lined up. A tall tree, and a little twig sticking from the mound beneath. Another building, looming above all the others, with a bulb at its zenith. He scrubbed away the speek and once more, did some lines. A chair, and an ugly fish with nub arms.

He wondered, as he scrawled the things he saw, was the Thin Man still friends with the Tower? It let them in and didn't bother them, despite his new found certainty that it could have. That time remained cloudy in his thoughts, closer to a dream. He remembered Her, the sing box. He killed it. Made her so mad. After that, it's harder to recall. Following her was his forefront focus, escape. The panic. He messed up, it would take them. Run. The flee. It would eat them.

Scrambling through the collapsing corridor, he could scarcely catch the tinges of color against the crowding patches of grotesque mass. Hurt. He was still hurt. It could wait, he willed his legs to slam against the broken path and keep his pace balanced. The floor ruptured beneath his toes, freshly cleaved bits of rock tore at his feet. Onward he fought, heaving on the silt as his lungs demanded - You MUST STOP. There was no place for stall or recover, no moment to squander as the chattering cracks peered at him with glossy, bulbous glands. Jeered. Laughed. Like the sing box sneered at him.

Mine. Mine. MineMineMineMineMine. Keep.

Faster. FASTER! The entire world came undone, spilling out wriggling folds of flesh and gurgling eyes. The loathsome things flashed and blinked, as he swooped by within inches of the rolling avalanche. They would make it. Don't stop, don't stumble. In the gloom far ahead, something glittered that was not teeth nor rolling viscera. His bones shrieked celebration, that familiar prickle of electric surge pulsed against his mind. Out! Escape! Screen! It gave him that last miniscule swell, coaxing him onward despite how his body ached to fail and be done.

At his back, a sudden sound nearly launched him through the window. He whipped around and ducked, muscles tense. No walls. No eyes rolling. No dark unknowns....

It’s only the Thin Man. At the far side of the room, the lank figure shifted on the short sofa seat he propped up in. Mono thought adults used beds, but the Thin Man seemed to prefer sitting. He tipped his head, hat slanting. Electric and distortions hummed pricked at the air of the cool, tiny room, giving him a creaking hurt. This made him mildly wary. He paced back and forth on the windowsill, eyes never leaving the murky corner.

Before he’s certain at all, Mono dropped off the sill and hurried across the room. He skid under the bed and peeked out on the other side, studying the hunched silhouette as another jolt vibrated along his distorted outline. It is so-so critical that Mono be cautious as with be imperceptible. As he bided and observed with unwavering focus, Mono reached behind his head and rubbed at the scab behind his ear.

Unsurprising, the Thin Man does not react when Mono clambered onto the couch cushions and sprang in close to his side. It was a bad fit. Not as alarming as the first, but the man in the hat was struggling. He climbed over the arms looped across the Thin Man’s waist, and perched on the chair's arm. The Thin Man was twitchy, face drawn into a grimace, teeth bared. It was scary. Mono wasn't sure if the Thin Man scared him more, or whatever haunting terror had snagged him. Nothing frightened adults....

With every ounce of his strength, he pushed at the Thin Man’s upper arm. Even a dozen Mono’s wouldn’t have the strength to shift the man in the hat, but he wasn’t trying to jostle him awake. He dug his fingertips into the suit's knit and pulled back, heels digging into the couch arm. Like the way he tried to haul Her out of the television screen.

It looks bad, but it’s not. A dream haunt. He’d seen worse.

One time, he remembered Six had the absolute worst sort of dream haunt. The recollection was terrible, Mono didn’t like to revisit it. He wouldn’t have gotten so close to Her, because children dealt with the terrors of sleep on their own. It was best. Unless to shut someone up, otherwise, they didn’t linger on the nightmares. Done was done, don't die in the awake world. And also, it was taboo to dwell on all the ways they could die. Children that started doing warning speek of the things they saw in the haunts, they went off the deep end fast.

But… she started screeching, and it sounded awful. Agonized. She never made speek like that, except that one... time. The haunting memories became so horrible, he had to stop her. When children cry in the night, they die. That was law. But it was the most horrendous haunt. It was like the monster in the dream was eating her bit-by-bit.

In their scuffle she beat him up pretty good. They never fought like that – if they fought – it was never like that. When-if they fought, it was never to the point of killing the other. Not… like, the one .̷̣͛.̶͕͊.̶̬̑.̶͎̋T̸̯̅i̶̛̼m̷͉̚e̵͇̒. In the skirmish, she swiped for his bag a few times – something she never would ever do to him. It was brutal fight for survival, to the point of failure being certain death. Mono had to hold her down and throttle her out of it, she was going to get them found and killed.

And she bit him good (again, something she almost never did to him). His sturdy coat saved him a debilitating injury, as such, she barely broke the skin. A persisting bruise lasted for a long time, along with a powerful ache. He never brought it up. She was upset and embarrassed, he thinks. If he tried do speek, it would have been strange to drag up the topic. It was gone, he was alright. Maybe she didn't remember.....

"Hey," he hummed, a little louder than he meant to. "Aam got. T's has safe."

When all the usual methods failed to break the Thin Man’s haunt, Mono scrambled to stand on one of the narrow arms and stood high enough to grip the Thin Man's collar. He slapped his hands against the chest, doing not much aside from agitate dust and static whistling. The man in the hat is totally out, otherwise he’d react to Mono’s proximity.

"M'not leave," Mono wheezed. "Keep f'r watch. Make good. Psst? Have'gether. Got'y."

The long arm beneath his toes twitched, and Mono nearly lost his balance. He tugged at the coat lapel, one foot braced to the Thin Man’s chest. This time he would be in the way and might get knocked aside. If he was careful, Mono was might only fall. Regardless the risk, it was harder to wait around and not do anything.

At last, the Thin Man made a little clicking sound and the entire fiber of his being loosened. His head dipped, chin hitting his chest with an audible thump. The static on the air evaporated by a margin, to a more bearable haze. It wasn’t so piercing for Mono now.

A little shaken but all right, Mono crept away from the Thin Man and slipped up to the chair’s arm. He sat and heaved out a deep sigh. Okay. Good. Rather chew on his bandage, he opted to gnaw splinters out of his palms. It was all good. That wasn’t too bad. Some had been worse. More jittery, the man in the hat stayed spooky and distorted.

He’s not sure if his meager efforts helped. There wasn’t a real way to deal with the dreams, aside from ‘die’ in the nightmare and wake up. The lurking terrors hurt, and too much could be dangerous. Some kids lost their minds to them, drove them to desperation and insanity. He was fortunate he’d first smother himself dead than get to thrashing. Kept him alive this long.

The window glistened, a soft twitter of rain pelted across the dingy glass. He couldn't see the Signal Tower from here, only when they went out into the roads. The man in the hat didn't like it to watch. Avoided it. But did look its way, when he thought Mono was not watch. He wouldn't venture too near it's area, but foods and stable places became difficult to secure. And the Viewers —

“Mono?”

He shot off the chair before the stark whir of static registered. The mattress breaks his fall but not by much, its so saturated and near calcified.

“Shouldn’t play. You need to rest,” yawned the Thin Man.

“Aam’watch,” Mono whispered. He dropped off the bed and returned to the broken table, which afforded a slope to the low windowsill. Only low enough for Mono to leap up to, the table was steep and he could only crawl up so far before he slid down the dusty surface. After a few tries, he reached the sill with a leap. “Y’sleep.”

The Thin Man was exasperated. Not this rubbish again. How was he meant to pass those dragging listless hours if he wasn’t allowed to shut his eyes and disconnect from this abysmal world? This… counterproductive child. “Mono. Neither of us need to watch. It is safe.”

The child tipped forward on the sill edge, as if ready to topple head and heels to the floor. “Not n’safe.”

“I am not arguing this with you.” The Thin Man rubbed his eyes. “You have to sleep.” The child inclined his head towards him. “Do you understand safe? The danger here is in not getting enough sleep. You become careless, and get yourself beat up. And I am tired of that.”

Mono glared at the floor below. “Hurt.” At last, he plopped of the windowsill and wandered the room over. Pacing past the dresser and sofa, before crawling under the mattress. The little head did pop out a fraction, peering up at him. “Watch? Safe for.”

Put off, the Thin Man sighed. “Yes. I will watch. Now please, you. For the Eye, get some rest.” The shape flittered out of sight. An invading silence followed.

The Thin Man pushed himself up from the sofa and went to the bedside. He bent all the way over to view where the child was, nestled up against the wall. One eye cracked beside the coat, watching him. “Would you be more comfort—” When he gripped the child around the sides, Mono ripped loose and scurried to the furthest corner of the bed. He gawked at the man in the hat, like he was an unsightly concoction of misaligned mannequin pieces. The Thin Man extended his hand under the bed, but only a ways.

“Aren’t you cold? You can come here.”

The response from Mono was curl into his coat more and stare silently at the Thin Man. The long arm withdrew.

“Y̴̟͊o̴͇̚u̷̩͊ ̴̢͘Á̶̹r̷̲̚ḛ̸́ ̶͕̓A̵͙͝ ̶̦̃S̵̬̔ẗ̵̨́r̴͉a̶̺̅n̴̲̊g̸̳̒e̷̹̎ ̸̻Ǎ̷̯n̵̺͒d̵̟͠ ��͎͝P̵͓͊e̶̙͘r̷̛̻p̴͓͘l̷̻̾e̸̯͒x̸͓͐i̵͈͌n̸̋͜g̶͈̐ ̸̨̚L̸͕͘i̴͓̓t̸͚̒t̶͍̐l̶̨̇e̴̻̅ ̴̙̈́C̵̟͗r̵̆ͅe̴̠a̷͓̓t̸̫̓u̵̱̾ṛ̴̈e̸̮͌.̴̹́” He rose from the floor and surged out, reappearing at the rooms sole entry. “Sleep then. I’ll watch. F̸̘̈́r̵̞͝o̶̭͊m̸̱͋ ̵̤̊O̵̩u̴̖̓t̴̘͝S̷̢̈I̶͈̕D̸̼̏Ė̶̯!̴͙̒” He slammed the door causing the window to crack and the walls to shudder.

Mono cringed under the bed in anticipation for getting hauled out. He's relieved that doesn't happen, but the Thin Man is leave. Will the Thin Man come back? What happened?

The room was empty. He crawled out from beneath the bed, but leaned on the bent leg. In case. He just… tried to have a think. Should let man in the hat hold him? The Thin Man doesn’t like to bother with him, won’t let him be close unless for company. This confused Mono. Company is an awake game. No books or anything for the man in the hat. Then the leave, but Mono was awake. Follow? Was in to follow?

He surveyed the room. Empty. The curling whir permeated, indicating the tall thin man was not quite leave. Not yet. Mono would’ve been okay. If the Thin Man didn’t watch, that might not be good. He hurt Mono without meaning to.

Across the room stood the mostly standing television stand and dresser combination, the burnt husk of the television atop. The dresser stand has one drawer fitted in the bottom, which isn’t flattened entirely. It isn’t too difficult hauling the slot out, and it clattered flat to the floor. He can push it all the way over the dirty carpet and closer to the sofa side, where it’ll be hidden by the mattress. Once it is situated, he can go over to the windowsill and climb up the sloped table.

He inched back and forth on the sill, searching for the intimidating silhouette. The static buzzed at his skin, the Thin Man was not gone, was wait Where! A swirl of thick vapor plows a clue right through his range, and he can see a bit more of the figure if he mushed his face into the glass. The man in the hat was waiting with his back to the door. He likely couldn’t see Mono.

Nonetheless, Mono waved his arms in an animated fashion and stood up, also flashing the edges of his coat. Anything, but knocking on the glass. That wouldn’t be smart.

By some good fortune, the Thin Man did catch a view of Mono, and shifted the glinting eye under the hat bill to view the child. The end of his cigarette gleamed.

Mono fogged the glass and quickly etched in a good speek of the Thin Man. He kept fogging the glass, to keep the speek pronounced despite how dim it was. He looked from it to the Thin Man, and the figure outside only watched this playout. Unmoved. Mono… decided he didn’t like the way the Thin Man glared at him.

With great care he eased down from the windowsill and snuck over to the drawer beside the sofa.

Shouldn’t have done that. Stupid. If the Thin Man wanted to grab, then let. He won’t hurt. Dream haunt could’ve bothered him. It didn’t seem to, but the man in the hat pretended a lot of things did not bother. Except, he didn’t pretend to be okay with Mono. They went everywhere but reached nowhere. Too great a danger in stop. Though, he thinks the Thin Man wanted to not go anywhere anymore. He was always rest, seemed so spent. Dream haunts... they were hard.

The relocated drawer had three walls, not a complete box, but it would do. He flopped into the bottom and tucked into a corner, with only his thoughts, pondering and puzzling. How to do better for the Thin Man? There had to be a foods even he would like. Something that interested the Thin Man, might be more appealing. Those stick things. Did he eat those? He didn’t know where they came from, or if he’d ever seen something like them anywhere.

For the time, Mono can’t think of anything else. He’s too frazzled and weary. When they go back to the roads, he’ll try and find something, when he has a chance for scout. It was time to quiet his thoughts, and do half sleep. It feels good to rest. He dreams about the chair. It is there, sometimes in a flash of static of the television screens. Waiting. He appreciates how it does that.

It is waiting for him, and that is very comforting. It’s a good feeling to be wanted.

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #thin dad #the man in the hat #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

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grim-faux · 3 years ago

Text

2 _ 18 _ Hope and the Storms Eye

First

The dream haunt was pretty horrible. The terrors came regularly whenever he tottered off and got carried away with resting. Sleep was important sometimes, but how to retrieve it was the trick. Friends you left behind, friends that left you behind, monsters stalking the dark pools of memories. Why was sleep so dang important? It never made him feel better. Never. Ever.

Mono crawled out from behind the collapsed sofa seat – his current nest – and face planted. It wasn’t worth it. Exhaustion was very tempting, but the terrors all the more dissuading. He got onto his feet and paced around the room trying to focus on sounds and smell. The room had no windows, but a discouraging bulb gleamed in the ceiling above. At times it flashed when the Thin Man came around, but Mono was typically busy hiding behind the sofa to notice.

This time, he left the room and wandered the corridors. He got lost in the not very difficult to navigate hallway, but after some effort and waking up a tad more, he made it to the small living room. He smelled smoke before he recognized the subdued rustle of static.

He crept under the kitchen table and shuffled out over to where the Thin Man’s legs were. He meant to grab his pants, but collapsed against his shin.

“Mono….”

“Hmm….” He did his best to prop upright and try to wake up a bit. The Thin Man shook him off and, once more, Mono face planted. That woke him up. He folded back onto his knees and scratched at his head.

“Do you need something?”

Mono scrubbed at his good eye and looked up. The man in the hat drank the smoke stick and flipped a page in the book, intently focused on the marks within. From what he could tell they did nothing. Not like static, which had images and sound beneath the layers of chattering. It could be the Thin Man liked the quiet books.

“Der-eem hu-nt. Bad dre’m.” He ruffled his hair and stood. The Thin Man was looking down at him.

“Bad dream. What do you usually do when you have a bad dream?”

Mono shrugged. He didn’t go back to sleep. The worst were the ones that kept on continuing and replaying, especially after something nasty he witnessed. Like the kid getting crushed.

This haunting sleep terror was something about him wandering corridors, those familiar massive passages stretched and looping in the Tower. He thought he was chasing Her, or something else – a mass of flesh and eyes – gurgled through the doorways, pulsating and pursuing him. No matter how he searched, he couldn’t find his way. Couldn’t find his friend, couldn’t get away. Worst of all, he knew no one would come search for him once he was gone.

“Check,” he muttered. “Y’er safe.” With that taken care of, Mono left the kitchen and ventured through the living area to where the main door awaited.

A relocated pot sufficed the reach he needed to trigger the latch. Outside the residence, a tall crate offered his reentry. For now, Mono shoved the door shut all the way and took a direction down one mostly lit passage.

The Thin Man was still annoyed about his book being demolished. Really, Mono did get it. This thing with books the Thin Man had, was something like Mono and his important coat, or his precious paper bag. He was heartbroken about losing his original mask, but he made the Snatchers pay. For everything. He would try and make it right for the man in the hat, somehow.

Though, he really didn’t get off so ‘lightly’, as the Thin Man might’ve expected. Mono suffered a bad tummy ache and was sorely sick from eating the pages. Not the most productive thing he’d ever done. Maybe not an exact book, but something close. The only reason Mono didn’t haul books back to the Thin Man… books were big and heavy, and most he couldn’t barely carry by himself. It was also too obvious. He wanted to bring the man in the hat something unique, new, never seen before. Something that would show Mono paid attention, and was trying. He wasn’t sure if he could succeed in this mission, but he needed to check the hallways and rooms anyway. He’d been very lucky for however long, but the Thin Man wasn’t always around. It was Mono’s job to search and do watch.

When they first came through the building, he never saw a stairs or a lift, or anything. The floor collapsed downward, in layers. To the third, then the second, and then the ground floor below. Planks and tattered clothing afforded connection between the detached levels, along with passages that extended behind the rotten walls. None of this didn’t mean dangers couldn’t lurk, as he knew well, and he never saw where the lift or the actual stairs lay in this building.

Thus far, the separate residencies he pillaged through didn’t convey too many menacing threats. The usual Viewers, caught up in the televisions left rooted to walls or wound up into corners. He found that often rooms and televisions equaled zilch on books, but the spaces he wandered through empty of the fanfare jingle, did relinquish a book or two. However, as suspected when he began, these tomes were too large and hefty for his mightiness. At times if he unearthed some literature, it was a small blessing if it wasn’t tarnished by water and rot. He knew the Thin Man would have no use for a book that was soggy or icky. The man in the hat didn’t prefer icky things. The pages must be crisp and flip one-by-one, this he knew without a doubt. If a book was paper, like his bag mask, then getting it wet would end it.

At long last, and after venturing far beyond the main area of the building, Mono did locate some books in good condition. He could find his way back, it shouldn’t be too much of an issue. First, he had to figure out which book to take. He could only manage one, if they all had survived.

The books remained preserved from water damage due to a suitcase they exploded from. He sat in the small dark room, checking the pages. Searching for something near identical, though aware the book wouldn’t be a replica or anything like that. For one, he couldn’t remember anything about the book he ate, aside from how nice the pictures were. Second, he should avoid a book with those sort of pictures. Third, that book he couldn’t carry. He would have to settle, and hope the Thin Man would accept the token.

After browsing the inner pages and material, he found a book of suitable size and with plenty of pictures. Not as many pages, but close enough. He could hold it in his arms, bundled about the sides. It was no more heavier than a fuse. Carting it back to the upper floors wouldn’t be too grand of a drama, not like the plane. He could throw the book a good distance. And he practiced a few times, as he ventured through the silent and musty corridor.

He does hit an unforeseen snag when he reached an indoor pool. The walls of the building collapsed around the perimeter, barring off an easy pass to the furthest side and pathway that would lead into the building interior. Along with his route to the layers of crumbling floors and floors within.

Mono peered up, guided by the dim light of a flickering lamp dangling from the side of a decimated wall. The first time he came through, he slid down the telephone wire from the pole bent high above the edge of the collapsed roof. The descent was easy, but he never gave forethought to a return. Especially not with a book.

The water might be deep, he isn’t sure. It’s murky and dreary, the top layered with a thick film. Further across the waters surface, a sequence of flotsam swayed. A chunk of planks beside the pool wall caught his eye, perhaps sturdy enough for his weight and the book. If not them both, then maybe the book on its own. If it’s not too deep, he can bounce off the bottom. But he won’t sink, he’s certain, if he holds onto the raft. It won't be so bad, he did something like this before.

Firstly, Mono leaned out and set the book on the floating debris. That secured, he went along to the ruble lying beside the pool and poked around. He unearthed a stout pole with a few boards attached by rusted nails. He knocked off the excess wood, until he could carry his liberated paddle. He hoped onto the raft and pushed off from the pool side, aimed for the furthest wall and hopefully shallow waters. The paddle he dipped through the chunky surface testing the depth, and decided it was much deeper than he was tall. He swept the pole on one side of his raft, then the back, until he figured out how to move forward. He wasn’t skilled with paddling this way, but no one ever taught him. He regretted—

Something snared the paddle and wrenched it from his hands.

Mono snapped loose and gawked, as the water behind his makeshift doorframe-raft churned. The water was black and gray beneath the froth, greasy fins flashed under the surface. The waves rocked his raft, and without a thought he leapt to the nearest side of the pool.

This blind leap fared better than most others. He touched upon a clear space of the wreckage, and despite flailing about in a near graceless wobbling, he caught his balance and toppled among insulation and mortar. He gathered himself up and turned horrified eyes toward the swirling raft and the book abandoned atop it.

Whatever was beneath the liquid was uninterested in the raft and its cargo. The surface subsided in its throes of watery threats, beneath the shining surface he spied a flash of scales. Some kind of monster!

Though no stranger to beasts or creatures, is a book worth this? Fuses and keys, and other instruments for breaching doors is one thing. But a stupid book?

Either way, he was stranded in this small patch among the ruble. He’ll be careful, and if it is too great a risk, he can always abandon his prize. He set his hands on the edge of the pools cracked wall and focused, not on his raft, but some other island of debris loitering in the water. With a flash and crackly squeal, he’s hugging the slanted pole and perched on a bit of wood. He braved slashing his foot into the water, the bold movement triggered something churning through the grime feet away. A thin trail zoomed at his precarious perch, and if he was careless, it could snag his coat and haul him deep into the water.

Mono barely thought, and with a shrill chatter, he crashed into the side of his raft and toppled right into the water!

Blind panic seized him instantly. Or, it would have, if Mono wasn’t stunned from the impact. He snorted water, but managed to cap his breathing and work out the seized state of his muscles. Somehow his hand snared the edge of his boat, this saved him from sinking too far too fast. He righted himself and got his face above the surface. His hat was gone, floated off somewhere. Not important. He choked on the pungent air surging into his frigid throat, instinctively he began kicking. He managed to coax the raft a few inches, before he’s conscious of something surging through the sludge below. With a great deal of effort, he’s hauled up onto the raft enough to gather his bearings and perform another teleport.

This time to a spindly spike of wood, lodged into the pool by some debris on the bottom. Mono searched the surface, as his tether began dipping to its weak side. When he caught visual of the swirling film, he gauged when to make his next teleport. Waiting and waiting, even when he all but lost his landmark to the liquid. He let the creature get as near as he could tolerate, and then made a more graceful but all the same splashy leap to his raft. And the book, perched on the edge.

After several more calculated leaps, and creeping the raft in close to the pools edge, he finally discovered where the shallows were. He stood up to his neck in the water, shoving the boat as close as he could to the edge. He was barely able to stay upright, if not for the buoyancy all around him. When he was about to abandon the raft once more, he’s startled by something right beside him.

WHAP! A geyser of black water erupted upward and came all the way down. Mono fought to haul backwards with the last ounce of his strength and get the raft to safety, before the plume of water cascaded down. He crawled up the steps and out of the water, panting and choking. It took a bit for him to catch his breath and choke up the last of sludge. Foul awful, nasty!

“Chu. Chu?”

He wrenched away from the faint touch on his arm and gawked.

The other child gaped back, as if he insulted the whole method of approaching another living creature. He’s too boggled and taxed by everything to really take the kid in. Clothing, oversized, but fits. Close enough. Dirty gaunt face. Dark skin. Different. Maybe girl? Not sure.

They made a soft click at him, frowning. His hat was gone. His hat was gone.

The kid turned away and went to the pool edge. He observed as they shifted through the greasy film, before snagging something and coiling back. A great deal of effort went into the prospect of hauling out the… it was a fish, he supposed. It didn’t look much like a fish, it was large, about his size, and had limbs, or nubs, big thick barbs stuck out from the fishes face. The monster fish flapped around in open air on the sprawling concrete, and the kid smashed it a dozen more times with a chunk of wood. They didn’t stop, until the misshapen head was more unrecognizable and misshapen. He kind of liked this kid.

He went to the further edge of the pool and liberated his book from its uncertain fate. The kid followed him. They stood a bit taller than him, sort of burley and broad shouldered. He still can’t decide if they are a girl or boy, it’s hard to tell, and it doesn’t matter.

He dropped to his knees and set aside the book. That was too much, he’s not sure if he’ll make it back to the room without a rest. He almost wished the Thin Man was here. Almost.

The kid held out a crinkly bundle, and offered a sound. Speek. Softly. They did speek.

“Hoi,” he whispered. “Foods?”

“Fff…oOOOoo’dz,” they repeated. Then, repeated their speek.

How did they make the sound? He opened the bundle, and found indeed it was foods. Bits of dry stuff and bread bits, it smelled all right. He ate slow and careful, so he didn’t look like a nutcase. He watched the other child intently, suspicious to their motives. Was help? Reason? Was reason?

They watched too, legs bent up and chin resting on a knee. One eye was discolored and the skin around it scarred. That was strange and a little scary, likely an injury.

“Hurt?” he crooned, when finished eating. He reached up and touched his own eye. Though, he knew it was healing well, he could see a little more out of it now. The kid’s eye… that looked like forever.

The kid sighed and cocked their head. “Hhn-eeerrt.” Looking at his face, they reached a hand up to touch their sad eye. “Hrr’nt.”

Maybe it was too dark, they couldn’t see. Mono could only see the poor eye in the sallow light. He tilted his head only slightly, when they waved a hand at his face.

The other child made a creeing, and pointed to them self. Lifting forth the pointer finger, they gestured the other hand in a vague direction. Then, there were two fingers. Two. They made certain Mono understand that one finger was them, and then, they had a friend somewhere. Somewhere. Vaguely out there somewhere. Perhaps scouting, doing scavenging for food. A second set of eyes. Another pair of ears.

“Two.” He used Her speek for numbers. With one finger he pointed to himself, and (he does not hesitate) held that finger out. “Self.” The crinkled paper held some scrap of crumbs, which he was glad to distract himself in picking at. He only raised his head once more, when the other kid patted him on his head.

The other kid held out their hand, and made a churring sound. Or warble. It sounded very friendly and somewhat curious. Like an insect, but pleasant and comforting. This all feels… familiar. They wanted him to come with. Stay. Be together? Them and friend, and him. A small pack, still safe. All of them. Together.

This child seemed capable, as well. He examined the dead fish monster behind them, a trail of red drained out of the caved in eye. Maybe they knew different tricks, or how to escape the dream haunts. Would the other friend be okay with this? It might work out. He could go with them, learn new skills, share things. Important things, such as together, fears, and foods. Watch after each other, find each other, call to each other. It would be nice. The Thin Man wouldn’t care, adults didn’t need anyone.

But… Mono is no good. He is alone, and he runs away. And he hates the way his dreams scream through the sleep, clawing at his guilt and the memories of all the faces he left. It won’t be better with a different child – someone that will be taken from him. Someone that will decide to leave him. Another person to walk away, when he’s no good anymore.

With a surge Mono is on his feet and recoiled backwards. Take by utter shock, the other child collapsed, tripping over the large and very dead fish monster at their heels. All of this drama, followed from the forceful shove by Mono. The other child is not down for long, and with some effort, they haul up and braced themselves. Primed for retaliation or revenge, whichever suited the situation.

Mono doesn’t dawdle, he stole up the book and ran for what it was worth back to the entrance doors of the building. At his back, the slap of the child’s sodden feet follow on the greasy cement. The child can’t follow for long, as he suspected. Not due to any special talents on Mono’s part, but because the Viewers cluster within the first corridor he veered onto. He wasn’t about to risk shooting too near the denizens of the Signal, but Mono came down this way through an open vent in the wall.

The faint footfalls ebb beyond the opening. Even so, Mono didn’t stall or catch his breath. He hugged the book and hiked up the steep incline of the shaft, using his elbows for balance when his damp feet skid on the silt.

Hauling the book up the numerous broken levels of the building wasn’t the trail he thought to appreciate, not until he was trying to hit a mark with the heavy and flappy wings of the book. Without killing it. The climb was much more tedious than the descent, and each floor he made it to, Mono gave pause to examine the tome and insure it wasn't shredded. Somewhere in his tedious climbing, the alarming wail of Viewers burst throughout the inner chamber.

This time he did postpone ascending higher to check and see for what the threat was. He's not nearly as stunned as he could have been, when he recognized the fish beating kid race by on what remained on the floor below. Directly on their back hurtled two Viewers, agitated about something; the kid could've gotten too close. He doesn't see where the kid goes, they disappear over the edge in the floor. The Viewers don't hesitate to barrel off the edge and plunge, several floors down. He tugged the book tighter into his embrace and resumed his tedious ascent.

At long last he hiked up the incline he first came down, to the one door he knew. He set the book on the crate and heaved it over to the door handle and snagged the latch. After some grueling coordination demanding a door be hauled open, shift the weighted crate aside, and enter through the wedge of the doorway, get the panel fitted in its frame. Go back out and retrieve the book he almost forgot, then once more shut the door.

Mono was back.

“Hey. Hoi. Hai.”

The Thin Man wasn’t in the kitchen.

Mono scampered past the lower cabinets, though its apparent nothing is lurking in the shadows of corners. From there, it’s trace through the living area – he whisked through so fast, he might’ve missed the tall figure. However, there is no one present, especially since there is no furniture aside from some tables and stacks of moldering boxes. No Thin Man. Was gone? NoNoNo. Still here. He can feel it.

It’s only the other rooms then. Mono tries the one with the collapsed sofa, and his intuition is rewarded. Not that it was difficult to figure out. The Thin Man slouched beside the sideways fabric chair, hat down and cheek in his palm. Mono hurried around to his side and tossed the book onto his stomach.

“Hey,” he rasped. “Look.”

The Thin Man jolted, static vibrating as he groaned. “What? Child?” He rubbed his face. “What have you gotten into?”

Mono reached over the Thin Man’s middle and patted the book. “Look. M’fix. Try. S’good?” He tried to grip the edge of the book and haul it back, but the Thin Man already plucked it up. “M’sorry. T’s diff-Err-Ant. B’t still.”

“I don’t know what to do with this.” He flipped through the pages. “Why bring this?”

The book was kind of small in the Thin Man’s hands, Mono reflected. “Is… n’good? Not?” He hoisted himself up onto the Thin Man’s side, but the man in the hat pried him loose.

“You’re filthy. Child,” he groused, with an electric huff, “get yourself cleaned. This isn’t healthy.” Rising through a jittery flicker, the Thin Man lifted the child and exited the room. “Why are you like this?”

“No. No. Rice-zipo-rate.”

“Please, don’t start that again.” The wriggling child he held a little out from himself, but much of the grime was caked on and no longer sopping. Meager illumination worked down the walls of the small bathroom, but at least the tub was empty of debris. He set the boy in the tub and tried the faucet. No water?

Absolutely not. The Thin Man pressed his hand on the wall, and water gurgled out of the corroded pipe. The fluid was dark and red at first, until the line flushed out. It looked like the water drained as well. Good.

“Book. T’sorry,” Mono insisted. He inched back from the flow of water creeping in the dip of the tub.

“Look at it later. You’re a mess.” The Thin Man stood and moved to the exit. “Take your time.”

Mono didn’t get it. The book. But, if he scrubbed off some of the grunge… he was kind of a dirty mess.

The water was frigid, but clean for the better part. He sat at the puddle edge soaking out the thick blotches on his shoulders and sleeves, slinging out globs of gelatinous sludge. Until most the fibers in his coat resurfaced, and his hair was liberated from the drudge. Last, he scooted safely from the spewing stream and checked his hats, and most importantly, his new paper bag mask. The paper appeared only dampened at the edges, but it would be fine. Leaving the stream of water was chilly business, but he had to dry out. The sooner the better. The water just seemed to get colder and colder.

Heaving his soggy self over the tub side was a new challenge. He’d hidden in bathtubs a few times, but usually they were dry. A fine layer of goop clung to his clothing. It took a few tries of hoping up and snagging the curved edge of the tub, but at last he had the leverage to get him and his weighted coat over the edge. He crashed to the floor in a graceful broken pretzel. Ow.

He didn’t see where the Thin Man went off to, he wasn’t in the sofa room. Mono went back there to search for the book, see if he took it.

The book was on the floor, but at least it was safe. He took it up and carried it down the corridor, back to the living room. As expected, the tall thin man was seated at the kitchen table examining one of his choice picks. Mono thought about trying once more, but he supposed if the Thin Man wasn’t interested in the book, then it was his now.

He went to a corner of the room not far behind a shattered nightstand, and sat down to check out the pages. It was a stack of pages with substance, not a pamphlet or a thing stapled together. The Thin Man preferred big heavy books, but some of them had picture speek. Not all. He liked the patterns that looked like static. Maybe he liked the pictures of food? This book didn’t have pictures of food, but different things.

One thing in the book looked like a plane. He built a plane, it flew. The plane in the book was a different shape, different in many ways. But it had wings and a fan on its nose. It had a tail too. It was a plane.

Other things he didn’t know what they were, not exactly. Machines. Children sometimes did speek about malicious machines, of teeth and grinding. Machines lived in factories and ate many different things, and then sent out many different things. Elevators were machines, fuses gave them life and power. Machines didn’t work without electricity or power. Electricity made up the Thin Man, among other things. This Mono knew, because he could feel it. Like he could sense energy in machines, such as the televisions and the screaming box.

He saw a car before, but not like the one in the book. The wheels, the color. Different. Real cars were not a common sight in the city, most got swallowed up. There were other machines, other things in the book, which Mono had never seen before. He found the portrait fold out of stars and the moon. He hadn’t seen the moon in forever, nor the stars.

He hunched over the book tracing the different shapes of the moon – waxing and crescent, to quarter, and full. He missed the sky and the stars, and the moons many changes. He watched the days go by, and understood time did not hold still.

So many different things in the book. The pictures conveyed messages he didn’t understand, but he grasped one thing. It gave meaning to the travelers lost in their journey. The speek was so crisp and refined, not like the childs hasty scribbles. It told stories, but did not know about the real dangers to warn against. That was comforting in a way.

Somewhere in his single-minded exploration, he’s blanked out in a sleep. Mono isn’t fully aware he’s been KOed by exhaustion, not until the cramped tent of the book is peeled back from his face. And then he’s up and alert, scoping for threat and hazard. The Thin Man dropped the book at his feet.

“Hai.” He’s still on edge, glancing around. Danger? Is there danger? Where? “Hunh?”

“Are you ready to leave?” the Thin Man ventured. “There is no food here.”

Mono ruffled up his sticky hair. He needed to wake up first. “No….” The book was in a folded collapse, but he rescued it and unfurled the pages. “Show. S’book? Mark speek?” He opened a page and indicated the static pattern.

“What? This thing?” The Thin Man knelt down and accepted the book. He frowned at the contents. A lot of pictures, along Mono’s line of interest. It was utterly childish and simplistic, a child’s picture book of all things. “This… isn’t very good material. It’s too… complicated.” He settled on. “This speek is difficult for me.”

Mono tilted his head. “Speek. Not… know?” He raised his arms toward the book and made grabby motions.

“We’ll find you a better book. More in your age range.” He pushed Mono’s hands down and ruffled his hair.

“Aye-gee.” What was that?

“How old are you?” The Thin Man was in fact curious. He’d forgotten how old he was, when he suffered the treachery. It had been such a long-long time. “Child?” Mono blinked owlishly. “Never mind. This…” he held the book up, “it is not right for you. We can find something better. You would like that, hmm?”

Mono bounced a little on his toes. “S’mine. F’r sorry. F’not t’want, n’mine. Find.” He tried climbing the Thin Man’s thigh, but the man in the hat pushed him away and stood. Mono reached. “F’not give…? T’n share.”

The Thin Man took a step back. “No, Mono. You don’t need this.”

Confused and at a loss, Mono clasped his hands to the back of his head. “Want? S’yours?”

“Yes. This is mine now. Thank you.”

When the Thin Man turned to abandon the situation, Mono hastened forward and snatched at his ankle. “Wait. Th’n… can share? Help. T’speek, make werk. To pictures. Show, then… n’help. Aam…. I help?”

The Thin Man pushed his hat up and rubbed his forehead. “Enough, child. That’ll be enough. You are not getting this back. It’s rubbish. All right? No good. Not need.” In a flicker, he was leaving.

“No! Wut not w’k? S’wrong? Broke? M’sorry. Sorry!” He charged after the Thin Man, following the sizzle of static into the kitchen. “Take. T’keep. S’have tu learn! Wait!” In a flash the man in the hat was beside the cabinets; he opened one of the topmost and tossed the book in. “I ll’help. M’ke w’rk. Fix! N’fix! T’fix! T’fix! Not!” The cabinets didn’t have handle grips, but he could pull the bottom drawers out. “M’sorry. Juz n’take.”

The Thin Man took him around the middle, to pry him loose and set him on the floor. “No child, we are not take.” He held the collar of his coat, but Mono pushed on the tips of his toes against the gritty laminate. Getting nowhere. “We will find you a more suitable book, but now, we are leaving. No discussion. Are you listening?”

“Ss… mine!”

“No, Mono! No. Not for you.” The Thin Man scooted Mono aside, and with the child far enough out of range, settled his other hand against the front of the cabinet drawers stacked up.

When the Thin Man withdrew, Mono raced over and tried to pull a drawer out. It… didn’t budge. None of them would. This time, he tried climbing the coarse surface to reach the countertop. He couldn’t leap and reach the countertop. Next, he turned and examined the table with the chairs hunkered around it. Falling on his final option, he glared at the Thin Man standing, arms crossed

“Fix.”

The Thin Man flicked his hand and spun away. “No.”

“S’not funn-eh,” Mono hissed, shoulders tightened. “T’s book. For’yu. Fix’d broke. Wuz try.”

After a few steps and a flash, the Thin Man did turn back. “I don’t want that book. I can’t haul around every book I find.”

Mono reached for the cabinet high above, and the book he knew was within. “T’s. Want. T’at. All’t. Important.” The static vibrating and the Thin Man muttered something, he glitched and appeared close to Mono and knelt. Mono retreated a step.

“There are better books in the city,” he pleaded. Settling his hands around Mono, he kept him in place. “Many more, better, waiting to be found.”

Mono wriggled away, or tried. The fingers tightened over his shoulders. “Important.”

With a rustle and a flicker from the light above, the Thin Man recoiled and stood. “Very well. You can stay here, with your book. I am leaving, but I will not return.” He took his casual strides, toward the living space.

“Not. D’take! Not n’leave.” He hovered in the entry of the kitchen, conflicted with remaining in the empty residence. And unable to reach the book. “Ph-lez. Not.” The Thin Man stood at the door with his hand on the handle.

“This is done, C̷̪̉h̶͈̕i̶͚̎l̵͇̃d̸̫̑. I am not waiting for you this time.” The tall figure pushed the panel outward and stepped through. “Do whatever you wish. I will have no part of it.”

Mono tore from the kitchen entrance and hurried after the retreating shadow. “Come. M’come. Here.” He did look back one or more times, to the dull gleam of the cut-out form of the entry. Fading with each step he took, becoming dimmer and more distant.

The Thin Man was right, of course. Of course. That didn’t stop the dull ache in his chest or how tight his throat felt. Even for one thing, he couldn’t let him have that? It wasn’t fair. But he wasn’t going back, and he wouldn’t protest it further. The corridor was murky and he didn’t… it was hard to find his way.

“You don’t recall when last you ate, do you?” the voice came.

Probably the best indication that it had been some good time, a day or so if those still existed. Mono chewed on his palm and shook his head, indifferent if the Thin Man saw or not. He pursued the rhythmic clicking down the sloping floor.

“We’ll find you a better book,” he repeated. A little further ahead, after a thrumming pop. “Would that make it right?”

Mono shrugged. It wouldn’t be the book he found, the important book. But the Thin Man did whatever he wanted, and went wherever he wished. That was the way it was. Nothing Mono did or say was important.

“S’comp-in-ee?” he whispered. The steps fell silent, and Mono hurried closer. He peered up, only able to discern a bleak suggestion of the face.

“Y…es?”

That was what the man in the hat called it, anyway. Company. It is what they shared, he supposed. It was not together, it was them in the same place. Mono was allowed to follow the Thin Man. The Thin Man reminded him, kept him close, waited when his legs failed. It wasn’t pack. They had differences. The Thin Man was adult, and Mono was child. Mono had to understand he couldn’t expect the same things, as what he shared with his previous packs. Packs formed out of share and necessity, the bare minimal to survive, and barely managed that.

They failed. His friends were gone. She didn’t want him. The Thin Man was the only constant. He had someone that couldn’t be stole or hurt or taken. Good.

Mono looked up-and-up at the tall-tall figure. “M’comp-un-knee?” He tugged at the collar of his coat.

“Yes, child,” he hummed. “You are my company.”

Before the figure could resume walking, Mono snagged his ankle. “Bu’t. S… n’good comp’an-ee?” The Thin Man pursed his lips. “M’mean, is to n’m-ee, m’Mono. Good n’s—”

“Are you good company? Yes. Splendid. Let us go, before the storm rallies it’s strength.” With that, the gloom rippled and the shape vanished. He could still detect the static buzzing, grating. Agitated, more likely.

The book wasn’t important. However, Mono remained determined to find something that would intrigue the man in the hat. He could do that. Keep trying, he was good at that.

In the meanwhile, he’d bar himself against the sour ache in his chest and in his gut. Lethargy nipped at his eyes, and he was more than famished, but he wouldn’t find food sitting around. But the Thin Man was right, even if he hurt Mono without meaning to. The book was temporary and it was small, but like Mono, it endured so much. He could’ve made an exception, even for a little while. It was important to him.

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #thin dad #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #mono trying his hardest to fix things

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grim-faux · 3 years ago

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2 _ 6 _ Forgotten Places

First

It was a rare day scarce of the seemingly endless drizzle, the inner-city barren of fog. Except for the swarming clouds colluding with the Signal Tower’s spire. However, it was the bleak midway of night, and there were only so many of the streetlamps gleaming across the damp roads. Light glittered and refracted from murky windows; in one emptied frame, the dull moan of a static broiled television chattered, all while a long and menacing shadow bent across the damaged wall.

This evening, the Thin Man was more alert of the perimeter, mindful of shapes that might slither when his back was turned. When the weather was calm this way, it was probable – if not established – children, or other creatures skulked about in the absence of the pummeling downpour. It was difficult to conceal presence without the mask of rain chatter and distortions.

The weather happened to be in good spirits, when he decided to head out from their current shelter. The boy was in one of those moods; dour and more uneasy than he had been in a while. It would have been preferable to stay in the small shop a day or more longer, but he couldn’t recall the last time Mono had eaten. Anything. Of all people, the child was no help in determining answers. If he stopped to chew let alone looked at what he was eating once in a fortnight, there wouldn’t be such mysteries in the world.

The child followed at a distance, and in the intermittent pauses to let him catch up, the Thin Man scanned around. A part of him hoped he’d spy an-other-child on the roam, shifting through the murk at the fringes of the sidewalk. He could vanish in a flicker, perhaps frighten the child, but negate any association he might have to Mono. It was possible.

Despite H̴̲͝e̷̥̿̂̔͠r̵̥̓̾̍̈ betrayal, he still held out on optimism for a child or troupe that might pack with Mono for a while. He didn’t need the child so attached to him, unable to reacclimate to child laws. Suspicion lingered in him that Mono’s recovery wouldn’t fulfill, unless he disconnected from his nightmarish shadow. The present, unprompted mood the boy manifested was proof of that. The child sought the most convenient outlet for security and support, but once he could pass into a niche among a pack of children, Mono would be all the better. This, the Thin Man was certain.

The road dragged onward as a convoluted disaster, ripped and splint in terrible ruin, limiting his direction due to the childs inability for leaping through temporal teleports. Not that he’d suggest the child to tamper with his abilities in a trail here, he could offer to carry him. Alas, Mono was not likely in that mood, though he did speculate to probe. The smaller one seemed content to poke around at odd things, papers wadded and crammed into gutters and maybe chase a rat. He hoped the child didn’t catch one.

Further within one of the intact roads, an intriguing edifice loomed in the baleful midnight. The Thin Man ventured around the corner of the road and waited, checking for where the child was. Once Mono caught up, he resumed his gradual stride toward the malformed structure. The nearer they ventured, outline and substance filled out the bent and crumbling walls. Dull illumination cast by a streetlamp sifted an eerie sheen on one lone solid wall.

The Thin Man gave the outer region a brief examination, taking stock of televisions about (inactive by his whim), the foliage, and discarded remnants of rot, deflated bodies of Viewers or other creatures. A portion of the structure locked into a larger and far more extensive structure, which faded out through the sprawling blackness of the roads abundant. This aside, nothing else appeared out of sorts – no creaking calls from damaged gullets, upon glance the terrain was fortified enough.

In one side of the building awaited a door, partially opened already. He flashed, and with a sizzle of waves, appeared within the citadel. Mono could slip in through the doorway, but the child was not with him at current.

Haste wasn’t necessary to relocate the child. There didn’t appear to be any danger, and the child had located an alternative means to enter.

A skeletal tree afforded reach to a shattered slate of window. Mono crouched in the frame, examining the endless black swirling below. More on edge and animated than he had been during the walk.

With a short flick of his eyes, the surviving lights in the ceiling pulsed dimly. One burst outright, casting a shower of sparks across the Thin Man’s hat. Mono jolted at the sudden flash, but recovered without incident. Given appropriate context of the floor, he plopped in.

Tables and chairs mounted to the buckled grounds littered the area, and the bulk of the chamber catered to a large construct of winding tunnels, hollowed bulbs, and other playground equipment soldered into an amalgamation of madness. The structure languished, coated in slime and grime from endless water rolling down from the shattered skylight. Even now, the subdued trickle of endless showers walloped the vacant space abound.

Mono poked around at the open crawlways of the massive structure, debating where the passage would lead. It was only natural.

For a while though, he is distracted by a set of swings off to the side. He wandered around the poles, before taking a seat on one of the remaining panels held by the chain. Curious, the Thin Man meandered over and gave the play equipment a cursory inspection. Without a word, the child watched him pluck at the chains in turn on the other swing seats – watching them sway idly – before touching the lines tethered to Mono’s seat. Cautiously, he pushed on the chains, causing the child to sway to-and-fro.

The careful but unexpected movement spooked the child; he tucked his legs up and gripped the chain, nearly falling. When the swaying stopped, he peered up at the Thin Man as if baffled. Same as before, the Thin Man gave the chain a short nudge, and the child swayed. This time, not as alarmed. He uncoiled, as the Thin Man continued to give a light touch to the chain. However, the chain emitted a faint mournful whine, which prompted Mono to stumble off and stall the bunched chinks.

A few other features of the place caught the child’s interest. It must have been some structure built for children, due to the size, and all the accessories catering to fitness and activities. The Thin Man might’ve viewed something like it in the transmission, but it was an unimportant reference.

He drifted around, listening to the stillness and taking comfort in this isolation. This all did not mean nothing would emerge to pursue the child, thus one couldn’t be too careful about what loitered in hollowed spaces. One side of the building sported a section distinct from the children’s zone, with all the manifestos of food preparation in place.

In Mono’s exploration, he found a space in the glass where film was rubbed away. Some chunks of crayon lay abandoned, along with speek. Some warnings of an Eye, a spindly thing, he recognized what must have been Duck Kid, though he couldn’t be certain. Duck toys were not a scarcity.

The crayons didn’t show spoilage from waiting in neglect. He gave the area a scan, though he doubted he’d sight anything with the Thin Man prowling. He rubbed his nose and leaned up at the glass, locating an open and mostly cleaned space to lay down some lines. He sketched out some of the things he’d seen, a bit inspired by the duck and child.

At his back the bristle on the air closed in, and a distorted shadow cloaked his canvas.

“No speek of me?”

He shook his head. A bent and gnarled figure stood over a pack of children, fingers gnarled. A basket. Then a chair. This time, he added a warning of the spin-head creature; he never saw its body.

Once he was satisfied with the message, he scooted away. He’s a little concerned with the Thin Man over there, examining the speek. Of course, he wouldn’t add the Thin Man, or himself. He didn’t think other children would be near, but he wasn’t taking chances.

He returned to a passage opening in the unyielding construct, and peered into the endless curtain extending forever. An absence of vibration existed, the boiling air stale and humid. The smell was awful, like decay and isolation. The bottom was greasy, it was entirely possible something or someone died in there. He braced his feet to the mostly uncoated sides and inched into the dark pit, finding purchase easily enough. If he lost his footing, he’d coast on out without issue.

“Mono,” the Thin Man rasped, voice buzzing, “Danger.”

That was a true, he would admit. So he turned around and stood up on the lip of the entrance. When the Thin Man turned his back, Mono swung around and hoisted himself onto the outside of the tunnel. Plenty of crevices in the swollen log offered handholds, which anchored, and gave reach as he went higher. The disturbance on the gloom prickled his skin, while he continued – reaching for the next length of complete space in the corrupt hole fortress.

“Really? Is that necessary?”

Mono wasn’t certain what the speek was, and he couldn’t shrug. He inched sideways, feet placed securely in an open slot while his hands held a bar. His aim now was some stretched canopy, above a bridge. The rail gave some leverage, which delivered him upward still. His aim next a cracked and hollowed opening, at the top. Even higher he went, while the structure mastered his weight without protest. This was good, a test for agility and capabilities. He was always a good climber.

Peering across his shoulder, he found the Thin Man nearly dwarfed by the elevation. The looming figure was distracted by one of the windows, the hat and its owner diverted full focus elsewhere. Mono took a risk and slid to a branching tube, between two towers. He inched along in a crouch, searching beyond the demolished glass of the building for any movement.

What does the Thin Man do with other children? Chase? He couldn’t ask. It scared him.

Though probably not as much as the wallowed shriek that shuddered through the hallowed log beneath his palms and feet. He buckled down centering his gravity, even as the large cylinder pitched sideways. Somehow, he managed to hold onto the sleek surface, only because he vaulted off and staggered to the towers side. A large bulb sat on the shoot, several circles in its sides and peak punched out. It creaked and folded sideways, with him still trying to claw along for salvation.

The fall itself might not do a lot of damage, but the whole amalgamation of twisted tunnels, cable, and cracked walls was disintegrating into a ragged trap of punishment. He braced his feet to the base of a spire as it twisted under his grasp, forcing an unprompted leap. The sharp lash his hand took threw him far of course, he cleared the ruble sprawling below, but snagged the Thin Man by his shirt front.

Not just his shirt front, but by his collar. And the uncomfortably close face did not look happy with his proximity. Mono recoiled, his fingers reflexively balked and as before, plunged backwards.

His reckless tumble was canceled entirely by a tightly woven embrace. Scrambling for a hold of something or anything is impossible, with his arms pinned at his sides. He’s disoriented by the steady rocking, further away the peeling racket of the toppling structure pierced the suffocating black he’s enveloped in. Fall? Where? The static thrummed through his ears, insisting he was all right. Not fall. A stifled whimper did escape him; he did not like having nothing to grip or being unable to see.

Through the muffled clasp, the last of the twisted edifice imploded entirely. It didn’t sound too terrible, but he would have been lucky to walk away without a ruined limb. Or more. He winced, while the pieces and bulk settled, announcing their conclusion through trumpeting clamor.

Only when he stopped struggling and the noise dried out completely, did the tight bars around his body shift by a margin. A little light winked through as a familiar hold settled around his chest, and he was lowered to the ground. He tried to get away, but the fingers remained latched over his shoulder. Options and escape revoked, he looked aside.

“Danger,” the Thin Man reminded. The former irritation absent. “Did I not say?”

Mono afforded a nod, but kept his gaze downcast. Until a thumb pried under his chin, forcing his head to turn up. His lip trembled.

“That recklessness. Not necessary.”

Once the hand released, Mono withdrew a distance. “Nassa-Ary.”

“Not need,” the Thin Man clarified. “Not helpful. Hurt.” The Thin Man’s focus drifted to the decimated ruble, the corner of his mouth twitched down.

Mono mimicked the expression. He was disappointed. It would have been fun to have done more exploration around the thing, though clearly there was more excitement inside. Then he reasoned, the structure would have collapsed with him inside if he tried to explore the passages, as he would the pathways beneath floorboards or a crack in the wall. He sniffled at the dust swirling on the air. That would have been terrible.

He inched over to the Thin Man’s leg and tugged at his slack. “S’loud.” The Thin Man began walking, and he followed. He couldn’t get out through the window now, anyway.

“We will find something else to look at,” he assured. “Something more durable.”

The Thin Man led the way to the entry he came through. In a flash and pulse of air, he’s beyond the walls of the strange fortress. But stands, waiting.

More than enough space was available in the ajar door that Mono could slip through, but the door was glass. He could see somewhat through the corrupt windowpane. He took a breath and pressed against the side of the window, the fractured surface creaked with the brute force supplied. He didn’t try often, but it the Thin Man wait, he would show. Sometimes he could practice in secret.

In a brief but sudden pop, Mono is flung through the muddled barrier and sliding across the pavement. He shoved himself upright to peer up at the Thin Man, but his smugness is shattered at once. Alongside the remnants of glass, the material disintegrated entirely within the frame and gushed outward in a glittering cascade.

Mono gawked, absolutely mortified.

The Thin Man couldn’t help but press a hand over his face. “Your technique for door smashing has improved.”

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #the man in the hat #the tall thin man #thin dad #mono is the child that will climb EVERYTHING

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grim-faux · 3 years ago

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2 _ 14 _ Some Space and Time

First

The house was simplistic with simplistic places and spaces, with far simplistic items to afford. In his brief scout of the area, nothing stood out immediately that couldn’t already be accounted from the multitude of other residencies he’d gone through. A few large rooms, the smaller rooms, a kitchen, in among a scant few amenities. Of course, the clothing left strewn on a couch or chair, and the televisions – one of which was left in the bathroom. Those devices he made certain stayed inactive, while in the child’s company.

While he continued to browse around the rooms, he left the main entries locked tight and let the child to wander under his own whim. For the time. Only to satisfy any anxiety for the security of the space, given it was larger than the condominium dwellings packed within the skyscrapers, and the living space expansive. Tuning the transmission had not been… as effortless, as it had been in the past. But his careful hand had delivered them to a relatively calm district, this ‘suburban’ territory; activity a minimal, which meant less food stuffs abandoned, and far stranger creatures lurked. The misshapen shadows detached from the Signal Tower still loitered out of distance and didn’t pay much attention to the Broadcaster.

The child was more attuned to threats, than those threats taking notice of a little anomaly pursuing an adult. Even if the Thin Man didn’t account fully of the hazards skulking on the fringes, he always suspected when they were present by the uncharacteristic closeness of the boy.

The Thin Man spied the child once more, creeping out of a clutter filled corridor. A cup clasped between his hands, which he sipped at cautiously. The day clung damp but the sky clear of drop or sprinkle, though a low fog swirled beneath the dense canopy. The kitchen had nothing to offer that was viable, but Mono might try scratching through again just to be certain. He offered a glass of water to preoccupy the child.

“Have you found your place for sleep?” the Thin Man grumbled, as he shut a cabinet door affixed to a bookcase. The child gave him a placid look while tugging the cup to his face. “Child? This is rest. You need it.”

Wearing a new hat, the boy shook his head. He turned and wandered off, slipping through a doorway near the staircase.

This was the mean of reasons why his charge was constantly lethargic and unfocused between actual scores on edibles. Often he was unable to walk straight, unless those aforementioned antagonists lingered too near for comfort, and for a short period the boy perked up. However, the moment the Thin Man identified a location with the prospect of safety, the child was ď̷͙r̸̗̐ï̶͉v̵͍̚e̸̖̽n̴̼͗. It would be a while before Mono actually sat down, and there would be no guarantee he’d shut his eyes let alone lay his head down. Observing this whole event... grated on his strained awareness.

Distantly, the Thin Man could recall the terse instances of resting upright, back pressed to a wall or wedged between two lockers in a school. Mind alert, half sleep, ready to spring at the first sound or sight of something nasty. Only the stylish coat and his paper bag to bar out the chill, the cover made his appearance less child and more debris. Rubbish to overlook by careless seeking eyes. A splint second for him to gather the wasted time, spring away, the precious added seconds to keep ahead of something he didn’t quite know or see – never look back. Don’t stumble. Every speck of a second tallied towards survival.

He gave his head a shake. Those days were gone. Distant, dusty recollections he held no association with.

The lights pulsed in the ceiling as he passed, his shoes clicking gently as he traced his way toward a tattered recliner stationed by a collapsed center table. He set one leg on the edge of the broken furniture and adjusted his posture, only to observe from afar the room he last saw the child skitter into.

“You are to be resting,” he called. “Why ever stop if not rest?”

Not long after his voice was raised, the smaller one made an appearance and came over to the recliner. Very firmly he delivered, “Look. S’careful,” Then as before, tottered off.

The Thin Man slouched and dug his cheek into his knuckles as he sat, watching the child zip up the stairs. “If you become stranded somewhere, don’t whine about it. I am not in the mood.” He debated activating the television on the nightstand, but that would be a poor choice. Any television within range, the boy delivered a longing look when he thought he was not observing.

It was no mystery the child wanted to learn the method to tune the transmission, dictate his way through the static with ease and confidence. Without blowing out the device. When the Thin Man utilized the transmission, the child was always peering, curious and prying. Often the hovering was obnoxious as it was jarring and the Thin Man would be forced to scoot his charge aside, in order to focus through the whirring snow.

The technique for how it was done remained a mystery the Thin Man was reluctant to share, even if Mono would learn in his own time. Inherit might be more appropriate. Most important and difficult to acclimate to was knowing the situation of the receiver television, to which the singular frequency connected. Much harder to do, when traversing long distance and detached from the various units across the city. The Thin Man never chanced a random leap.

While it was quiet, he tipped his hat down and pretended nothing could go wrong. All the while, the child was on the loose rooting for problems.

Upstairs in one doorway among the gloomy scatter of an eroded corridor, soft radiance flashed. In the room a sideways pole lamp offered an interesting diversion, as Mono twisted the switch. It was hard to do, the grooves hurt his palms, but he could do it. It was fascinating. Usually, he had to hit a switch with a dense object or pull a lever.

Briefly, he paused and gave a listen on the air whipping across the roof eaves. A busted window presented an escape if necessary, outside a crooked tree swayed and clacked against the waterlogged walls. Though the location felt bare of threats and catered to a more natural stillness – of the lack of anything rather than something mastering stealth – he remained alert. Always. Becoming too comfortable always brought about a lingering unease, and his heart would pulse erratically. It was normal, Mono just didn't like it.

He plucked up the cup of water and carried it to the side of a bed, slanted across the room at a strange angle. After a tentative sip, he set the cup down and then climbed the ragged mattress and stood on the surface. Adjusting his hat, he gave the room a survey. He heaved a bedsheet over the side, and tugged it down across the floor. This activity made a little cover, and he could hide under the shade provided by the papery thin veil. Under the bed lay a few crumpled boxes and a busted suitcase, additional cover from prying eyes. He made a note of this location.

From the mattress top, he scaled up the grainy wood of the bedpost and perched high on the flattened top. Nothing else of this room caught his fancy, aside from a partially opened closet space. Some shoes and shirts, or other discarded and useless pieces from the previous occupies. Nothing he could make use of.

He let himself down to the mattress, then hoped to the floor. He took his cup and wandered through the hall, ears wary and muscles tense. Through the roof, the foundation, down the walls – the entire structure creaked in a familiar but eerie way. In another place and time where buildings were not dilapidated and on the verge of disintegrating entirely, the noises might be soothing. But he had been in far too many buildings that felt the whisper of a presence and died instantly on top of his head.

He pressed his back against the grainy wood of a door and forced the panel open a few spare inches. Always, he’s careful of the cup in his grasp.

Not much to see in this room, apart from some outside elements decorating the floor, such as leaves and twigs. That was kind of nice and different. Bones of some animal or a person, he’s not sure, there’s not much; those pieces lay in one corner of the room. A short bookcase slouched beside one wall.

Up above, shelves stuck out from the wall. On one, he could define the basket work of a crud nest peeking out.

Despite it not being anywhere within range, Mono set down the cup and climbed onto the bookshelf. If the Thin Man was in a good mood, maybe he would check for eggs. They wouldn’t be his first choice, but he couldn’t remember the last time he ate. There was the stale popcorn, he didn’t blame the Thin Man for not wanting that. He was picky about foods, and that would never cease to irritate Mono.

He made his decision and clambered off the bookshelf. His presence among the rubbish stirred up leaves and dust, but his attention locked onto a steadily drifting thing in the draft. He waved his hand, as he scanned the area and the doorway for movement or eyes. None. Once assured, he brought his focus back to the floating feather. That was neat. If he blew on it, the feather coasted a little higher. So effortless. So carefree.

Gently, he clasped his palms over the feather stem, then, rushed out of the room and scurried down the steps. The Thin Man was still in the big room, maybe rest? Or not. The hat shifted a margin as Mono approached along the side of the chair, not a great amount, but enough to make him dubious. He hoped he wasn’t sleep, but the tall thin man didn't make smoke when sleep. Not always, but sometimes he forgot?

Keeping close to the chair side, he reached out to the furthest his arm could go and tugged the pants leg.

“Please, child.” It was off putting how weary the man in the hat sounded. But Mono had to show him. This was a rare thing.

“Hey,” he hummed. And waved the feather. He tipped his head far back when the lights flickered. “Psst?”

“What?” The Thin Man adjusted his hat and gave Mono some attention. That focus was drawn to the fluffy item, though he didn’t seem enamored by it. He stole his shoe heel from the center table and reached low.

Mono handed off his treasure and waited, titling his head as the Thin Man gave the small, peculiar thing a brief examination. He didn’t know what to do with it, likewise, his expression didn’t break from its indifferent gleam.

“Well, isn’t that magical?” He addressed the child. “Do I keep?”

Mono shook his head and reached out. With palms up, he made grabby motions with his fingers. The Thin Man relented the small find, and Mono took a few steps back. Casting his eyes to the Thin Man to assure he was paying attention, he opened his palms and blew on the feather. He’s pleased to see that the soft item would float down here just as well as it did upstairs. The way it spiraled and twirled with every little puff was his favorite; if he let it alone it drifted, simple and content.

Another puff, and it was sailing above his open arms as leisurely as before. Mono could use his hands to fan it, and that worked almost as well. He could guide the feather this way or that, but he decided most studiously it must never touch the floor. The spectacle of all this would be broken.

“Mage-ik-Al.” Another confident huff sent the feather swirling and coasting sideways.

“Oh, impressive,” the Thin Man spoke, and flicked aside his smoke stick. “I’ll do you one better.”

A little confused and anxious, Mono discarded his instincts and stepped back. The Thin Man reached low and settled a hand beneath the feather, before it could return to him. A faint tingle flashed through the air, not enough to disturb the lights – but the feather! The feather sort of repelled itself upward, without so much as a breath. It gained such a lofty height; Mono couldn’t hope to reach. Couldn’t hope to send it to such summits. Not even the plane could dream so big.

“Tol.” Mono twirled beneath the feathers anticipated trajectory, awestruck. He cast a suspicious glance toward the man in the hat, studying how his hand moved and his fingers swayed. The feather obeyed all suggestion, drifting or dipping, swinging into wide loops as it descended. Mono made certain he was always below, ready to catch in case. That was the game, after all. “How?” He sprang, trying to steal back his treasure. He missed the wide smirk on the Thin Man’s face.

“Trade secret.” This was in the least endearing, and easy to deal with. If the feather were allowed much too low, the child would tense and leapt. He kept it suspended just out of range, even when Mono tried climbing the center table to gain some elevation. Mono didn’t seem upset by this scheme; he was too dazzled by the wonder. The child did little whirls, coat flashing around his knees. Try and try as he might, he couldn’t retrieve the feather.

At last, the boy let his arms flop at his sides and gawked skyward.

“Do you want it back?”

The child nodded, not breaking focus of the winding feather. Utilizing a slight of hand, the Thin Man snatched the feather from midair and swept his hand around the child’s side. The boy wrenched around, tumbling and staggering away from the abrupt intrusion. He retreated a distance from beside the broken table and looked around, and then up.

The Thin Man reeled back his arm and braced his elbow to a knee, he settled his chin on his knuckles and observed. “Aw… did you lose it? It was right there.” Mono spun in place, still searching the floor. “No. No. I see it. It’s right there.” He twirled his other finger around, and pointed. “Try your coat.”

Mono was becoming exasperated. This wasn’t fair. He glared at the Thin Man, aware he was being messed with. The question was, where did he put the feather? Did keep, or what? Something brushed his elbow and he twisted, losing his footing and dropped to one knee. He got up and felt around his shoulders, then his sides. What?!

“Ah. At last, you’ve got it. Bravo.”

Mono hissed. He grabbed the feather, but when he tried to move it out from him, it stuck to his sleeve. He tipped his head, trying to clasp the feather in both hands and relocate it. No such luck. It had a very miniscule but distinctive pull, the plume threads stretched toward him when he swung it away from his coat. As if drawn….

He cast a casual eye toward the Thin Man sitting there, smirking down on him.

“Fix.” He still tried to swing the feather away, run away from it. Throw, and then run away. The feather chased no matter what.

“I don’t think so," snorted the Thin Man. "This is quite amusing.”

Mono went to the Thin Man’s leg and tried to shove the feather against his shin. Naturally, that benefits him to no amount. While backing away and trying to slap the feather off, he gets into a brutal fight with the feather. Swishing his coat, and hoping beyond hope that with enough distance he can dislodge the suspicious force which draws it to him. Anything, but remove his coat. He didn’t like that.

At last, exhausted of all remedies, Mono sat down, and worked for a while on catching his breath. The stupid feather glued to his shoulder, mocking. He let his hat sink over his eyes. Not fair.

“How sullen,” the Thin Man cooed. “But you look so stylish with your new accessory.” He reached out and swept the feather from the child’s shoulder. This time the boy didn’t move, aside from flinch. The feather he took and relocated it to the top of his hat.

Mono pulled the hat down and inspected the damage. He frowned, but resisted the urge to touch or tamper. Instead, he stood and swung his hat down, then with all his might he hurled it straight up. A little delayed, he realized what he had done and dashed aside, arms outstretched to catch his precious treasure. No matter if the feather began haunting him once more.

The Thin Man’s arm lashed out and stole the hat from midfall. Mono let his arms drop and pivoted, regarding the tall thin man. Took his hat.

“If you want these items back,” the Thin Man extracted the feather from the fabric untroubled. “You need to first quiet down and rest. No more play.”

Mono squared his shoulders and clenched his fists. Then, shot off in a silent retreat. He veered toward the offshoot room near the stairs.

With a groan, the Thin Man shifted and flashed, now poised upright. He pocketed the hat and pursued the child. If he had to, he would tie that boy to a table leg or something. “Don’t be this way. This is all excessive, and it is a high risk to your health.”

Upon flashing into the small room, it was in time to witness a brief glimpse from Mono as he stalled at a crumbling gap in the walls base. Then he was gone, vanished into the crevice to who the hell knew where. Typical! “Mono! You little—” He sputtered, clasping his face. He shimmered to the opening already knelt, searching for indication of where this went. The building had definite dimensions, but a crack could lead outside. He feared the child was very likely in a flighty mood.

“If you become lost or hurt, I won’t come find you. Child? Mono! Come here!” The walls vibrated with his agitation. Difficult, stubborn, poor sport of a fool. “Do you hear me? Come out now, or I will leave.” No indication, and the transmission was faint. Somewhere in the vicinity, but no specifics from where the child sought shelter. And he was not going to dig the child out from rotten plaster or tinder.

The Thin man was tempted to kick the wall, or something else. Instead, he spun away and abandoned the entire situation. “So be it,” he announced. Taking leisurely strides through the corridor, and to the back entry they initially entered through. No sign or sound of the child, as anticipated. However, he did pick up traces of the transmission frequency. From somewhere….

He set his hand on the door's handle and cast a view back. From a closet in the corridor, the faint movement of something whisked out of view.

“Mono,” the Thin Man rumbled, with barely restrained irritation. “I won’t speek again. You. Come here.” No hint of movement, and of course not a sound. “Last warning. Either you come here, or I leave.” He inched the door latch down.

At last, the boy barreled into view. Upon spying how close the Thin Man was to departing, he hurried his steps. A different hat adorned his head, and it covered his eyes as he caught up. Once Mono was close enough to peer up, the Thin Man speculated his face was flushed, though he doubted it was from crying.

“Better.” Easing away from the door, he strayed closer to the child, steps passive on the hard floor. “Now. No more scout. No play. This is rest.” Mono didn’t respond, aside from track his movement with acute precision and take a step backwards. “No run. Mono! Look! Mono….” He leaned down and held his hands out. The child twisted away, spinning round-and-around as he retreated a meter. This was too much effort for an essential that should not be contested with so fiercely. The Thin Man was losing resolve, and it was reflected in the distortions of his outline. “For the last time, c̶̝̈o̸͎̒m̷̬͝é̸͈ ̷̪̊h̷̝͝e̶͉̓r̸̲̄ẹ̵͐.” Internally, he was counting.

Mono glanced to the corridor, perhaps gauging if it was possible to reach the stairs, or the notch in the wall as before. In short, he relented and padded over to the Thin Man in a jaded fashion, raising his arms. The Thin Man plucked him up and fitted the child onto his forearm, holding one hand curled around his waist.

“This is why you are always lagging,” he chided, while clicking back through the corridor. “How are you to find food, if you can’t stand on your own feet?”

“Fhh.”

The Thin Man returned to the ratty recliner and took a seat. He tried readjusting the child, but the spry boy kicked away and nearly vaulted off the chair. If only the Thin Man didn't have such sharpened reflexes, he managed to snag the boy. Not dissuaded, Mono latched onto the papery thin fabric of the arm rest and attempted to haul himself out of the grip. The Thin Man scowled, and tugged.

“Give me a break.”

“Not.”

The Thin Man was trying to be gentle, and pry the hands off the frayed threads. “Child. Please.” It had been some while since he was forced to contend with the boy’s intolerable clawing, though usually he sought the opposite goal. “Could you stop? And hold still. Child? My word, cease this nonsense!” It was as if the child wanted to dig his way through the decayed fabric of the chair itself. “Child!”

“Safe. NoNo! Look care’ffu. Ne’d!” The next string of speek was incoherent, and sounded more akin to Her speek.

The instant he had Mono’s arms free, he crimped them down and held the child on his lap. His own hat askew, and one visible eye glaring. What was he to do with this boy?

“Not. N’look. T’r danger.”

“There is no need for ‘look’. There is no danger here.”

“N… t’know.” Mono wriggled and tried to kick his legs, but the Thin Man didn’t give him any slack. “Hide. F’monster sss come, t’n run. Hide. B’know saf-err. Hav’n know—”

“Could you shut up and just pretend to rest? Quiet?” the Thin Man pleaded, the former intensity absent. Locking the boy in a closet would be easier, but knowing Mono, he was likely to gnaw a hole through the floor. Or something. “Shut your eyes. Five minutes, that’s all I ask. And I promise, I will let you go.” He knocked the child’s new hat off his head and tried rubbing his neck with a thumb. The child gawked at him, panic evident in his eyes. “Minutes. A few minutes. I will watch.”

For a moment it didn’t seem the boy was receptive to the compromise. He didn’t look affected in the slightest by the soft rubbing on his brow. After a grueling and unyielding stare off, the child allowed his eyes to flutter shut. Not likely under his own agency, they had traveled for some intolerable length, and the only feasibly conclusion would be eventual exhaustion. This always worked.

Mono flashed awake twice, but his tenacity wavered the third time. At last, his consciousness flatlined completely and his head tilted far back. The Thin Man adjusted his hold, so the child was at least inclined, and his head settled on the sofa arm.

In due time but not quickly, the Thin Man was able to relax his grip as Mono’s breathing lulled. He kept a wary hand looped over the chest; it was not normal for the child to uncoil in such a manner. At least he had ceased moving, and was not likely to drop dead in the street. This struggle was becoming a reoccurring nuisance. Another regret of their association, the child’s inability to stall for the barest moment. He was prone to stop and sit for a period in the open wastes, in the middle of a downpour. In the dry recesses of some dwelling, the smaller became a jittery wreck.

That’s all he asked. If the child could stop for a few moments, get off his feet so the adrenalin and survival drive could purge out of his veins. Eventually, he could only crash. That already happened twice, but the Thin Man was able to acquire his charge before some hazard stumbled along. Adrenalin only carried children so far.

Even if the world hated him and wanted him to fail, he was allowed a moment of reprieve. Even for the rarest span of quiet, in the blink of an eye, between his shuddering breaths – the child should be allowed a sliver of an instant to steal back some vigor. If only the child trusted him enough, would believe he couldn’t let anything come near to harming him. Not while he was present.

#little nightmares #mono #the thin man #thin dad #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #the man in the hat #the tall thin man #fanfiction #fanfic #mono just being adorable #thin dad being disgruntled parent that can't get his child to sleep

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grim-faux · 3 years ago

Text

2 _ 4 _ These Roads Know You

First

The televisions always mystified him. Their calls, the demanding, this strange insistence.

………………………… TuNe ThE tRANsmISSion...................……………

When he first had to use them, really test himself with them, it was only a short leap to a nearby device. Always among strong pulls, limited. A room away, perhaps another building; the point being, he usually knew where he was going.

He wasn’t sure where the building was, or where it was the Thin Man kept him. The city was a sea of stretching skyscrapers, some so high they blotted out the sky. He didn't know where they were most times, he only went where the tall thin man guided them. Still, they didn't seem near the shore, when he tested the transmissions draw once more. The television awaited in the back room while he was exploring, as they usually did before the device insisted he respond to its call. Never mind the chance it might burst if he went shooting through the screen. It was habit more than anything.

The device took him to the edge of the city, like he had thought. Wanted. However, it wasn’t the right edge of the city. A horribly familiar place. How long ago was it that they arrived at the terrible city? How long ago was it, that he was cast aside? He was so bad keeping up with the days. None of that was important anyway.

None of it mattered, he reminded himself. Warned, more than anything. You matter. No one else will come save you, and why should they?

This prospect with the television did make him optimistic. It could be a way to get him where he needed to be, close to the city edge. Perhaps beyond. One day, someday, he might be able to escape the reach of the Thin Man.

But not today. Today, he is very tired.

For the billionth time, Mono yawned. The rain did not let up much this day, but it was traversable given some other times he had to brave the weather to escape some hostile area or reach a building of suitable fortitude. It was no easy feat getting into some places that seemed stable, part of the problem being they were stable and had no openings to slip into. He tottered after the tall thin man, uncertain where they were going this hour, he didn’t bother in ask. The Thin Man seemed to know what roads to take, which pathways were safer.

Mono wasn’t much in the right headspace to deviate too much, the air being much colder than usual and him failing to locate something edible to bite into. Maybe some bread, or gummy sweet stuff. He yawned again, and stuck a glower to the back of the Thin Man’s head.

Not for the first time, the man in the hat awoke him with twitching. Mono caught some sleep that was good, didn’t really recall what he was dreaming, but he thinks there was food. Good memories. But the Thin Man had dream haunts, and had a hard time shaking out of them. Mono could get him out of it like the others, but then he was left with the prospect of no one on watch. That wasn’t safe.

Thus, it became his role. He didn’t mind watch, he preferred it to naps. The Thin Man stopped plenty of times that he could take some half sleep between eats. It wasn’t a big worry.

Nonetheless, it felt like they had been wandering forever, scouting through this district of the city. Off and on, he’d see the Viewers blundering around. When there’s enough space for the Viewers to get along, they’re not much of a bother. On occasion, one would plummet from the sky. Mono supposed eventually they just toppled out of a building or somewhere, in their mindless quest to find a television. Though, he did recall seeing a number poised on roofs gazing toward the Signal Tower. He tried not to think of that eerie sight.

Or how hard he insisted to Her that he could make this right. Stupid. Danger. Bad.

How long has it been? It could have been miles and miles, or it could be days? A while back he had to abandon the new pot hat, after it became too heavy for his shoulders and head to carry. It was missed a good deal, for the insulating warmth it offered. He gawked up at the sky, trying to judge the light through the canopy of swirling grays. The pastel haze hadn’t changed. It felt very late.

The Thin Man stopped beneath a wide spanning awning at a building front, the main doors decimated and a fissure forming along the wall beneath. His studious gaze scanned an open stretch of road, to the right. His interest might’ve fallen to a chasm and its unclear begin or end.

Mono braced his arm on the tall figures shin and checked the collapse within the buildings entrance. From where he was poised, he couldn’t see much through the devastation – an archway or something, the interior was probably just as bad. He wondered if there was a way through, without a teleport. It would be hard, and it would hurt.

When the figure shifted, Mono leaned back and resumed following. Along the path a decorative wall structure he might be tempted to climb over, forced him to hike around. If the Thin Man didn’t like obstacles, he flashed out and the air surged. It didn’t hurt quite like it used to, but he was not usually near the man in the hat when he did those things. It still placed him a ways back, and he had to hasten his pace to catch up. Sometimes the Thin Man would glance over and check where he was, but Mono was doing well. They stopped enough times that he could get his bearings. He was no worse than before.

Nonetheless, his legs were very achy from going so far, and he was leaning more and more on things or against solid walls or poles that were not the Thin Man. He had yet to see a place that he could get into to escape the rain, and an ugly tightness crept into his chest. Some buildings he might have the ability to scale loomed beside the jagged road, but it needed more dexterity and energy than he was equipped to relinquish at current.

A gutter leading to a cracked window frame, a sequence of boxes that sat beside a grungy chain-link fence, or a doorway with a large dumpster jammed in front of it - all appealing points for search and see, but he was barely able to stay upright. He needed to save energy for flee, because it never mattered how tired he was or how brief the rest, something would always find and chase.

The street splint three ways, one road immediately slashed from course due to a cataclysmic graze through the asphalt and a sequence of shattered buildings; only the memory of walls remained. The Thin Man stayed on the sidewalk and took the right, briefly, his head tilted to examine the skyline.

Mono leaned on the side of a building he was skimming along, and gave his location a short examination. Straight looked clear. There was no guarantee it would have more prospects for shelter, no more than to venture through the right side. The open and wide road seemed very daunting and impossible. A toppled mailbox sat to the edge of the sidewalk, its door ripped off. It wasn’t his first choice, but he was burnt-out on perusing options that didn’t exist. He was not going to make it another step, let alone run.

It would be okay. He just needed to rest his eyes and stop moving. The danger wouldn’t find him here. A little bit of time to rest his weary limbs.

Cautious as ever, he gave the sides of the bent exterior a go over, before he crawled into the hollowed box. He bundled up in his soaked coat on the damp and rusted floor, one eye open. The faint tapping of rain gentle and pleasant on his ears. The diluted roll of static began fading, and he realized how inured to it he was. It would only be for a while. The Thin Man would be annoyed, again.... But he can go do something else for a while. Mono would think of nothing and have a rest.

Unless something slinked by and he was forced out. He wouldn’t argue with that.

He shut his eyes and listened to the air, whistling over the sharp edge of the casket. The saturated curb burbled, while the little rivers twittered and rolled through the debris on the road. He focused on the things far out there, the things he wouldn’t be able to see. He had to listen and stay vigilant, do half sleep. The mailbox was a trap with a broken door.

Barely an interlude expired and he opened his eyes. Was it the scent or the threading static? The delicate prattle of rain on the metal hull vanished, and Mono curled his hands into fists. Mad. He was going to be mad. Can’t follow. Sleep. Hurt sleep.

He scooted further into the back of the mailbox and nibbled on his bandage.

“Are you hurt?” the voice hummed, carefully. “Tired?”

Not hurt. Not really hurt. Hurt sleep.

Mono took a deep breath on the soured metal and exhaled, working studiously to control his heart rate. He thinks he mumbled something, but even he didn’t have a grasp of what. He almost wished they stayed longer at one of the shops, but no foods. And the man in the hat was bad at watch.

The static sizzled and fabric shifted. The voice was much closer now. “Stop? Rest?”

“Mhm.” He was stop, and he was rest.

“Come out? Come?”

No. He hissed a little and tucked deeper into the little hovel, but he was already pressed back as far as physically possible. It did occur to him that nothing was really going to stop the Thin Man from snatching him out by, say his arm or a leg. He flinched as the hands descended into view on the sidewalk outside.

“Mono. Hey.”

He blinked, blearily. It was time the Thin Man go. Mono didn’t understand. He couldn’t follow, he was going to stay. It was done. The Thin Man leaves, and then later finds. It is what the Thin Man does.

“Y'leave,” he murmured.

An exasperated sigh. “No. No leave. You come.” The pause held out briefly, and he expected to be torn out. A sad little shadow. “Stay with. Keep.”

It took a moment for Mono to process the word. Stole. Keep. He pulled his arms up under his head and tried to calm down. Does the Thin Man keep him? Was okay? In take? He could only see the waiting hands. Standing would be hard.

“Cold hurt.” Once more, the Thin Man offered.

Hesitantly, Mono uncurled and crawled out of the mailbox. He was right, it was hard to move on his frigid joints after the short lapse. The mailbox was an icebox, and everything of Mono was stiff from his nose to his toes. Once he had emerged fully, the Thin Man didn’t budge. He was bent low, patiently waiting like a statue.

Mono tried to pull himself up more on his legs as he inched forward, but he didn’t quite make it. The Thin Man slipped his hands forward before he could crash into the sidewalk. He needed rest. He needed stop. The hands folded around his icy heap of limbs, and he didn’t protest at the finger nudging into his back.

“If need rest, should tell.”

A little noise slipped from Mono’s throat, but he didn’t know if it was a whine or bliss. The Thin Man stole him, and that was okay. The little jitters still worked through his body, but it would be okay. The reassuring caress on his back withdrew, and the slight weightlessness settled in his limbs as the Thin Man rose. The hands cupped tighter around him as he fussed and twisted. He wanted to see. He was so frustrated he nipped at a finger, not really sizing up the consequences. No ill events came of it, aside from making it a little more challenging to get himself situated.

Eventually the Thin Man conceded to the withering child, and settled to hold Mono steady within his hands and keep him close to his chest, in case the boy took a tumble. He resumed walking, electing the direction he had been along prior before he lost connection with Mono.

Once the child could peer out, he became placid. Gaze solid and unwavering, the meager shaking evaporated instantly. “Tol….”

He was uncertain what to say on that; aside from reflect how cumbersome it was to step through doorways. At least the child looked much better than when he was, crammed inside the mailbox.

“I supposed, yes. I am.” One of these structures should have the base essentials that would be crucial, but for—

A Viewer gave an agonized shrill before colliding with a rooftop, across the road.

—a space relatively sparse of the dangers the Viewers posed, among other threats that would keep the child wary. Utilizing a television would deliver them to a more placid territory of the city, if not so far gone entirely by otherworldly erosion. He could fortify a building with essential amenities, but he didn’t want to be out of commission for an unknown period of time and alarm the already haggard child.

Mono fidgeted around between his palms, trying to find more room and he supposed see the ground. “Careful.” It wasn’t as if he was never cautious with his steps, but the boy was more tipsy and bold than typical. He was a little surprised the child was patting at his thumb.

“Like. Good. T'is n'happy,” he rasped.

The child was very alert now, a stark contrast to prior. His bright eyes skimmed up the walls of nearby buildings, the sidewalk sweeping away below. The little face kept flicking to his, but the expression was far from terror or panic. It was elation – as if he was trying to convey something that couldn’t form into verbal expression.

Naturally, Mono had been high and higher still, far above creaky floors or roads. However, never instilled with the delight of being allowed to soak in his surroundings, let alone the leisure pause to look without the impending urgency to relocate now. Never before with assured safety, only within the prospect of reach a destination and quickly. Most often, dangers lurked blow, or the knowledge lurked in the subconscious that a faulty plank would spell pain or dash his body to pieces. The sensation of protection from these threats was something entirely foreign.

“Nunh get. Hn… no hurt.” Then he became very still and quiet, curled up in his coat and satisfied to behold from this bizarre vantage. Internalize this new thrill of detachment from threats. Of something akin to safety.

The Thin Man tipped his head. “Are you all right?”

“Not. It—it’s… bigger,” he mumbled, captivated. Then, a little quietly, “Faster?”

Honestly, that almost made him chuckle. “No. This is fine. It would not be safe, to you.” Mono turned his face back to him, and he’s endeared by the look of disappointment. That was much better. “Don’t look that way. Someday, I might have to go fast, and you won’t like it.”

Mono lit up. “Practice?”

He looked away, pretending to consider. “No….” The Thin Man waited for Mono to huff and whip away, for some sulking, before he smirked broadly. Maybe they could practice at a later date, when the child was in better health.

For the now, he would keep him out of the rain and find a place where they could put up for a short while. And try to make the child feel solid and secure, give him the chance for some recuperation out of the hazards always seeking. It was a trial to coax the child out of the rickety little shelter, but he supposed that's how children were. Perhaps it was better Mono didn't shed off the skittishness entirely, but he held out hope that eventually the smaller would approach him when he was in dire need. He couldn't really say, these habits remained engrained into his survival.

#little nightmares #little nightmares fanfic #little nightmares fanfiction #mono #the thin man #thin dad #the man in the hat #the tall thin man #fanfic #fanfiction

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