Archive of Our Own

“Can I please have something else?” Lamented Clyde, laying face-down on top of the couch. It stared lazily at Alex, who had a pot of beef stew on the counter and a package of mashed potatoes they were struggling with. It had watched them battle with a few different aspects of the meal they wanted to have tonight, but they had pressed onward all the while. The effort they were willing to put in made Clyde happy-their normal energy levels had restored quite a bit recently. Seemed like they were growing into their new body.

“After how long I spent on this?” They rebutted. “I’m eating like, an hour later than usual for this!”

“Fine.” It swept its hand across the back of the couch. “I do want another sandwich eventually though.”

“Y’know what-” They turn around. “Tomorrow’s Friday, it can be easy, I’ll do grilled cheese. Sound good?” Clyde grins and nods, kicking it’s legs backwards. Alex smiles at it before adjusting their gaze past it.

“Oh shit, wait-” Alex points excitedly at the TV, Clyde whipping it’s head around to see. On screen is the text “Beware the Smiling Snatcher!”, bright orange text plastered across a crudely sketched version of Eastridge’s very own nightmare. The drawing itself was…a little off from it’s actual appearance, in more ways than one, but it got the idea across fine. Clyde laughed.

“That’s you!” 

“That’s me!” The two of them energetically repeated that a few times before devolving into just yelling and pointing at the TV excitedly. Alex put down the package and moved closer to the TV. It displayed a few basic warnings on nighttime safety, reminding all to close and lock any entrances to their houses and to be inside before dark. 

“I think the foundation is supposed to be remaking it soon.” Alex says. “It’s a few years old at this point, and Lankmann has brought up how the foundation specifically needs to take control of the situation.” Clyde winces at their boss’s name. “Oh fuck, wait-” They put their hand over their mouth. “He might ask me to do the cartoon voice again.”

“That’s usually not too hard, right?”

“It’s just been in some of the training videos; I don’t want to hear my own voice on TV, that’s weird!”

“Local celebrity here!” It teased.

Alex shakes their head. “God, I hope not. Especially now that I’ve changed so much.” They take a step back and gesture to their whole body. “I think the wings are going to be a problem soon. The lab coat covers the actual shape of them, but they’re starting to grow feathers.”

“Can I see them?” Clyde asks.

“Sure.” They turn around and take their shirt off, and struggle for a second before opening them to their full wingspan. They now spread out to a little over their arm length, and had seemed to grow a bit stronger in between the skeleton. They had gotten a little bit more control over them over the past few weeks, but still couldn’t flap them fully. At most they got a little back and forth movement, but the two of them were still working on bringing them to their full potential. Sure enough, little stubs were starting to appear, mostly concentrating around their spine but some dispersed wider outwards. 

“Hmm.” Clyde says. They fold them back in and put their shirt back on. “Yeah, it’s gonna be harder once you have those all grown in.” It puts it’s hand to its face, thinking. “Maybe we could beat the shit out of Lankmann before then.”

“Bad idea.” They argue instantly. “There could be more…trapped in there. I just need a little longer to poke around. And to actually figure out what the caretakers are all about.” They pointed to their camcorder resting on the stand next to the couch, right underneath their lamp. “Plus, we already have that interview. If anything, that could be proof enough without actually needing to take him out.”

Clyde had a variety of rebuttals at its disposal, but it shut up for the time being. It hadn’t actually been inside the foundation building at all, nor had it seen Lankmann in person. It had no idea what an entire facility dedicated to decimating it could have at its disposal at any given moment. 

Plus, it just really trusted Alex. 

It had an idea. “You know about the hallucination thing, right?” It asked. 

“What? I mean, kinda, yeah.”

“We can make people see and hear things-it’s like a trapping mechanism.” It explained. “I have an idea, now that you’re growing more into your form. Maybe you could…” It tries to think of a way to explain. “...make people think you haven’t changed? Like if someone notices anything, you’re able to make them see you as normal. You might’ve already been doing that before.”

They think for a second. “I still don’t know if the Caretakers or Lankmann are regular humans. They could have some sort of…I don’t know. Buffer.”

“It’s still worth a shot.” Clyde suggests. “You just need to imagine the reality in front of you, in as much detail as possible. So in your case, just imagine you haven’t changed over the past few months.”

“Hmm.” They seem to have zoned out a bit, thinking. “I’ll try, if it becomes an issue.” They perk up suddenly. “Oh shit-the potatoes-” They turned around and headed back to the microwave. Clyde laughed. 

“Alright, fine, I’ll have some.” 

“You never had a choice!” They both laughed, TV blaring warnings all the while. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next day, Alex had walked into work and had immediately been told by a coworker they were needed in the recording studio-they had almost laughed instantly in their face at their own prediction from last night. They pushed past sick(maybe. They had no way of knowing for sure anymore.) patients and wandered past old doors until they reached where they were needed-a completely out-of-place studio, only so clean, albeit a thin layer of dust on every surface, because it was rarely ever used. They only got sent here to record training tapes for work, reading off intense, elaborate instructions in the dumbest voice imaginable. It would probably be a little higher quality if they had gotten someone who was actually trained in the field, but alas, the employee whose only work history included retail and…whatever was happening here was the lamb sent to slaughter. Oh god, and now that voice was actually going to be on television. Great.

There was someone else in there-he had his elbows resting on the table, chin in his hands. His face was turned away, but he had just a typical button-up on, as opposed to a lab coat or anything similar to any of Alex’s other coworkers-who were usually the ones monitoring the recording. He didn’t react at all when they entered.

“Hello?” They said. They wanted to tap his shoulder, but were worried about touching him directly. They slowly moved around him, trying to see if his eyes were even open. They move around the chair he’s seated in, see his face from the front. It’s…exhausted, that’s for sure. His eyes are closed, but he still has prominent eye bags nevertheless. His black hair fell fairly messily in front of him, shrouding the sides of his face. He almost looked dead, with how pale his complexion was.

He also wasn’t wearing his goggles.

…oh god, was this a message? A trap? Was he dead? Alex immediately does a 360 of the room in a fit of paranoia, looking for a camera, or a sign, or a particularly well hidden caretaker. Maybe this was it for them-it didn’t need to be-they could probably defend themself, at least fend a few people off and run-

Suddenly, his hand collapses, along with his forehead, directly into the desk in front of him. Alex flinches hard at the movement. He yelps and jolts back up, turning around to make eye contact with them. He puts his hand over his mouth dramatically.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He says, holding his forehead. “Ow, Jesus. You’re…Alex, I assume?”

“Yeah, uh-are you okay?” They ask. “I have ibuprofen.”

“No, I’m okay.” He groans and rubs his temples. “It’s on me for falling asleep anyway.” He smiles and laughs at himself. Alex gets a better look at him now that he’s awake. The paleness remains even in consciousness, and his entire outfit is pretty slack considering the uniforms the rest of the staff are required to wear. He’s wearing sweatpants and an untucked button up, insane combo, no gloves or goggles or anything protective of the sort. They can spot a few little black splotches on the collar of his shirt-maybe his hair was dyed? They catch a few more scattered around his sleeves before seeing his fingertips, all faded to black at the ends. A realization hits them.

“Oh, you’re Mortimer!” Alex gasps. He nods enthusiastically in response.

“Yep! I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, actually. Illustrations are already done, I think I’m just supposed to keep an eye on you.” He waves his hands around the soundboard in front of him. “Although I’m only kind of familiar with audio mixing? I think Lankmann just saw I worked on a cartoon and assumed I would know about all aspects of it.”

“I’m kind of in the same boat.” Alex replied. “My only work experience before this was that one drugstore by the traffic circle.”

“...really?” He asks, dumbfounded. “So like…no offense, but why are you the voice then?”

Alex laughs. “Don’t know.”

“Hmm.” It’s not judgemental, thankfully. Alex is astounded at the abundance of vigor he seems to have after just waking up and looking like he hasn’t slept in at least a week. They feel a little bad about not being able to match his energy, but he seems to have enough for the two of them. He spins back around in the chair, picks up a paper packet, and hands it to them. “Here’s the script. Not too long, just a short notice about Halloween and whatever.” 

They take it in their hands, noting some little black smudges around the edges. They skim through-It’s…something alright. It’s got an uncharacteristic ego dripping off it, absolutely unfounded yet complete confidence packed between every space. They feel their face contort.

“Everything good?” Mortimer asks curiously. Alex’s focus is broken, and they nod with as much fake compliance as possible.

Alex wondered if he knew. He must’ve, right? He wasn’t wearing his goggles like a lifeline, none in sight actually.  Maybe they had found someone else to cling to, make the shifts a little less gapingly lonely. 

…But god, the fear was paralyzing. Maybe he was just someone luckier than them, already exposed to the truth and choosing to embrace it. Maybe he really believed in what Lankmann was doing, whatever it was, maybe he had some security in it one way or another. Maybe that’s where he gets his vibrance from. So assured in his own safety. They feel their face heat up, a little frustrated, a little angry. Something scratches underneath their skin.

“Ready to go?” He asks, smiling, completely unaware of Alex’s inner workings. They just nod, and head towards the mic. They felt a little better with the glass between the two of them. They stare at the paper, ignoring the burning behind their eyes.

 He pops up from the soundboard. “Are you wearing a backpack or something?”

“Huh?” They look back up.

“Or like, a fanny pack or…” He gestures to their back. Oh shit.

Now was the time. They took a deep breath in and tried to focus. There wasn’t anything pushing back against their shirt. There wasn’t anything there-no extra bones or flesh or premature feathers. There was nothing. Just a spinal column and two shoulder blades. They imagine that feeling, attempt to breathe it to life. They think they got it, trying to hold the self-image in their mind. It was like cupping water in their hands, pulling their fingers tightly together. They grab onto that thought, hold as hard as they can, and try to hold two focuses at once. They look back up, trying their best to make eye contact with him.

“What do you mean?” They ask, feigning as much cluelessness as they can. They twist their back both ways, hopefully showing off how ordinary their silhouette was. He squints at them, their heart hammering against their chest.

“Oh, nevermind.” He sits back down. It might’ve just been the way your coat was sitting.” He rubs his eyes. “That, or I’m just so sleep deprived.” He sighs and places his hands back down onto the desk. “Give me a second and we can get started.”

They breathe out a shaky breath, as quietly as they can. Their entire body felt electric, nerves jumping and skin prickling. The script in their hands was their only real thing, aside from what they decided for themself-and now, everyone around them as well.

They were standing there, holding a script. About 6’ even. Short nails, bitten as far as they would allow. Their shirt fit loosely on them, hanging off their shoulders. They were pale and had normal-sized green eyes and normal sized teeth and their hair hadn’t grown at all, just resting underneath their shoulder blades. It felt easier now, now that they knew they were capable of doing it.

They smile, grip the script in their hands a little tighter, and begin to read. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Post-recording, they wandered around the foundation for a bit until they were asked to wipe down all the doorknobs to the patient’s rooms. Incredibly ironic considering what they were busted for, but they weren’t one to turn down an easy task. They got a good way through before they noticed their coworkers on the same shift beginning to leave, albeit silently. No one ever really talked to them, even before the incident. Although now, their ‘Have a good weekend’s were met with silence as opposed to any sort of acknowledgement they heard them. They continued onwards, figuring they were nearly done.

“Alex.”

Well shit. 

“Good evening. I’m going in order, I’m on 33.” They say, keeping their body facing the door. They consider making a “exactly halfway there” joke before mentally slapping themselves in the face. They hear heavy footsteps approach directly behind them. Their nervousness around Lankmann had mostly dropped after the incident, but they still felt their blood run cold at his presence. 

“It’s fine if you’re not finished. Go home.” He tilted his head to look over their shoulder. His eyes met their hands and he sighed annoyedly. “Alex, you need to take the nails off. This can’t be a consistent thing.”

Oh shit. A really good opportunity just presented itself. They turn their body away, pressing their hands to their chest. There was still a lot they didn’t know about Lankmann-he could already be acutely aware of Alex’s situation. They could just be blatantly brandishing their wings right now, near death after trying to play dumb.

Still, they had to try. They had to hope their delusion up until now would save them.

Focus. Focus. Their gloves weren’t torn to shreds at the end. There was absolutely nothing off about them. They had hands roughed up and callused in an absolutely human manner, right at their fingertips and at the base of their fingers and definitely not skin hardened entirely around the hand. They wonder if their palms can still sweat- focus . Their fingers are long and bony and soft right where they should be.

They got it. They turn back around, raising their hand. Their shaking had subdued just enough to not be suspicious. 

“What do you mean?” They ask. They have their hand lowered just enough so they couldn’t see the truth and ruin it for themselves. He looks closely at it, trying to look for something. They take it one step further. They lower their hand and use the other to remove their glove, their nerves like livewires. They hold their hand out, palm down, showing off-hopefully nothing. They wait with bated breath. It seems like his eyes barely move.

“My mistake.” He says. “Go home.” He turns and walks away, off into the fog and distant music. They breathe out a sigh of relief, take their other glove off. Their nervousness dissipates, changes into something else. They feel their heart racing, with something different this time. Not even an apology of some kind? They head to throw their gloves away, brain heating up with anger. They leave the facility, digging in their pocket for their keys, breathing heavily. They could have knocked him out right then, taken what they needed. The changing of shifts meant that there would likely be less employees scattered about-no one ever waited for their replacement. They could’ve taken his head right off his neck, torn and clawed and-

They think they feel something in their forehead. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Clyde was ecstatic at the news, of course. It was thrilled to know Lankmann was human for sure, easier to knock out when the time came. It was practically bouncing for a few minutes at the news before asking about dinner, to which Alex obliged, smiling all the while. It was excitedly waiting for the new PSA to air before they told it that it would be a few more days at the very least. It pouted for a few seconds before absolutely obliterating its grilled cheese the way a nearly-rabid dog would. They had a nice evening and said good night to each other and Alex was happy for all of an hour before they did the unfortunate thing of falling asleep right after that.

They felt themself move, tried to stretch out their fingers. They knew this was a dream, on a base level-they could feel their eyes closed physically, their arms moved too slowly, like they were swimming, and everything around them was bare-bones and blurry. The scenery around them was white and pale, no distance to stare into. They put their hand to their forehead, trying to alleviate whatever’s causing the buzzing in their skull. They feel like they’re shaking. They’re on their knees, they realize, and try to put their hands down in front of themself to stabilize.

They feel something squelch underneath their hand, hear a wet popping noise. They sit back up, yelping, moving back a bit, then try to see what’s in front of them. Through the blurred dreamscape, they try to make out the silhouette. 

It’s…a body. Oh god, it’s a body, torn open at the stomach, messily and bloodily. They gasp and put their hand on their mouth before feeling a warmth on their lips and screaming. They pull their hand back, hold it in front of them. There’s red and bits of other things smattered across their palm and fingers. They breathe in heavy for a few moments, wiping off their mouth as best they can with their sleeve.

They feel hungry.

There’s no actual physical sensation to tell them that, just an incessant drive in their brain that’s revving louder by the second. They push it back down, try to make sense of whatever’s happening. They put their hands to the person’s sides, crawling over to make out their face. 

It’s…blank. Or unrecognizable. Dream logic, right. No actual facial features to make out, just a wisp of skin and the vague shape of a head. They slowly scan their eyes downward, examining their abdomen’s laceration. 

There’s a lot more yellow in the organs than they expected-everything’s kind of an indiscriminate mass, all oozing with vague vein patterns like dense balloons. They wonder if their own insides look like this too. The drive is getting louder.

It makes sense, right? Of course their brain would change with their body, of course it would demand this eventually. They’ve been able to ignore it with how preoccupied they’ve been with the foundation, but of course it would come for them when they let their guard down.

It’s a dream. It’s fine. How would they have ended up here realistically anyway-what even is this place? And this person-body-they don’t even have a face, so of course this isn’t real. It’s fine, right? There’s no one else here? And they’re already dead-did they kill them? Is it fine, as long as there’s technically no blood on their hands?

They think so.

They take their clean hand, shaking, and move it towards the viscera. They gently lower their hand in, trying not to gag at the feeling of warmth and moisture, praying they don’t feel anything twitch or contract around their hand(It's a dream, of course it wouldn't). They squeeze their hand into a fist and lift out as much as they can, segments of organs dripping various fluids back into the cavity they lifted it from. They slowly pull their arm back to them, an intestine unraveling. They sit with it for a second, blood and gore dripping onto their legs. Their vision blurs, face heating up, cavern within them growing larger and larger by the second. Their stomach isn’t growling, though. It feels like that piece of them is gone, evolved and expanded throughout their body, like their hunger is them now. Like it’s all that’s left of them.

It hurts. They can feel it in their core, brain, heart, all aching for something. It’s this. This is what will fix you. They’re so sure of it, that truth, scrawled across their new DNA. All they’ve got to act on now is instinct and the handful of whatever poor soul ended up in front of them.

They just barely get to whisper the first syllable of “sorry” before they bite directly into the mass, blood flooding down their mouth and hands. It’s chewy, at least with their new teeth. They think they hit a bone or something else hard at some point, but they just keep eating, decimating whatever was there. Something in them slides into place, an internal mechanism finally, finally fixed, able to work again. It’s like they can feel their heart beating after losing their pulse for so long.  They use their other hand to wipe off their mouth, but that barely does anything considering how much of this person’s viscera ended up all over them-the motion only really spreads more of it around. They put their hand over their mouth, finish chewing, swallow-

And god , it tasted good .

Something cracks in their head, and they jolt up, breathing hard. Their mouth is dry(thank god), and they’re perfectly safe and fine and have no blood or tissue underneath their claws. They didn’t hurt anyone and their hands are clean and dry and-

Clyde’s looking at them. They can see it’s orange eyes glowing from their peripheral, curious.

“Are you okay?” It asks. They breathe quick, trying to deconstruct what they just saw. 

“I-No.” They say, looking off to the side, grasping their shirt in a fist. 

“Something new?” It asks.

“No, I just…” They hold that in the air. “...really bad nightmare.”

“...about?” It asks. 

“I think I…” Oh god, it felt like a death sentence to even say it. They grab their face with their hands, pull their knees up and into their chest. It was always going to happen eventually, but now that it’s here, it’s impossible to ignore. They were so sure now, they needed it more than anything. It was carnal , squirming around in them, alive and clawing at their organs. They were actively fighting off the urge to make use of their claws to incise their own stomach to rip it out. It buzzed and ached, like someone shoved a cicada in between their organs. They unfold their body as much as they can, try to make space for it, move a little closer to the edge of the bed, Clyde staring intently. They’re nearly directly above it now, looking straight down. It’s hand rests on the edge of the bed, patient. They take a few more deep breaths in.

“I think I’m hungry.” They whisper. They barely get to see Clyde’s eyes widen before two sharp pains push up right near their scalp, immediately stealing their attention from their other predicament. They yelp and curl back in again, grappling around their forehead. They feel Clyde climb up to them, feel it’s hands try to move their hair back.

“Oh shit uh-what do you need?” They hyperventilate for a few seconds before they can get the words out.

“Pressure.” They say, and Clyde wraps its arms around them and squeezes. They’ve had a few growth spurts ever since their initial acceptance-it always ended eventually, but god did it hurt in the moment. Best they could do is grit their teeth and bear it the best they could. That, and hope tylenol still worked on whatever biology they had now. They clench their teeth together, breathe in and out the best they can, press their face into Clyde. They curl their fingers inward, anything to relieve whatever’s happening to their skull. 

It’s either a few minutes or an hour, they can’t tell, but the pain subsides into a dull throbbing rather than a sharp stabbing. Their breathing slows, Clyde loosens it’s grip. They raise their hands again, feel around for a change. Two small points, right at their forehead. They protrude about an inch outwards, sharp at the ends with a small diameter. They feel blood running down their face. They wipe it off, look at their hand. They can’t tell what color it is in the dark.

“Hmm.” They say. “Horns?”

A moment passes. “Looks like it.” Clyde says shakily.

“Great.” They try to stay lighthearted, fake a laugh. “And of course they’re too far forward to cover with my hair.” Clyde stays silent. They drop their hands to their lap and look down. “I could start wearing a hat?” They suggest as a joke.

“You…” It starts, and then the words die. “Alex, I don’t want to scare you.”

They laugh at that, “I just had the grossest nightmare of my life and then grew horns .” They whisper. They fidget with their nails, picking at non-existent remnants. “What?”

“If you want to keep going with the job-” It takes a shuddering breath in. “You’re going to have to be so careful. You can never let your guard down now. You’ll always need to be focused on yourself.” 

They nod. “I know, I just-”

“Please, can we just…” It gestures with their hands. “Run in there? Take out as many as we can, get him out?”

They close in on themself, bring their knees up and hug them. “I just found out that my hallucinations work on Lankmann. That at least means he’s still human.”

“So why can’t we-”

“Because, if he’s definitely human, we still don’t know about the caretakers.” Alex replies. “Why would he not have some sort of backup or protection? And the way you described Winfrey, why would he…” They think for a second. “...not do anything to get out? We have no idea if he’s brainwashed or something.”

Clyde’s eyes widen, it stays silent for a second. “You’re right. I just…I’m impatient.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll keep poking around as best as I can.”

“Please.” Clyde says, meek. “I…” It wraps its arms around itself in a hug. “I miss him.”

They nod, and unfurl themselves, wiping the rest of the blood off their face. “I know. I’ll get you two reunited again, I promise.” It nods, keeping itself secure.

There’s a part of them that really just wants to do what Clyde suggests, knocking out every stupid motherfucker in that facility and getting its partner back. But god, the risk of getting to him and he’s compliant or is hurt, and they can’t fix it? That was so much worse, having him right there in front of the two of them, but so, so far away. The imagined look on Clyde’s face scratches at their heart. 

They want that, and maybe to also rot away in this house forever. Get its partner back and then lock themselves away where they can’t crack someone’s ribs open. Maybe find out what the Veldigun’s weakness is and drive a knife directly into it. Leave their body directly in their house with no relatives or close friends or anyone who would ever think “Hmm, I haven’t seen Alex around lately.” A haunting discovery eventually, a skeleton so mangled and misshapen, the people who discovered it would invent a legend about it’s owner. Maybe they’d get stories about them, have local teenagers lying about seeing them flying around, crawling on roofs, stalking through the woods. Maybe they’d live on a lot longer whether they wanted to or not.

Whatever. They would have a lot of time to figure that out. Right now, they had a goal and someone they couldn’t disappoint. So, while they wanted to stay inside their place far away from anyone who could’ve even remotely look like who they just devoured(which basically included everyone ever), they said;

“How about I test out hiding these tomorrow? I need groceries anyway.” They suggest. It nods.

“Sure. You can just lie about it being for Halloween if anyone asks.” They both laugh a little.

“Yeah, it is that time of year, huh.” They look off to the side. “I think I can be okay, even with…” They gesture to themselves. “...all this.” Liar.

It nods in response. “Do you still, um…” It points to its own stomach. They take a few breaths in.

“I think it’s gone now. Thankfully.” They laugh before remembering what it had said earlier. “Don’t ask me if I want to.” I don’t know what my answer would be now , they don’t say. 

“Okay.” Clyde responds mercifully. They stretch their arms above their head, take a deep breath in. They want it to stay, maybe ease the aching emptiness in them. Give them another less panicked hug, something they can rest in, breathe in without the feeling of imploding. …but god, the guilt was overwhelming. They drop their hands to their lap, and go to lay back down. They feel the A/C acutely on their skin.

Thankfully, it needed the same thing.

“I’m staying up here.” It says, firm. They hold their hand over their mouth, hiding a faint smile, and nod. It situates itself under the blanket, lies down on its side, careful to not tear up their sheets with it’s back spines. It faces them for a second, then its eyes dart off to the side.

Alex puts their hand on it’s head, tries to bring it closer. It makes eye contact with them for a second before slowly wrapping its arms around them and burying its face in their chest. They pull it in, try to pet it’s head the same way it did to them.

They wonder if it can hear their heartbeat.

It does.