Being with an ooman brought forth a good number of oddities, most of which they adored.
You were different from them, in terms of looks, yes, but also in terms of culture. And as they whiped away the liquid streaming from your eyes they realized once again how different you were in terms of morals as well.
"I'm a monster!" you sobbed, your voice frantic and shaky, and they took you into their arms on instinct at the sound.
"You're overreacting." They attempted to console you, which didn't quite work as intended they came to realize as you slapped their chest.
"I killed it! The poor little fella... they already have such a short lifespan..."
Seeing you in so much pain over the death of a being that didn't even have a conscience, they wondered how you managed to think of them as anything other than a monster. With their walls of proudly displayed trophies.
Some of them had only half your life expectancy, some lived longer than them. Some even had family.
"Fella?" they instead focused on consoling you through your strange breakdown "what makes you so sure it was male?"
You gasped, your eyes suddenly wide in horror "I didnt even think of that! What if it was female? What if it was expecting? What if I just killed an entire bloodline??!"
Though they were apparently not very good at it.
Unsure on what to do or say, they simply continued to hold you, the purring that they've subconsciously started to do getting louder.
"If it brings you any comfort", they began quietly as they heard your sobbing come to a slow stop "its unlikely it felt any pain, being the size that it was."
"It does," you mumbled, only parting from them shortly to whipe at your face "thank you."
They simply nodded.
How your species managed to become your planets apex predators remained a mystery to them.
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Puhpandas had a great idea recently (glitchtrapped Tony.) And I wanted to take a stab at the concept.
More specifically at the "What happens after." bit. Hint- Tony gets lost and ends up back near his old house.
Under a readmore because it could be triggering if you've been physically assaulted before. There's feelings in this that could touch on nerves.
********
He'd traced his steps, along a familiar road. Now he stood on the street, facing his old house. He felt all dazed, and confused.
Why?
Everything hurt- his back, his stomach, his neck, his arms. And something bad had happened to him. His head ached, but not nearly as much as his heart ached.
'... Because it's not my home, it's their home, and I'm wanted no more…'
He couldn't go home. Because it wasn't his home anymore. It was someone else's now. He couldn't remember how to get to his Grandma's from here. He couldn't remember a lot of things.
(He didn't want to remember.)
What had happened? He'd gone to the pizzaplex? Gregory had been there?
Did someone jump me on the way home?
He knew what really happened. But he couldn't believe it- didn't believe it- it hurt too much- He could feel something poking around inside his mind. Something he'd been trying to ignore.
He didn't cry. Or sob. He just hurt.
Get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head-
He was on the swings suddenly, in the park that sat down between their street, and the next street over. He hummed a song absent-mindedly. One of those old songs that Grandma would play on her old record player. A song that his Mom sometimes sang along to.
I'm missing time? Did I got abducted by aliens?
Ellis would laugh with him about it next week, when they'd meet up at school again.
They used to play here a lot, when they were in elementary school together. Pretending the playground was a pirate ship. That the floor was a crocodile infested river- so you'd have to jump from circle to circle, never landing on the soft blue floor. Making the merry-go-round spin so fast, that they both would get thrown off it after a dizzy spell, and collapse to the ground laughing and carrying on-
It just made his heart ache more. His brain pounding against his skull.
He kicked his legs uselessly. He wasn't swinging. Not really. Just sitting. Just trying not to be still. He wasn't going anywhere.
The playground didn't have any lights that stayed on at night. It wasn't that kind of playground, where you'd need to worry about teens going there and doing bad things in the dark. This was a good part of town. Nothing bad could happen here.
The only lights were distant street lamps, and the starlight filtering down.
What time is it?
Tony had a watch. Had a watch- it was missing now. So was his entry pass to the pizzaplex.
Did someone mug me?
He also had a different shirt than he'd worn to school- a Bonnie longsleeve? Hadn't they stopped selling these? Where did he get it?
Did someone… reverse mug me??
The sun was starting to rise in the distance. He could understand why they'd given him a new shirt- his old one. That had... gotten stained, hadn't it?
How long have I been here?
His arms and belly felt weird. He lifted his shirt and sleeves to look at them. Well... He wasn't gonna stain his new shirt, at least. He stopped looking- it just made him feel queasy.
Lights were coming on in the houses, one by one. He could see a light on over at Ellis's house, through the back yard.
He could go there. And they could have breakfast together. They could pretend they'd had a sleepover together, like old times. Ellis could loan him a sleeping bag. A watch. A new head. And nothing bad would have happened to him and there would be nothing weird poking around in his head and his heart would stop aching and-
And Ellis's Mom was there. Standing in front of him.
How long has she been there?
He started a little, nearly falling backwards before clutching the chains tighter.
"Tony- It's okay. It's Olivia, do you remember me?" She had her hands in front of her, in a way that should probably have been calming.
He caught his breath, and felt panic start to ease out of him. He nodded. And she seemed to relax a little, too.
"Oh, good. Sweetie- listen. I've rang your Mom. She's on her way now. And so are the police. Okay?" She looked at him intently, and kneeled down in front of him. While he kicked his legs and stared off into the distant sky. The stars were going out.
"Tony? Did you hear me?"
"Um. Yes. Sorry Mrs Martinez."
He couldn't look at her. This is so embarrassing. Having to be picked up by his Mom like this. Had he and Ellis broken another vase trying to play skip rope indoors? That was a silly thing to do, Tony. You know better-
He could feel her eyes looking through him.
"Do you… want to talk about it, sweetie?"
He shook his head frantically, and choked out "No- no- no-"
"Hey, sweetie. It's okay. You're okay now. Everyone was so worried about you…"
Why?
She looked at him so pitifully. Had he said that out loud?
A car pulled up, on his old street. A familiar car. Mom's car.
And she was there. So quick, he'd barely seen her race up to him. He thought she'd grab him, and swing him around in a spinney-hug. She used to do that, when he was little.
Instead she stopped next to Mrs Martinez. It looked like she'd been crying earlier. She was still crying.
His head kept hurting. Pounding in a rhythm now. He couldn't take it much longer-
She couldn't get any words out. Mouth gaping open like a fish's would. But he could get the message- What happened to you?
He went to answer, but felt… sleepy. Really sleepy. He was gonna fall off this swing any second-
But he didn't fall. Instead he heard his voice talking to his Mom. It sounded strange to him. Like he was listening underwater…
"Mom, I… I lost track of time at the pizzaplex. It got dark, and someone h-hurt me when I was walking home… please don't be mad…"
He went to sleep as Mom pulled his imposter into a hug.
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(context for watcher/listener!sausage can be found in the “videos” tag on my blog if you want it, but this ficlet can be read without said context)
- - -
“Y’know, of all the Hermits I was expecting to be pulling me into a dark corner tonight, I did not expect you to be first, Grian! I love the initiative!”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Grian says in a voice near a hiss. He’s got Sausage by the wrist, leading him into a small area of the upper floor of the tavern in Sanctaury that does look like it was built for the exact purpose Sausage is implying. Grian decides to ignore that as well.
“What are you doing here?” Grian’s straight to the point. He always has to be, with these Things, if he doesn’t want to get trapped in a loop of slant rhyming pleasantries.
“What do you mean?” Sausage asks, shaking his wrist out of Grian’s tight grip and leaning comfortably against the wall. “This is where I live. It’s my home. If anything, I should be asking you mysterious strangers what you’re doing here, but I’m sure you’ve heard that question enough for one day.”
“You know exactly what I mean.” Grian crosses his arms and tries his best not to look petulant, but he sure feels like it. “I thought They’d given up on trying to snatch me back, so why would They send you of all people? What’s your game?”
Sausage laughs, honest to god laughs, like he can’t believe Grian’s even asking him such a question. Grian thinks it’s a reasonable question, in this scenario, but what he thinks and what’s reasonable rarely seems to matter with these things.
“They didn’t send me,” Sausage looks him up and down in that way that makes Grian have to physically stop himself from curling inwards. This is why he never talks to Them. “Nobody sends me anywhere, they don’t tell me what to do and I like it that way! I just do my own thing. Isn’t that what you’re doing?”
“No you’re not! You’re not- you can’t be! That’s not how this works!” Grian begins to notice that he’s no longer whisper-shouting and starting to just-normal-shout and takes a deep breath, trying not to draw the attention of his friends enjoying themselves on the floor below. And, realistically, in the other dark corners Sausage seems to have built into this place.
“That’s exactly how this works. You didn’t think you were the only person who’d left, did you?”
Grian opens his mouth, closes it, and thinks. In hindsight… yeah, he had kind of assumed he’d been the only person who’d left. Not for lack of trying, probably- but They’d tried for so long to get him back, kept him closely surveilled even when They’d accepted he was gone- surely some people had caved to that pressure eventually. When there was no sign They’d ever let up, ever let you go… he could understand eventually letting it overtake you.
“Did- did you leave, too?” Grian doesn’t remember the last time he saw Sausage’s face. He didn’t know him back then, of course. He probably would’ve connected the man with the person Pearl so often spoke about sooner. But he knows it’s been a long time, maybe even longer than the last time Grian had gone There. He doesn’t think Sausage had been There, that day. This might explain why.
“Eh, not quite?”
“What-“ Grian flails, both mentally and with his arms a bit. “What do you mean not quite?”
“Exactly what I said! I was never- it’s complicated, y’know?”
“Explain. Now.”
“Well, uh,” Sausage seems to flounder for the first time since this conversation started, which Grian is choosing to take as a victory. “Look, I wasn’t- they didn’t pick me. For this, or for anything, ever. Sometimes things just happen and you get yourself into a place you shouldn’t have and then… they can’t get rid of me, I can’t get rid of them, it is what it is.”
Grian stares at him for a long moment. Really stares at him, in the same way Sausage had looked him over earlier, in the same way that makes you feel like you’re under a microscope. Judging by the sudden nerves in his eyes, Grian can assume he feels it too. Grian remembers his face. That had been the first thing he’d noticed, when the Hermits had arrived. It had been a long time since they’d seen each other, but Grian knew his face. And now that Grian was studying him, really trying to remember… he’s not sure he quite likes what memories he’s dredging up.
“What are you?”
“Grian!” Sausage’s voice drips with mock offense as he puts his hand up to partially cover his mouth. “We only just met, do you think that’s polite?”
“Answer the question,” Grian sighs. How Pearl deals with this man on the regular, he doesn’t know.
“Well, if you insist.” Sausage sighs, somehow even more exaggerated than his previous movements. “It’s just… if you’ll believe it, it’s somehow even harder to answer the first question.”
“It shouldn’t be,” Grian says. “They’re two very different People, you know.”
“But they’re the same species, when it all comes down to it. Like, you might be very different than a chicken, but you’re both birds in the long run.”
Grian pauses, fanning his wings out a bit behind him as he considers. “I don’t think that metaphor’s quite landing the way you want it to.”
“No, me neither. Anyways, let me continue.
When they don’t pick you, things go a little differently! You don’t get sorted onto one side or the other since, well, you’re not really supposed to be there? So I’m… whatever I want to be, really. I think I’m feeling like more of a Listener, today, but we’ll see how the mood shifts.”
Grian flinches at the Name, on instinct. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he files it away to be dealt with at a later date. As for the rest of what Sausage said-
“What?”
“You heard me.” Sausage shrugs. He’s so nonchalant, Grian thinks he might strangle him, if not for the worry that that’s exactly what he wants out of this, somehow.
“Did I? Did I hear you?” Grian wants to pace, but that requires leaving the security of the corner, so he forces his feet to root themselves to the floor. “I thought- I thought you had to- if you wanted to change sides, I thought you had to-“
Grian closes one eye and takes his thumb to it, twisting the finger into his eyelid. The gesture seems to get the point across.
“Well, that’s the funny thing about this, actually.” From the way he’s been talking, Grian assumed Sausage thought this whole thing was funny. He restrains himself from saying that out loud if only so Sausage will finish his explanation.
Sausage reaches up to his left eye, pulls his eye lid back a bit, and unceremoniously pops out his prosthetic eye.
“All these processes and rituals actually have a lot of loopholes.”
Grian doesn’t know what face he’s making, but it’s enough to make Sausage giggle while he pops the eye back in. Because of course he does. Because this how his day is going, apparently. Walk through a weird portal in his basement and wake up in a world filled with his friends who don’t recognize him and also a guy he only ever saw There, who he was never supposed to see again. Sure. Of course he’s laughing about it. Grian thinks if he was a slightly different person, he’d be laughing too. It is, undeniably, absurd.
“Well, I think we’re done here then!” Grian would probably object if he weren’t so shocked about the loopholes. As it is, he just stands there a bit stupidly.
Sausage turns away to return to the party before turn around again for just a moment, reaching over, and ruffling Grian’s hair. That shocks him enough to shake him out of his stupor and swat Sausage’s hand away, though not before his hair is suitably messed up.
“What was that for?!”
Sausage smiles as he reaches up to rough up his own hair as well. “I assumed you didn’t want your friends asking questions about why you were dragging me into a dark corner, you know?” Sausage even goes far enough to pull his shirt a bit out of where it’s tucked into his pants, because of course he does. Grian tries not to cringe, but Sausage is right about this one thing. It is the easiest way to dodge any questions about where he’d gone off to- at the expense of the many knowing looks and teasing remarks he’ll be getting from the other Hermits instead.
“Have a good night, Grian!” Sausage calls over his shoulder as he turns to leave for real this time. “And remember, drinks are on me for all you guests tonight! You look like you need it.”
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