#soft small child
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orion-archives ¡ 5 months ago
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Mini comic WIP
After another medbay visit, someone feels guilty about Kaon's health problems.
(Don't do dark energon, guys. It makes your offspring have a lot of medical issues.)
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syndrossi ¡ 4 months ago
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As if we weren't spoiled enough with amazing dragon art, @immortalwalnut made this gorgeous painting of Jon's hatchling all grown up and about to ruin someone's day with a smile in his heart.
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blanceyblance ¡ 2 months ago
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*looks around* Can you guys tell me where are you seeing Alpha macho Irep and soft boy Peri?
Because most of the content I see of them is just little shit/annoying clingy loser Irep and bitchy sassy neurotic mess Peri.
And there is only like 70 works for that ship in ao3 and most is them is co parenting Dev or them being bitter exes.
Honestly, why are we now shaming creators when the ones that write the "problematic yaoi tropes" are in the minority?
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canisalbus ¡ 1 year ago
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Machete reminds me so much of my silken windhound! Same sad lost energy, Must be a white sighthound thing.
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that-foul-legacy-lover ¡ 2 months ago
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Pst quick question; did you have an image in mind when writing For foil legacy by chance? Was curious if there was any art of him floating around c:
ooh that's an interesting question, i'll see if i can explain!!
of course i use the in-game model of Foul Legacy as a base reference, and the differences are mostly minor things that only i really care about but they are still IMPORTANT. my Foul Legacy has pretty, sparkly wings instead of cape, but they've got the same flowing silky texture that they almost seem like a cape. they CAN act as fins underwater if needed, although they're also extremely delicate when waterlogged and need to be treated with utmost care. in all the time he's been with you, he's only torn his wings once, and the shriek of agony he let you completely wrenched your heart in two. you took the next few days off of work to care for him, Legacy's head staying in your lap or buried against your shoulder at almost all times as the pain slowly faded
he's also fluffier when i imagine him, perfect for holding and snuggling. his fur is very poofy and soft and when he curls up a certain way he looks like a ginger and lilac dandelion. it's especially prevalent in the winter when the weather is cold, the fluff keeping him warm as he romps around in the few snowfalls you have each year and curls up inside around you whenever it pours down freezing rain. Legacy purrs and lightly pushes you until you sit, flopping on top of you and nuzzling with a deep, content croon as the rain taps the roof of your house in a steady rhythm
Legacy's got claws, but did you also know that he has paw pads!! in my world he has toebeans on his palms and fingertips, faint lilac ones that squish when you poke them, and he always lets out a surprised chitter when you do. they're to help him grasp and knead against blankets, pillows, and your legs- the latter done with caution and care so he doesn't tear through your skin. you compare him to a cat. a big, armored, Abyssal cat, and it's quite an apt description from the way he bumps against you and nibbles at your fingers and curls around your body and trills drowsily with happiness
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fromtheseventhhell ¡ 10 months ago
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It's crazy how everything about Arya gets people upset cause why do people hate (and actively try to deny the fact) that Arya likes lemon cakes? 😭
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jamethinks ¡ 2 months ago
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So, regarding my previous post: the 3 cats Nightfall has are based on each of the Forgers (not on purpose)
Kot is the adult male Siberian weighing in at about 9kg. His exact age is unknown since she had him since he was an adult. It is known that he is a bit older (notably older than Anya). She got him as a kid, and to avoid talking about her backstory, let's just say at some point she went back to Russia for him. Because of his age, he's not as energetic as most Siberians but definitely more energetic than a normal cat. He's got bone problems and has to take lots of meds.
He's the Loid of the cat team. Very serious, observant, and has no time for Koshka's shit. Because he was alone for so long, he actually prefers solitude. Finding a nice high place to perch up on and watch over everything. He's not openly affectionate and only prefers to cuddle with Fiona. He is a very patient cat though making him the perfect companion for Anya. She loves to pick this big heavy cat up and walk around with him and he just sits there with a grumpy face and everyone is worried she's annoying him but he's actually just chilling and kinda likes her.
The next is Kit. Kit is a purebred Sphynx that Fiona got from a gang of traffickers. It was a bunch of these chicken cats that they were trying to take to the use to sell to breeders and skinners. She rescued all and decided to keep one. Kit is very very affectionate and snuggly. He loves cuddling with Fiona at night and following her around during the day. Whenever she's not around her berries himself in Kot's fur and sleeps right there. He's not very suited for the eternal Ostanian fall so he has to be kept properly warm and is very pampered.
He's obviously the Yor parallel. Initially seen as weird and unusual, most people prefer to avoid him, and some even scream and run. In reality, he's actually the sweetest, most gentle cat of the bunch. Again, he is super affectionate and very extroverted. He's very social and warms up to the Forgers immediately. He even gets along with Bond loving to really get caught up in the big dogs endless fluff. Yor at first was creeper out by him but ended really warming up to him, and he spends most of his time there just following her around and accepting so many pets.
Koshka is the baby. Nightfall got her from the old man spy. He saw how sad she was because Twilight was too busy with Operation Strix and thought she just needed a baby for herself and that she did. Koshka is extremely energetic, like constantly bursting with energy. Stuck in an eternal state of zoomies. She's actually albino with a thick white coat, blue eyes, and partial deafness. She was born on some breeding farm and deemed defective and was set to be put down before old man spy got his hands on her. She's only around 6-9 months, so really a baby.
She's again meant to parallel Anya, I think he description alone shows why. Interestingly, though, she's Loid's favorite. He never liked cats because he thought they were mean and very solitary animals. He liked dogs because they're more social and just seemed more useful. Koshka absolutely broke his brain with her very dog like personality. She was super clingy and nagish just like Bond and would actually start climbing him if he didn't tend to her in time. She would be bolting back and forth through the house, jumping all over the furniture like an energetic puppy. At first, Loid found it annoying, but it also felt so familiar. Because she's so young, she hasn't been trained, so he enjoys dealing with this unpredictable little kitten.
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tiberius-kirks ¡ 11 months ago
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I FINISHED KNITTING MY HAT it is awful and somehow so so small that it barely fits on my head and starts slipping upward after 30 seconds but it is the third thing I have ever knitted and I'm kind of proud of myself
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nejackdaw ¡ 3 months ago
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Thinking about Celann and his ever present grief at the life he could have had, he and his wife and (he always hoped) their daughter. A life where he was a father--he'd hardly ever wanted anything more than that. So full of love he was ready to burst and needed somewhere to put it, wanted a life with his favorite girls.
Thinking about how the ever present desire haunts him no matter how deep he buried it. It keeps coming back, relentlessly, this anguish that he threw it all away. He could have had exactly what he wanted and he was stupid enough to abandon it all, and for what? Because he was upset? But then he always remembers how hollow he felt after the incident, like if you rapped him with a knuckle you'd hear he was just a shell. He forgives himself, then, remembers how wrong everything felt, and he thinks about all the time he spent desperately trying to make everything feel right again.
Remembers when he realized he was the problem, what needed to be fixed. Removed.
He abandoned the life he had and every dream he'd ever held close because he wasn't him anymore. Celann would never have killed anyone, would never have done... that. He was some other Celann, different, trying to make himself fit in the life of a man that no longer existed. And so he left.
And he has no right to ache so badly at the thought of what he gave up, no right to ache at the loss of a family (of two families, but he starts thinking that and breaks every time, so he's gotten good at simply skipping over the thought) when he was a killer--an adept one, a practiced one--that could mangle and maul and kill and do it again and again. What right does he have to still want that happy little dream?
But the dream is a ghost and it haunts him, is there every time he's out on a supply run and sees kids playing around the marketplace, sees women cradling infants and fathers carrying sons on their shoulders. (He reminds himself of the blood on his hands, is scared he might stain them with it if he reaches out to touch them.) It's there when he has a bag and his axe hanging from his hips and finds a girl crying for her mother, lost and separated, jostled by the crowd.
It's there as he calms her, kneeling on wet and gritty stone, hovering between her and the flow of the crowd so they give her space. He lifts her and holds her against his side with one arm and something in him weeps, feels something soft in him as her tiny weight settles and she starts chattering at him about the groceries she and her mother came to buy.
They weave their way through the marketplace as they help each other--she tells him where he can find what he needs, and he silently curses the nords and their height as he tries to peer over shoulders to catch a glimpse of the woman she described--and that cold weight that's usually settled in his chest, his grief and remorse, lightens with every step. She's warm through his sweater and splutters indignantly every time the ever changing wind blows her brown hair into her mouth and he laughs, quiet and warm.
They check places she's already been, in case her mother doubled back looking for her, and take detours so Celann can fumble to place newly acquired groceries in the bag beneath her, unwilling to hold her over the side with his axe and equally unwilling to put her down, awkwardly shifting her weight as she laughs at him. He's silly for buying such expensive things, she tells him, and he light heartedly tells her Skyrim is silly for not having the things he used to use in High Rock. The revelation he hasn't always lived in Skyrim excites her to no end, and the rest of the trip is a Q&A of the sort only a small child can provide.
He feels warm inside, in his chest, where usually he feels vaguely cold at best, and for a moment he's reluctant to relinquish her when they finally find her mother, guided by the sounds of panicked calls of her name. There's a fond sadness as he sets her down on the stones again, and the woman looks at him oddly for a moment before the look turns knowing, though he's sure the conclusion she reached is slightly off.
She quietly asks if her daughter reminds him of her. He stands there silently for a moment, looking down at the little girl as she rifles through the things her mother's found.
He tells her yes.
#celann#fucking girldad#guy who wants small house white picket fence and 2.5 kids forced to become a murderer#cant live with the guilt and horror and becomes a man he cannot recognize in the mirror more at 6#me thinking about this last night: he uses Adult Privileges to be tall and look out over the crowd#me writing this: his short ass cant see over everyone else#its fine enough when hes just in the fort like usual but then theres a crowd and hes like goddammit#anyway he has to go get his fancy ingredients because NO you CAN use that but it doesnt TASTE RIGHT#and so he has been banished to specifically get his own goddamn groceries#celann: im a cold blooded killer and i can never atone for the atrocities i have committed. i am incapable of good#also celann: 💞💞💞😊😊😊#the loss of self after the incident really fucked him up he doesnt know who he is#he keeps trying to categorize himself and neatly file himself away but the fact remains#he is both the old celann and a new one simultaneously#however he feels tainted by his actions and thinks of the Before as like a purer time and he is not a pure man#so CLEARLY he is not AT ALL the old celann and those good traits are gone#anyway he goes soft when theres kids just absolutely melts#like the only guy in the dg that can be trusted to watch a small child#also in case it wasnt clear when the mother akss 'does she remind you of her' shes assuming his daughter is dead#shes asking if her daughter reminds him of his own#delivering your typical celann angst and remembering when i said i should write happy things for him#unfortunately this has not happened yet the happy things just happen in my mind
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paul-simon-juggling ¡ 1 year ago
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Tonight I bring you a very Soft audio of Paul singing Happy Birthday to (based on context I'm assuming) one of these kids at the Bread & Roses Music Festival Concert, October 3rd, 1981. The crowd joins in pretty quickly so we unfortunately don't have a full "Paul Sings Happy Birthday audio" (as far as I know??) because that would be really cool. A super wholesome listen nonetheless!
The Youtube channel that has the remainder of this performance uploaded describes it as a setlist of 11 songs yet they had only uploaded 10. So I did some digging and yeah, turns out this mysterious 11th song he performed was "Happy Birthday" and I'm not even mad about it.
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i-only-write-in-purple-ink ¡ 2 years ago
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Did nothing but read Severitus fics all weekend (a Harry Potter AU where Snape is Harry's father/guardian). Can't get enough of that sweet sweet angst :'D
Shoutout to Buried Memories by BellaBix in particular, it's very very good!
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grim-faux ¡ 11 months ago
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3 _ 45 _ The Trick and the Tricked
First – An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City
Trigger Warning for disturbing themes and images and some graphic descriptions. I know this is Little Nightmares, but sometimes these chapters get too wholesome I don't want people forgetting what series this is.
On the frumpy couch draped a long limbed and long bodied shape, the head tilted far back with the hat askew and low over the brow. Throughout the small living space extending from the inert shape, the air buzzed gently, a lone standing lamp in one corner – partially bent in the center – flashed periodically. Boxes and other castoffs such as clothing and collapsed erosion from the ceiling, coated the floor in a fine archeological curiosity of a past history. The archway of the distant hall awaited silent and dim, while a mischievous breeze skittered through a distant room somewhere. If not for the lanky figure sprawled on the couch this abode would be no different from the winding roads and prolific buildings brimming throughout the Pale City; deserted and forgotten.
However, abandoned on the floor huddled one lone cushion. The grungy cushion separated from its home beside the couch's base and waddled across the floor. That is, until it flopped forward, and the child tumbled over it.
It was great joy for Mono to climb onto the back of the cushion, snare it by a corner (or two) and try to pull the cushion up and over, all while he stood on it. Coupled with the weird distortions the Thin Man caused with his twitching, it was almost as if the cushion had a will of its own. Though it didn’t. Where or which way the cushion would flip was always a surprise, each time he tried to anticipate when he’d lose his balance and try catching himself before plopping onto his backside. Thus far, he was having a difficult time with that objective. This was all a lot of coordination and balance, a game he couldn't afford to avoid.
For Mono under his latest hat, the room is very dark, it was dark even when he managed to find his way back to the isolated dwelling a while ago. Some of the windows from other residents revealed the dark was ever present, thus quiet and dark time when the lampposts blazed brightest in the murk. This didn’t mean Mono could curl up in his room, since the tall thin man was already doing the rest. That was annoying and alarming to come back to, but nothing stopped the Thin Man from doing whatever he wanted to do. But the Thin Man did look so out of it when Mono caught him - the tall man should know better than run away from Mono when keep each other was the best. Then again, he didn't keep the bird.
She always liked when he caught something. This Mono knew, because they always had fights. When the Thin Man knew everything, then stuff like birds made him remember the girl. He knew Mono had Her and She was for a while his, and that upset the man and his hat. Even if he never did speek about Her to Mono, that didn't mean the Thin Man wasn't think about it. Mono tried not to think about any of that while he had his Thin Man.
Instead, he focused on other activities. Such as fighting the couch pillow. It wasn’t as great as the cushy pillows from the stores, but it flopped around and he could haul it through to the other rooms and across the small living space. He liked pretending the Thin Man was watching and impressed with Mono's power and skill. He always wanted Mono to do more. So, with mighty Mono strength he would lift the stiff cushion and hurl it a foot or something, and lunge at the stiff fiber to bite and kick. And headbutted it. Hard.
When he tumbled a little closer to the Thin Man’s place, Mono uncoiled himself and shuffled over to the statue figure. With a flash of his hand, he swung out an arm and smacked one long leg. And much faster, he turned coattail and zipped toward the corridor and hid beside the crooked edge.
Concealed by the corner of the wall, he fixed his hat and peeked out, checking for flicker of the light or a bristle in the static tinge soaked into the room. Nothing.
Zilch response.
That made Mono feel somewhat better, for some reason. The man in the hat was quiet. Mono made certain the rooms remained empty and untouched. Dangers were ever lurking, but Mono was amazing. He never let his guard down. When the Thin Man did rest, the Mono was watch. And he was best at it.
During the quiet spans between scouting, he partook in another activity that was becoming a steady recurrence. Mono would stick to one room and copy mark symbols from a book, onto one of the walls or floor. He only did a few symbols that didn’t need much turns or curves, and like the Thin Man, he liked to add some pictures. To tell his own sort of story. It was all mostly of scenery he recognized – trees and a field of grass, or the big water. And a door. Sometimes he carved out the places he liked to hide, like a broken desk or a little hole in the wall, and added the symbols to make work where this was. Birds would go into the symbol marks too, or what he decided would be bird marks. And a box. And the hallway, with the chair patiently waiting at the very end.
It would be nice if he could draw an opening in the wall and climb into that, whenever he needed one. No televisions or turning, or charred glass bursting at his back. The only time holes could be made in walls was when the boards could be snapped off, or some Viewer or another monster (with a thunder stick) put the hole there. It was better if kids made their own holes, but kids couldn’t do a lot of things that the monsters could.
Like shriek for no reason.
Speek of monsters and hiding, somewhere in his musing, Mono wandered from his speek marking and got into a stealth game! He hid behind corners, or under the dark spaces of furniture. When he abandoned the stuffy shadows completely, it was to emerge into the musty room on delicate feet. He padded among the sturdiest patches of the ruined floor, evading splintered wood or brittle scraps of papers. There was a special skill of skipping carefully and not shredding the feet pads on splinters or whatever else was ground into the timber. He practiced dashing between draperies of murk along the walls and skidded into the inky recesses beneath furniture, practicing holding his breath and not letting his nose tingle with the dust kicked up. It was a habit to retreat backwards on his hands and feet, then stare out into the room for any trace of threat. Listen for any hushed snuffling. Feel the air around his ears as a large shape hurtled with violent intent, seeking the children that sought to stay undetected despite their best efforts.
Sometimes monsters knew for no good reason. It wasn't fair.
Though he was not hiding from anything really, it was good to always know what he could manage while rooms brewed with passive and empty. Disjointed horrors came rooting around during the worst of times, and practiced kept kids from making the dumbest mistakes. Some kids got too scared to run, or couldn’t leap from windows to grab something. He’d seen a lot of kids twisted into bloody ravels.
He made a race from one room into the next, then squeezed up beneath a chair. The dwelling remained void of sounds, aside from his own heartbeat and muffled breathing beneath the brim of his hat.
Nothing lumbered about or bellowed, no abominable intruder crashed into the room. He sheltered from the air and the ugly blotches twisting across the walls. A smolder of pride burned in his chest, despite how inane the whole play act scenario was. He was so wily with escape and disappear, he could practically make himself vanish form the air itself. That skill kept him away from cages. Everything he did was only for escape, and watch others get caught. 
The fire leapt around them. One-by-one, each kid got snared up. He didn't look back.
He scooted from beneath the chair, staying low and creeping on airy steps. With extreme care, he tested his weight on each floorboard. He wanted to make it to the doorway without a creak, but the warped boards made that feat a near impossibility. He inched to the hallway, first perching by the doorframe and checking for movement through the familiar fringes. The cap slipped some over his brow but didn’t bother his vision too much. Crouched low, he prowled into the corridor and slipped along the wall, then upon reaching the next open doorway he coiled down and listened for out of place noises.
Sometimes he thought about the other children. The one’s that chased. Being extra cautious was a new priority on his errand list. So many questions, no answers. Just angry faces and chase.
With a shiver, Mono shook his head. He stood up in the bathroom and abandoned the area, rushing through the corridor and back to the big room. The cushion waiting there received a full tackle, and Mono learned he could hold the lumpy sides and do a barrel roll across the dingy piece of carpet. For a while he fought the cushion, trying to fold it over and sit on it.
One of the plush toys lay on the other side of the room, dumped behind a crate. He abandoned the cushion to dash over and grab the thing. He pulled the floppy animal out and sat with it, giving it a strict scrutiny – arms, head, chest, legs – he examined ever loose thread, and its frayed seams.
“Hurt?” he posed, to the mute, inanimate, and very unalive creature. “Wh’rr hurt?” The stuffed toy didn’t complain when he checked its muzzle. He could pull it apart, that wouldn’t matter to it one bit. On the other hand, Mono would not like being pulled apart. He was still trying to work out how to explain soft to the Thin Man. That was important. The man and his hat didn't understand how soft Mono was, and how it upset him the way the Thin Man pried at his arms and squished his chest. Mono was careful while examining the animal plush. Except when he coiled his arms around it and squeezed. "Shh... shh. Non'that. Ya'ok."
The tall thin man had two modes. Annoyed and grumpy. Mono hoped something would eventually cheer up the man in the hat, but waiting for something never accomplished much. Now, Mono wasn’t sure if it would be okay to stop for rest, because the Thin Man went nutty when he did something different. It was hard to figure what the Thin Man wanted. He wanted Mono to do powers, or make speek, and sometimes looked at Mono so closely it made his bones tingle. And despite always grabbing and looking at Mono, he always looked grumpy about something. This had something to do with the other kids, Mono was certain. They were not Mono.
Mono left the plush propped by the wall and hidden by the crate. He snuck to the far side of the couch and climbed onto the center cushion, where the Thin Man’s arm sagged. One of the smoke sticks dangled between his fingers, a faint wispy trail wound away from its end. He glared at the innocent vapor through the gloom, shoulders cinched beneath the hat and his fists in a knot on the gritty fiber of the couch.
Creeping a little closer to the Thin Man’s wrist, Mono griped at the dingy fabric of the seat cushion with his toes, to keep himself from somersaulting forward. He never got a good look at them while the things were lit, the Thin Man was always busy eating them. The Thin Man did speek that this was not food, but he always gnawed on the burning things. Staring at the smoldering tip, it really didn’t look like food. He was close enough, and with the contrast of the drafty room, he could detect how warm the stick was. Is that what made the Thin Man warm?
Mono stuck his tongue against the end the Thin Man always bit—
The fingers twitched, and Mono recoiled to the base of the couch’s backside. He curled down into the crease, hands latched over his cap and knees barred around his face. For several seconds he hunkered down, waiting for anything, braced for the worst. However, nothing happened.
Uncoiling ever so slowly, he craned his head up and checked for other signs. The Thin Man looked detached and hushed, the sharp angles of his outline vibrating.
“Ar’wake?” Mono whispered. He inched closer to the tall thin man and pushed against his knee. No response. It didn’t look like the Thin Man shut his eyes, but Mono didn’t really think he shut his own eyes when he did half sleep. He couldn’t be sure. The Thin Man was different, anyway.
Despite his uncertainty, Mono shook out of the defensive bubble and stood by the Thin Man’s leg. He planted his hands on the stiff slacks and perched, watching the face intently. The static curled through the room calm, no reaction comes from the Thin Man. Mono tried to decide how long the Thin Man was rest, but the tall thin man was already out when he found him. It wouldn’t matter either, the Thin Man might have dream haunts or just wake when he felt like it.
Satisfied by the lack of any reaction, Mono put his weight on his arms and clambered onto the Thin Man’s lap. He scooted in close to the tol man and tucked his arms against his chest, then could nestle against the Thin Man’s tummy and listen for the static rustling. His hat bent awkwardly against his ear, but he was used to that. Warmth, but no rest. Someone had to be watch. As always, the task was left to Mono. He could be comfortable for a while, and have together; even if it was not real. It wasn’t really fake, either. It was important for Mono.
Skittery and off creaking did draw Mono from his quiet musings and calm. Mostly the walls groaning, a draft slicing through the distant window. He set focus on the main corridor, where something unspeakable would enter with bellowing and flailing arms. Sighing, he pressed his face into the edge of the jacket and kept one eye open, needle point attention directed on all of their surroundings.
She... the Six. The time with her reminded him about stuff that happened before the Thin Man, when he packed with other kids. Real pack. Not what he did with the Thin Man. That was forever ago and somehow felt much further away, even when he found Her again. She tried to throw him away once, but the Thin Man was there… he didn’t remember much before Her, and sort of forgot about her when he had the Thin Man. His head was foggy about everything he did to steal her back – he remembered the Tower, and doors. The light was bright and things floated around, but not Mono. Mono fell.
He tightened up into his coat more, and thought about the bird. Well, not the bird. The Thin Man took him from that place, and put him in another. He gave him a box to rip apart, and it had the food stuff inside. The Thin Man left the way he always did, and Mono had to go look for him again. Some other things happened. Another monster different from the Viewers and wandering through a building. Mono tricked it. He was good at tricks. He was getting better at catching birds. He was not good with keeping friends, though. At least he could be with the Thin Man sometimes. Thanks to Mono, the Thin Man stayed safe. It was a full time busy, but it made important.
Eventual. That was something the Thin Man always made story about. The event'eels. He always talked about the place where Mono would be, and there would be good stuff and friends. Lots of other children.
But he didn’t want other children or good stuff. The best was when he had his Thin Man, and when he was happy to be around Mono. At the same time, the creeping sense tinkled the back of his thoughts, reminding him that this wasn’t forever. Like all the others, the Thin Man had to go away too. Would he go back to the Tower and wait for some other kid to sum’en him? Maybe the Thin Man would just get bored with Mono and go stay with the other children, even if they didn’t like the tall man or his hat. He didn't understand anything about the Thin Man. except the keep children and watch them. That was what all the scrawled pictures of the silhouette and the hat meant, the children saw the Thin Man.
The edge of the city was still out there. It had a beginning, there had to be border somewhere. If it wasn’t a myth. It had been forever since he saw anything other than the tall spire in the distance, observing the ruined world it presided over. Or any other sort of landmark that to suggest a region beyond city roads and crowding skyrises existed. One day – not today but someday – he would try again to hurt the Tower. Then, the city might crumble away like the glitching children he tried to hug. Then, he wasn’t for sure but the idea did creep into him, if the Tower was tricked, it would never know where he would go, where he would be. It would all stop.
Maybe he would escape to the edge of the city and the open forests beyond the towering buildings. Forests and thick trees, like in the books he flipped through. Forests had animals, and biggest scary animals. The Hunters forests was very dangerous, what if all forests had big Hunters with thunder sticks and they fought the largest beasts? He barely got away from one Hunter. If not for….
Mono had strange ideas when it was quiet. His head always like to wander and plan. Someday….
He sniffled and pried himself away from the warmth of the Thin Man’s coat. He scrambled off the couch and dashed to the entrance of the corridor. He huddled by the wall, plucking debris out of his coattail. Not long following the retreat, the static on the air hummed. He plucked his head up and fixed his hat, when the Thin Man began to shift. The bent standing lamp flickered, as the tall thin man gave the room a short examination; he looked at the book left on the cushion beside him, before drawing his hand with the smoke stick wedged there, up to his face. The eyes beneath the hats sheltered rim gleamed as the orange ember blazed. It was always so neat the way the Thin Man did that.
No dream haunts. He would be in a good mood.
Mono left the shelter of the threshold and returned to the Thin Man. He ventured over to the long legs and patted the Thin Man on the shin, then turned and tottered off. Coattail flashing and legs whirling. He did debate taking a rest first, but it was important to do a scout through the lower stories; check for foods, see what the Viewers would be up to. Deal with them, too. A kids work was never done.
It’s the usual sort of hassle to haul something, in this case a large pot from the kitchen, to the entry. Even harder, pulling the door shut from the outside. But he has a solid scheme for getting the door secured and in order, allowing him to start off without alerting anything hazardous lurking around.
The rickety groaned in greeting around him. Some of the doors along the hall hung open, and the wind within windows spat at his passenger. No other sounds breached the symphony of the building, only the ruin of the walls ached by the wind and the rains sending rivers of water cascading down the walls. He reached the corridors turn and crept up to the corner, checking around the edge before moving out fully. On this side the floor was in worse shape, large gaps in the panels showed the rooms beneath.
A lever for an elevator does nothing when he pulled it. It might have something to do with the loose cable dangling inside the shaft. He has no problem grabbing the stiff cable and letting himself down, the dark of the chute surrounding him like an icy blanket. Through the walls trickled the rains seeking paths within the flanking walls, gurgling like the Flesh brewing between the cracks and surging across the floor. It was always there watching him, laughing at his struggles with getting to Her.
The sing box laughed at him too, didn’t it? He hated that so much. It knew he wanted with everything in his power to get her away, and fix everything that was wrong. Fight the Tower… or save his Six. He chose Six.
By the time he reached the only level with the open gate, his eyes burned with dust. He angled himself on the cable and leapt off, his feet made a satisfying Plop when he touched down. The floor creaked some as he renewed his running, choosing a lit corridor to the right rather the dim hall stretching into obscurity ahead.
Something might lurk that way. Cover first, listen, then scout around. He also made an effort to rub the wetness off his face before he got too carried away. He didn’t need to stumble into anything that would be rooting around for the sounds. There was no such thing as being too careful, just kids stole and never seen again.
From his recollection, these levels were very high up and the only way Mono could reach them was by crawling within the walls and sneaking through some vents. If there had been an easier way up, like a stairway or another elevator that worked, he would have used that. He wasn’t really sure if the window he entered from was attached to these floors and rooms he wandered through, sometimes the buildings leaned into each other and the only way to navigate the city was through the internal bridges of the connected corridors. A lot of times he did navigate the lower floors, and would get stranded from the upper stories because of a collapse or some other travel – such as a formally study rope snapping.
Mono was sure this time would be fine. He knew these corridors very well, and there were no Viewers lurking in the rooms he scouted through. No televisions crooning either, though the buzzing boxes no longer held the same draw over the creatures the way it used to.
Out on the streets, he had watched from a high brick wall as a Viewer trudged past a television sitting on a mound of cracked asphalt. Nothing stopped the Viewer from reaching the screen or the soft chatter of the song tunes, but the adult marched on by.
And came right over to where Mono was perched, and gawked up at him.
It was expected, but the whole thing still unsettled Mono. Which was why he had not chosen a side to hop off the wall. The Thin Man warned him the Viewers had been… zesty. Or testy? Something Eee about the televisions and not looking at them.
Thus far, none of the rooms had produced anything that could interest him. He crept along a countertop, working to get the upper cabinets opened with a thin pipe he plucked up. It was too light to be a weapon, and bent easily when the broken cupboards refused to share their secrets. He’d like to take the metal thing to the Thin Man and see what he would do with it, but he couldn’t climb with it and didn’t have a way to hook it onto his coat ring.
He sat beside the cabinet, fiddling with the ring on his coat and trying to bend the pipe, but something in the doorway caught his attention.
It was a flash of something fast, and he twisted around to face the other entry fully. There was another doorway he had been facing, but that led deeper into the home. It would be bad to get trapped in the dwelling, but he wasn’t worried about the thing he saw.
Taking the pipe along, he rushed to the threshold where he saw the movement. When he reached the edge of the doorframe, he crouched low and watched the large room.
As he knew, it was an other child. The Thin Man must have been looking for them. This realization made Mono’s chest tighten. They must be lost. The kid was sneaking further along the wall, across from where he huddled and watched. The kid snuck and glanced around, but didn’t notice Mono yet. When the other kid was near the doorway at the other wall, Mono inched away from his hide spot crept after them.
The other kid navigated through the next room. Their face skimmed over furniture and a collapsing bookshelf, but none of the furniture gave much hide space. The only way out of the room was a vent close to the floor. Mono didn’t wait for them to disappear into the dark passage, and scurried into the room,
“Psst. Hey.” He didn’t stay in the open, and ducked under a nearby table when the other kid looked back. Now that they faced him, he decided they might be a girl, in a very oversized sweater or some other kid of shirt thick with thick fiber. It might’ve been all the kid wore, since it came down all the way to their knees. He couldn’t tell and that wasn’t important.
“Woo,” the kid called back. She(?) turned and went to the opening of the vent, but stalled there to twist around and beckon to him. Then she slipped into the gloomy passage. The thudding noises hummed back into the room, soft and careful the way children stalked through the hollowed passages to avoid alerting creatures.
Without wasting any more time, Mono scampered to the flue and crawled inside. The pipe clonked the walls when he tried to haul it inside, so he ditched it in favor of catching up. It didn’t take him long to reach the other child in the vent, he was good at skipping on his fingers and keeping his strike fluid. He was always good at flee and hide.
“Hey.” In the faint glow from an open vent above, the other kid glanced back at him. Used the familiar speek.
“Ladder?” he murmured. They didn’t respond, but they didn’t hit him or shove at him away. The kid only turned and kept moving through the vent.
“Him? He cooed. “For him?” They weren’t going the right way to find the tall then man, but she might was still searching around the lower floors. Was she protecting the Thin Man? That was his job!
It was some crawling and narrow turns in the vent, somewhere the walls buckled from a collapse. At some point it would cave in entirely, but he didn’t worry about that. Mono scooted out of the opening after the girl, his hand gunked up by something on the floor.
“Hey.” He tugged on the girls sleeve, and she looked over at him. “Mono.” He placed his palms over his chest, and repeated, “Mono.”
The girl tilted her head, her brows knitted in a strange way. She didn’t say anything, she just scuffed her heel on the floor. Her feet were strange, not like his. “Chi’va’yus cajuh yasstumah?”
It was Mono’s turn to tilt his head. “Cah…chus?”
“Tah muveus Polski?” she whispered.
Mono let his gaze drift away from the girl, his focus roaming the room and its furnishings. He wondered if the girl came here and waited for the Thin Man.
“Seer de chuztam.” She reached for his hand, but Mono was quick to snap his arm away and brush past the girl. He wandered over to the doorframe and crouched there, checking up and down the hall to either side. The doors along the corridor hung open, and from the pale glow of bulbs gleamed a sort of sheen on the carpet.
“Psst.” The girl inched out of the threshold, her eyes seeking the gloomy portals punched into the doorways. She kept close to the wall, sifting around the bundles of rubbish bags splinting along the seams.
Mono went the other direction, choosing to poke through the open rooms that looked deserted. One of the doors creaked from the gale blasting through the whole in a wall, where the window probably should have been. He wandered over to the edge where the floor splintered and broke away, his feet slipping somewhat on the wood greased by rains and silt. A gust snatched at his hat, but he was swift to snag it back before the rains swatted at his scalp.
He stood high above the rolling mist, watching the dark threads swirl downward to the obscurity of wherever the city and its buildings, and roads, and all the places existed below. The two worlds of the city, the places in the woven roads cutting through smaller buildings, and then the skyrises that stretched into the clouds – erasing the roads. He never didn’t think much about how he reached the summits of the roofs, or the trial of returning the roads below. The buildings were vertical island, each isolated by a sea of insubstantial storms clawing at the foundation. Why did the buildings exist? Who made them? To worship the Tower?
Mysteries that didn’t concern children. They offered food, they provided shelter from the storms, but once he was high into the structures the world below vanished. Ceased existing.
While exploring through one of the other rooms – not torn open and gaping at the clouds – he discovered a nest of toys and the picture speek on walls. He would have jumped onto the pile of soft plushies, but  something was wrong with them. And it was not the scatter of leather wrapped bones layered among the bulbous arms and glassy eyes.
Before really examining the nest, he searched above. The homes always had weird crust and tattered stuff dangling from the windows, and cloth unraveling across the floor – it always caught his toes if he wasn’t careful. Something about the lacey threads on the walls and glistening in the flicking bulb, made him very uneasy. He supposed it was something he had not seen before, but it often worked that unusual things lingering around was not something to dismiss.
The Morgue Hospital was one place where a kid could never let their guard down.
Rather prod at the nest itself, he plucked up a piece of wood from the floor and dug it into the layering. It was silty and dusty, and sort of crusty too. It also held fast to the board like syrup. He didn’t fool around with it much aside from that, and let the flint of wood to its new home.
The other rooms were in the same condition, but Mono took careful scrutiny of the floors and the spaces beneath the furniture. When he first tried to enter a room, his foot caught on something and he tumble to his knees. A bit noisily.
That prompted him to scurry for the nearest chair, but when he got too near it his eyes caught a shimmer of something that made him full stop. Which caused another stumble, with how his foot was now sticky and caught on the flakes of wallpaper on the floor. He ignored that in favor of turning his head, and adjusting his hat enough to peer under the chairs legs.
More of the lacey stuff that shimmered. It looked more like cloth with how thick it coated the chair, but when light from a nearby lamp hit the strands just right, it made the fiber shimmer like filthy water. It looked colorful, like the light from inside the….
A trill of alarm lit the back of his mind.
Now that he was scanning the room over more carefully, his eyes could fix on the shimmering substance sleeked across the walls. At first, he thought it was just from the rains trickling across the drywall the way it always did. Water found its way into everything, despite how deep he burrowed into the walls. But this shimmering wasn’t really moving, it was glinting with each buzz of the light bulb. And also, the gurgling from water was not here. The room was near silent, except for the distant hum of the storm.
Mono did his best to scrap the gunk off the pad of his foot, then scurried from the room. He searched the high walls now, putting the pieces of an ominous puzzle together.
A lot of the rooms had no food. Viewers meant food. The rooms were vacant. Empty. But not abandoned.
“Hey,” he risked. Calling and hissing as he peeked into the rooms. Something about the shimmering wisps swaying in the drafts made him uneasy. He knew it was bad, he knew there was danger. But he didn’t know what. Only what would happen. “Psst.”
Some sort of Whump! rebounded from a distant doorway. It startled Mono into a crouch, and he hid beside the wall listening and judging from what made that sort of bump. For an extended time he remained huddled, looking like nothing but apart of the heap of garbage he stayed beside. It took had the streak of shiny stuff, but he didn’t get close to it.
No other sound alarmed him. Slowly, he uncoiled himself and padded over to the doorway. It was open a crack, with a blade of light peeking out. He slid into the room, checking the walls for anything that might be using the distant cloak of black to shelter terrible intent. Nothing alarmed his already leery thoughts, which led him to search the next pressing eyecatcher.
The girl was over beside the bottom cabinets, laying on her side. This alarmed Mono, especially when an other kid shuffled in closer to her.
Mono gave a snort as he sprang into the room fully, his arms bent at his sides and shoulders squared up. His most intimidating threat for other kids. He was ready to tackle someone.
The brash launched proved to be premature, since the other girl was slowly pushing herself into sitting upright. The bulb above the oven range flashed, momentarily casting darkness through the room. The new kid swiveled toward Mono’s direction and flapped his arm.
No fight, no anger. That was good. And a kitchen, too. Mono cast his gaze across the cabinets, and took in the mugs and junk he could see over the edge of the countertops. Some of the lower cabinets had been opened, but it didn’t look like the two kids had found anything.
“Hey,” he called, as he moved closer to the packmates. It was familiar, like… Her, and him. Together. The thought made him take a deep breath of the musty air.
The other girl slowly climbed to her feet, slow and awkwardly from the bad fall. She made a strange gesture at Mono, which spurred him to skid on his footpads and draw back a step.
It was the way her arm moved. It was broken, but then… she wouldn’t be moving. Not when there was no danger and no flee. The girl sort of raised her arm like a line was tied to her elbow, with her wrist and then hand trailing in a strange direction. It looked more unsettling than the Patients locked in the Morgue Hospital. Why did her arm move that way?
The girl swung her arm again, and the same uncanniness swarmed his thoughts. She took a step back and as she did so, her head sort of tilted back. Not all the way, but enough to convince Mono to take a step back himself.
“Hmm?” he cooed. He watched the boy, who was now inching towards him. When the light brightened once more, the eerie condition of the new child raised panic in Mono. The kid wasn’t wearing a shirt and the pants plastered to his legs had rotted to threads. He was thin, but the texture of his skin and the way the light glistened over the hollows in his ribs… was wrong. Like his bones snaped apart and were trying to drill out.
With morbid fascination, he watched the other kid as their arm made another flapping motion. The other arm dangled at their side like a hollowed shirt sleeve and thinner than a thread, if not for the fingers dangling from the end of that arm Mono might have missed it.
The girls feet scuffed the floor. But she stopped moving. So did the new boy. They stopped moving, but stood and gave him those eerie arm—
Mono’s hair stood on end, and in a flash he had teleported a good ways to the side, nearly colliding with a cabinet. Not a moment after, something whizzed by his shoulder and bowled into the new kid. Mono steadied himself on the cupboard door and backed away, aware he should flee and never look back.
But that had been fast. And absolutely silent.
The other kids flailing arms knocked the girl down as well. She crashed hard to her backside, skull cracking on a discarded knife. The other kid… sort of fell apart.
He was in pieces of limbs. An arm, a leg, a foot tangled up in the lacey gunk coating the cupboards. His head was still rolling, and just gone by the time the oven light pulsed again.
The parts of the kid that did not scatter unraveled. But Mono did not need to see what emerged to put the final pieces together.
A set of sharp limbs descended over the girls body. The creature did nothing to her, but turned its glittery fangs towards the other thing unfolding from the other kids chest.
Mono tried pushing away from the cabinet, but one hand was caught on the gummy silky that decorated the rooms and the child nest. The substance stuck between his fingers and across his palms like gluey trap (something adults sometimes used), it felt like he’d pop his hand off if he pulled any harder.
A lot of rustling and clacking came from the creatures. The spider things. The one that tried to tackle Mono was getting menaced by the one that tore apart the boys body. As for the girl, she sort of rolled over as she struggled to stand. Beneath mess of stringy hair, a set of sharp legs wound up and tucked back into the base of her skull.
Mono could not tug hard enough. He dug his heels into the floor, aware if he smashed his feet into the cupboard he would be triple stuck. The floor here looked safe, but dusty. He tried scooping up handfuls of silt and throwing them at the goopy threads adhered to his palm, but that didn’t seem to be doing enough. It would have been bad if the door popped open with al his struggling, but the whole thing was attached to the cabinets. And the spiders were done hissing at each other, they turned the glossy black eyes towards him. So many eyes, all directed at him.
He hated being looked at!
As the light flashed again, some beside Mono caught his eye. He swept up the shard of glass and jammed that into the space between his hand and the cabinet. Somehow, it did bite through the matted gunk holding him fast, and also churned at the wood splinter he ground it into. Mono dropped to his rump as he continued jamming the blade into the soft wood, tearing up more threads than wood. He bucked hard, fighting the urge to kick at the door. He was making progress, he was going to get loose.
The spiders things hurtled at him right when he gave a final cleave with the glass piece, and gave his body a hard turn – dragging his arm away from the cupboard, but nearly ripping the socket from its joint. Pain was nothing compared to the ghastly sickles drawing up beneath the bristly legs.
Mono launched aside, catching him on his palms before shooting up into a sprint. One of the spider things produced an audible crash when it hit the door, but the other ground to a halt and began turning on its several sharp limps. As he rushed for the doorway he glance over his shoulder, certifying that neither of the two creatures had renewed the chase. On the other side, the girl was just sitting slouched beside the cupboards and no longer moving. Except for the mound of hair coating the nape of her neck.
All the hall looked the same he thought every stretch of glittery patch had something eerie poking from the pockmarked walls. Mono didn’t stop or take second glances, at his back the prattling feet found their heading. The creature was moving fast.
Some of the debris scattered throughout the hall did slow the creature, though. Mono scrambled over a suitcase or a hunk of chair, whereas the spider thing had to adjust its footing. He only took another glimpse to check its progress, a risky look. The spider and the other one had caught up with it, and to his relief that bickered about where the many legs would go. It was still two spiders and him.
To his dismay he couldn’t find a way out of the dwelling, except for the vent where he and the other kid came in. The spiders would untangle from the next fight and come for him, though he didn’t want to be in the vent confined with those things. The room didn’t have anyplace where he could hide and no other way for flee.
He dove into the vent and thundered across the walls and floor, the sides twisted around him like a certain pathway undulating with flesh. The path beneath his feet was not disintegrating, but the rapping scamper of those ugly legs were gaining on him. A pitiful whimper spilled form Mono as he galloped towards the musty cutout of light growing in the distance. Something scaly and ugly swiped at his ankle, that only told him he was going too slow. Yet he couldn’t fold and kick his legs fast enough in the confined space, and at the last stretch to fresh air he tumbled. His hat went flying. Something caught against his shoulder as he spun over, kicking at the sharp ends flailing at his face. He couldn’t see anything of the creature, except the glitter of its eyes and the dew of juice fluttering on a curved fang.
The thing at Mono’s back pinched his hip. It occurred to him that he dropped something in the flue, and before the thought finished blooming entirely he had the spike bent upward. It still had a kink in the tip, but the spider latched all five arms around Mono’s wonderful coat and dragged him into its embrace. An embrace that was obstructed by the sharp spike.
Mono cringed back into the sharp legs, the entire sprawl of the spiders width twitched, the sickle fangs unfurled further apart than what he thought possible. But it moved no further near him, and the creatures iron hold eased by a fraction. With a final sputter, the legs went rigid and Mono was able to sag backwards beside the pole. He couldn’t release it yet, but he did lock the rear tip into a notch in the vent. This wasn’t the time to pause or catch his breath. Not far within the passage, the clatter of many legs raced after the scene of internal juices oozing down the pipe.
Coiling in own legs up under him, Mono supplied a strong kick to the underside of the first spider. This dislodge the sharp claws from his coat and got him away from the hovering fangs. He twisted and wretched, some of the hooks of the spiders legs tugged threads out of his most amazing coat. But the other spider picked up the pace without issue, its long legs speared through the gaps in the passage left by its slain brethren. The arched prongs narrowly missed Mono when he somersaulted backwards, an act when sent the top of his head smashing against the upper edge of the vents access.
Somewhat dazed but still conscious, Mono flopped from the opening and back into the open air of the room. The relentless spider creature beat at the carcass that obstructed its path, the shred of that moment gave Mono a chance to search the room for the exit; while his senses persisted to tip and twist. He was about to rush for the nearest doorway, on the far side of the room. However, the chittering of the sharp legs on the hard floor reminded him of fake children, jeering at him.
Stealing Her.
To his right loomed a rickety bookcase, most the shelves barely tethered. Too dangerous to climb and no place to go. Not that he needed it to take him anywhere.
Mono pivoted on his toes and launched at the bookcase. The first shelf he caught snapped under his hand, but he was already skipping up to the second on third slate without issue. With each hike and leap, the entire structure quaked against his forceful strides. The fifth shelf snapped under his foot right as the entire frame buckled sideways, the left wall disconnected from the inner slates and swayed while Mono dangled by his fingertips. With the creaking wood, he couldn’t decide where the spider creature had gone too – had it followed, or was it spooked away? A mystery for another time, Mono focused on finding purchased with one of his feet as the walls swayed and began to tilt. All falling forward, with him still locked on.
With a mighty leap, Mono took a blind leap to the side. Just the same way when he knocked down the key. He landed on a patch of matted pages from a garbage bag, but managed to roll aside as the entire bookcase came cascading down. Not far from where Mono touched down, the second spider creature was retreating backwards from the books and other junk flying off the broken slates. The ugly creature didn’t stand a chance, by the time it scooted all the way around to evade the shelves completely, the slates cleaved through its body – this was followed by the whole rocking explosion of the walls and whatever else still loaded the remaining shelves.
Mono staggered back from the silt kicked up, and used an arched arm to bar the wall of dust from burying his senses. This didn’t save from two stifled sneezes, both of which felt explosive in the empty crackle of the cataclysms wake.
No sign of the spider thing survived. It had to be tricked or suffering. He hoped it suffered.
Mono plucked up a bit of wood and chucked it at the bookcase. He snatched up a chunk of drywall, then a hunk of plaster; each item produced a sharp clatter as he propelled them at their target. The spider thing was tricked. Both of them. They wouldn’t be bothering any other kids.
For several minutes, Mono stood glaring at the bookcase, his fists knotted up at his sides. He wanted to drag the spider back out and trick it again – stitch it back together, then pull it apart. Over and over. He wanted to drown it, and bite it, and beat it with a heavy pipe. Hurt it again and again until he didn’t have anymore hurt in himself.
He HATED IT!
Without another thought of the scene, he whipped around and sprint out of the room. He didn’t care he lost another hat, he didn’t care about anything but getting far away from the dust and silence.
By the time he navigated his way out of the dwelling and back into the familiar open corridors, Mono had calmed down. Sort of. He stopped thinking about the crooked legs knitting behind the girls stringy hair, or the boys flesh unraveling from his bones, or the way the skin—
He shook out of the daze, realizing he was gawking at an open window in one of the corridors derelict ends. The wind moaned against the slapping and sodden rags dangling beside the broken glass, the lone remaining plank of wood rattled as the gale tugged at it. Tick-Tick… tick-tick… tick-tock. Tick-tock… tick.
Hovering high in the misty distance was the gleaming eye of the sharp spire, ever watchful of the buildings and citizens of the city. And possible Mono.
‘It calls to me.’
And Six stared at him from the void of the dark hood. The coat made Her important, just like the wonderful coat made him important. They would flee and escape all the terrible things that wanted to make them fail. He wouldn’t let them fail. They would hurt the Tower. He would show Her how. He showed her a lot of things for safe and flee, and how to pack.
Something blasted past the window, cutting out the sheets of rain only briefly. The shape was followed by a crackling wail but in the next moment it was gone, as if that never happened. The Signal Beacon seemed to smolder brighter like the eyes of the Hunter within the stitched sack.
Wandering around with nothing to show for it, Mono meandered his way back to the elevator chute with the stiff cord. It was just as cold and clammy as the time he slipped down, and climbing back up was no more a challenge than trying not to lose his grip. The metal was not as comforting as a sheet or tangled shirt, it wouldn’t give under his vice grip and only seared into his fingers like blades. He had to take a moment after leaping off and back onto solid ground to get his bearings, and rub the fresh tear in his palm. He tried not to remember how he got that. He did flee, that was all that mattered.
He ran away. The fastest got away, the slowest stalled the monsters.
Getting the door of the room shut was much easier when he could shove it from the other side. There wasn’t much reason for making the door shut, it was just a habit. As he suspected, when he went to the big room with the couch the space was empty.
He took a breath, feeling the stale air on his tongue. The door was shut, and after a short scout he would curl up someplace and rest. That jittery sensation hadn’t dissolved from his skin, every scrap of shadow or twitch of the light put a quivering panic into his skin. Static flakes bristled off his coat like a TV was around, but he ignored that in favor of keeping watch of his surroundings.
So lost in thought was he, the steady tick and tapping slipped by his hyper tuned radar. Up until long fingers swept around his body and lifted him high.
Mono snarled and began fighting. All his retaliation went into bites and clawing, but he was no match for the suffocating grip tightening around his chest.
“Child,” crackled the Thin Man. “Where have you been hiding? I could not sense you.”
The abrupt sound did not ease Mono one bit, and he renewed his gnawing on the boney knuckles. Especially when he was adjusted and pressed to the coarse tweed of the Thin Man’s jacket. He bit down so hard his jaw ached, and his sore tooth stabbed into his jaw.
“Shh. None of that.” The Thin Man moved. Or glittered and filled Mono’s head with the pulsing chatter of static; his own skin buzzed with the sensation, while the tired lamp flickered by the wall. The tall man pried him away and began prodding his body, nudging hard at his torso or plucking at his legs. Mono gave his usual growl of agitation, his arms scrabbled with the Thin Man’s wrists but he failed to dislodge himself from the fingers locked around his waist. “Why are you like this?”
A steady hum filled the air around Mono’s head, as the Thin Man glared at his restrained arm. Mono kicked at nothing, the Thin Man wasn’t near enough to get smacked.
“Do you ever not manage to maim yourself? Boy.”
The glitchy distortion sent his head into a spiral, though nothing happened, aside from the Thin Man easing down to sit on the couch. As for Mono, with a growl he latched onto the space between the Thin Man’s thumb and forefinger. The Thin Man did nothing but crackle about him never getting all bloodied, or whatever. Mono focused on chewing on the hand.
“Why do I bother tending your wounds,” warbled the man in the hat. “Your mission is to wander off and get brutalized. More blood is on that coat than in you.”
The lack of reaction made Mono clamp down tighter, even if it did nothing. Maybe something would change. He would make something change. A disapproving gust reminded him that his hat was still missing.
“Very well. Get it out of your system.”
The fingers pressed into his spine and Mono hated it. He hated being small and not doing anything right. The Thin Man would find out Mono messed up, and another kid was gone. That was why the Thin Man didn’t want him around the other kids. He was danger and he didn’t like when Mono disappeared, cause the kids….. The Thin Man would find them. Nothing stopped the Thin Man.
“There is no need to blubber like that,” the voice crackled in his ears. “You found me. Such a clever little boy.”
“Little,” Mono murmured.
“Yes.” The hands fixed around his shoulders moved, and he could pluck his head up to see the shadowed face of the man and his hat gaze down on him, the eyes glinting. “Such a little self-important boy. You believe the world revolves around you.”
Mono couldn’t fathom what all the speek meant. He repeated without direction, “Little.”
“Little,” the static affirmed. “You are certainly not tall. Not for some time.”
The Thin Man made such strange speek. Always about ‘event-yulls’ and ‘pare-doxes’ or ‘somedays’. The tall thin man always insisted, one day he would be gone. Mono was always meant to be alone. Always.
Why could he not keep the Thin Man? It must have to do with the danger and the other children. The Thin Man didn’t know anything about the other kids. Someday that would all change. Just like Mono would fight the Tower, the Thin Man would have to go, too.
Mono was barely getting his feet tucked up and his face buried back into the Thin Man’s suit, when the hands pulled him away and set him on the cold floor. He didn’t stay put – he couldn’t! The Thin Man was already glitching across the room, his shoes tapped across the floor in their rhythmic way. The tall figure only paused in the archway briefly, the lamp barely catching the shimmery glint of static before the Thin Man disappeared.
It took Mono more time to reach the Thin Man. It did help that the Thin Man didn’t keep moving, and was even looking back as Mono rushed down the corridor. The tallest figure in all the city even stayed still as Mono raced all the way to him, his own steps slowing when he was a few steps from the shoes. Mono tilted his head far back and found the shining eyes watching him from beneath the shadow of the important hat.
A shiver twisted at Mono’s spine. He didn’t want the Thin Man to find out about the other kids. He wanted the Thin Man to stay and have company. And also – it scared him to think though – Mono didn’t care about the other kids. He didn't. This always happened, they ran away. They left Mono or got stole, or hurt him. The Thin Man didn't understand anything about children. He was too tol.
Even though he didn’t get a good look at the girl, he knew her face would find its way into his dream haunts. She was nothing but one of the many he failed, and the memories would haunt him. And he hated her for getting tricked. It wasn’t his FAULT! I̵t̸ ̴ w̷a̷s̵n̷'̴t̷!̷
He jolted when a weight settled onto his head. Roughly.
It was the Thin Man’s palm. He gave Mono’s head a rough pat before straightening and glitching away. The silhouette flashed further down the hall. The gesture didn’t make Mono feel better, it did the opposite. The act did mean something to Mono, and that was the Thin Man didn’t mind him chasing. Nothing would happen to the Thin Man. He wouldn't let it.
Choking back some of the knotting in his chest, Mono broke into another run. He chased after the steady threading of static humming in the dwelling, simmering beneath the cracking clicks of the Thin Man’s steps. Tick-tick, tick-tock – the same sharp chiming that rolled through the endless corridor Mono spent ages trying to reach the end of. Opening that door had been the worst thing he’d ever done, but it had also been his most favorite.
If not for the Thin Man trying to keep Her and him, then Mono would have no one.
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sayaratyriea ¡ 10 months ago
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real reason i respect dungeon meshi is that it's the first RPG-esque fantasy anime I've seen that has halflings that aren't loli bait
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theskyexists ¡ 1 year ago
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remember rewatching the part in strikers a couple years ago in which nanoha goes to save vivio, her adopted daughter, who is a girl of FIVE forced to become a magical super weapon no longer in control of her body and nanoha has to beam her so incredibly powerfully that nanoha becomes permanently disabled to a small degree and nanoha KNEW of that risk (could easily have been worse) and i was literally CRYING even with completely forgotten context because SOMEHOW this is just this series’ specialty where the most emotional moment is when Nanoha pulls it ALL OUT to stop somebody and in doing so saving them andhere it is extra powerful because vivio is calling out for nanoha to save her and nanoha can only do that by hurting her
SHES FIVE!!!!!!!!!!!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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caeca-iustitia ¡ 2 years ago
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Note:
Vincent likes to thread flowers through people's hair if they're allowed to. They grow the flowers literally as they work so the things are incredibly fresh. They like making flower crowns if the person's hair isn't long enough for a braid- which usually ends in someone smelling like a meadow.
If your muse likes having their hair played with then Vincent is a very good person to have to do that. They're incredibly gentle and take the utmost care to not mess up anyone's hair. It also makes them happy to do so; as they're happy to make someone else happy.
In turn, if your muse likes playing with other people's hair, then Vincent can be a very good candidate for that. Whilst they may be tense at first, they will very easily slip into contentment once you get a rhythm going. They also don't mind if you thread flowers or other ornaments into their hair as long as they can be easily removed later and don't get tangled in their unruly mane.
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multishipper-baby ¡ 2 years ago
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Also random thought but I absolutely love that trope where a bunch of characters are all sharing a bed and cuddling (whether platonic or romantic) because I'm a sucker for fluff
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