My G/T OC blog!

One one hand, I’ve been reading a lot (read: too much) of the work of @delimeful, @arc852, and @hiddendreamer67 lately, and I’ve been thinking about writing my own infinitessimal!sides au. What I have in mind would be essentially a mish-mash of Delimeful’s WIBAR au and Arc and Mandy’s Perspectives Series. Both are really amazing reads, I would highly recommend them to anyone interested, and reading them is what actually made me want to write my own story in the first place. I don’t really have much more than the basic concept and some early plot down, so I don’t know how long this one would be, 

On the other hand, I was thinking I might write a story based wholly on characters I would myself create. This one would center around a group of humans who are trying to fight their way back to their home after being stolen and sold into slavery. The issue here would be that I don’t really have a knack for writing characters in the first place (there’s a reason that I wrote my angst story entirely in first person with nonspecific descriptions of the characters). I have a more refined outline for this story, and it would be around 14 chapters long, spread over 4 acts.

In either case I would write the story out before I begin posting, meaning I probably wouldn’t start posting until at least around the end of the month, if not the new year. I would post one chapter every week, until the story is finished. In the mean time I would work on one offs and prompts, posting those as I finish them.

Another monotonous day finished, the drab lull of dreamless sleep awaiting. I climbed into my home with my bag of ill-gotten goods, not anything important or that would be noticed, mind you, just what I need to get by.

It seemed like pickings were getting worse and worse. He couldn’t know about me, could he? No, that would be impossible. I’ve taken every precaution to make sure I’m nothing more to him than a few missing crumbs and a misplaced pin here and there.

I curled up in my bed, the slow creaking of the house around me of little comfort. I can’t keep going like this, I thought as I heard the floorboards creak outside the wall and reflexively tensed. He was moving about.

Eventually, the noise died down, and the emptiness took hold, both outside the wall and in my head. It felt like my chest was collapsing, a gap forming between my lungs. I curled up tighter than before, trying to defend my feeble body from this unknown assailant, until sleep’s relieving bliss took hold.

I awoke with a start, the buzzing cacophony of his alarm carrying easily into my home between the walls. I opened my eyes and checked the watch face I had mounted to the wall. 6:45, same as always. I sighed and slumped out of bed, the day ahead seeming to be a repeat of the last, and the day before, and the day before, the monotony carrying back as far as I could remember. I couldn’t take it anymore, this had to stop. 

I checked that the coast was clear as I emerged from the hole I had made behind the refrigerator, I heard nothing other than the usual ambient hum. I walked out onto the countertop, much farther out than I would usually dare to go, the threat of being seen far too great of a motivator. Now, all of that was out the window, as I reached the edge of the counter.

I looked down to the floor from my precarious position, the drop seeming to be sufficient for my needs. “I can’t really be considering this, can I?” I couldn’t help but begin to second guess myself, the idea of ending it all simultaneously tantalizing and terrifying.

I started towards the edge, and froze. There was a creaking noise, just around the corner. He emerged into view, thankfully having not noticed me, to busy checking something on his phone. I slowly began to edge my way back to safety, when he entered the room and looked up for a second, taking a double take as he caught a glimpse of me. I hauled ass toward the hole behind the fridge. Thankfully, he didn’t follow me, probably dismissing me as some sort of hallucination. 

“Shit, that was waaaaay too close,” I was short of breath as I entered my room once more. A moment’s hesitation, and I would have been seen. In all my 22 years, that was the closest I’ve ever been to being caught. The day may have been young, but it had already ended for me. Everyone knows nothing but trouble comes from being seen by humans. I decided to spend the rest of the day in the wall, watching him move around from one room to the next. He eventually decided to lie down, and I knew it was time to go out for the night. 

I emerged from a different hole, this one located behind his dresser, a list of what I needed kept safe in my head. I went about, grabbing what little I had to get, until I was finished, ready to head back. I was on his nightstand, having climbed up there to grab something from its drawer.

I gazed across at him, his form gently shifting around as he slept. For some unknown reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. A small voice was urging me to stay, to keep gazing. Maybe it was that same voice which had urged me to jump earlier, one clearly not concerned for my personal safety. Perhaps it was some sort of strange fascination with this human, but whatever the motivation, I felt that I had to get closer to him.

I gave myself a running start and leapt across the divide between his nightstand and his bed. I landed with a tumble, thankfully it didn’t rouse him. I walked across the bed, taking in the view. His arm was draped over the side of the bed, dangling as a heavy object would from a crane.

I clambered over his shoulder and continued for a short time further, stopping in my tracks. I could see his chest rise and fall with each breath, a rhythmic reminder that the vast slope which confronted me was, in fact, a living creature. I endeavored to climb this living mountain, and pass unnoticed. Why I felt the need to, I hadn’t the faintest clue, but I went ahead regardless.

I clambered up on top of the blanket, and began to traverse the expanse, an uneasy feeling spreading from my ears. I knew instinctively what it meant: trouble. I tensed in anticipation, but only saw him slightly stir in his sleep. I relaxed, and then his hand came down on top of me.

The fleshy appendage had moved from its resting place at the side of the bed to lying on his chest, pinning me there with a weight I couldn’t hope to lift. I was trapped. I couldn’t move, I could barely breathe, and I was pretty sure that this would be the end of me. I felt the rise and fall of his chest, like a boat upon a gentle sea, I felt the gentle thumping of his heart far beneath me, a rhythm to lull me to sleep. All of a sudden I was… I was… I wa… I .  .  .

Shit. 

I feel asleep, dammit! I’m dead. He’s gonna see me, and crush me under his boot or something, I don’t know. All I knew was that my minutes left on this world were numbered. I looked about my surroundings, I was still covered by his hand, he was still in bed, but now he was awake. Not only was he awake, but he was looking me dead in the eye.

I began to struggle. I didn’t chicken out of killing myself only to be killed by him the very next day! I managed to pry myself from his grasp, and began to book it. He scrambled to catch me, but I had a head start on him, I was already sliding off the bed while he was wrestling with his sheets to get off himself. I was running faster than I ever had before, the sheer adrenaline rush of the chase fueling me to travel at unsafe speeds. 

It wasn’t enough, though. He was closing, fast. I had nowhere to run, I was trapped. He backed me slowly into a corner where he loomed menacingly overhead. When he finally spoke, it was in a voice not dissimilar to my own, albeit much louder. “What… are you?”

I curled up into a ball in the corner, ready yet unwilling to accept my inevitable demise. I began to slowly shake, quiet sobs quaking through my body. He saw my body shake, the small noises I was making and he saw my face, absolutely terrified. His eyes widened, his own face contorting into one of fear and disgust- contempt for what he had done.

I seized my opportunity and ran again. It was only a short distance now, and he was still shocked by what he had done. “Nononono wait wait wait!” I heard him call as I disappeared into one of my many holes. I slumped against the wall, and heard a loud thump as it seemed like he did the same.

“I’m sorry little guy,” I heard him speak through the wall, directly to me, “I didn’t realize how freaky this has got to be for you. I didn’t want to hurt you, I saw you yesterday, on the counter. You looked miserable. I looked up again and you were gone.”

I had no words for him, he might as well walk away. 

“I just wanted to meet you… I couldn’t even do that right.” I heard something well up in his voice, something I had never before detected, not in all the times he had spoken, despair. “It’s not like I can do anything else, all I seem to do is fuck things up…” I heard him get up, and slowly walk away. “I’m sorry little guy. I’ll leave you alone. You probably don’t want me around, most people don’t.”

His footsteps faded. I felt something I had not felt in a long time, kinship. Here I was, feeling isolated, alone, worthless, and there he stood, saying the same things I had been telling myself for ages. I emerged from my home and moved in the direction I had heard him go. I ended up in his bedroom, his form taking up a different shape on the bed from normal. He was curled up in a ball, much like what I do when the hopelessness sinks in. He was quivering slightly, soft sobs audible from beneath the blanket he had wrapped himself in.

I ascended the bed and looked at him, poor soul, in the same position I had found myself in many, many times before. I slowly approached his shaking form and placed a hand on him, trying to reassure him. Eventually I leaned my whole body against him, embracing what little I could in an attempt to comfort him.

He felt the small presence on his back and rolled around to face me, tears still steaming down his face. I stood there, and simply leaned against his cheek, taking it into my arms as I comforted him as best as I could.

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