#worm fic

Absolution by Quantumsheepery

Splicer by Draconic (art by Abyranss)

Operation: B.U.T.T.E.R.F.L.Y. by NullenVoid (art by Stardust-Firelight)

Denial by Nara'la

Trillium Waltz by Idiom Alpha

Intercession by VigoGrimborne (but specifically from this deleted scene)

Exodus by Ld1449

Now Entering Spoiler Territory! (for Visitors from Afar and Desparate Times)

Visitors from Afar / Voyagers from Afar by Fabius Maximus

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Pleasures by R3NN41SS4NC3 (and piperfurby?)

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Past:

[4] (With 3 votes) Your name is Nicole Grant.

You weren't born with that name but you choose it. And you kept it close to your heart. 

You were born even deeper in the south. A small town in the middle of Texas, small enough not to be in any maps, big enough to feel isolated in it.

Your father had you and your siblings homeschooled and working at the farm. 

Which meant that your days were divided between grueling work at the shitty understaffed farm ran for generations by your family until your grandpa ran it to to ground, long tirades were your father taught you all about 'real life' and nights were your family sat around your old box tv seeing your dad's favourite new's channels and tv shows, shows about manly men doing manly things and making hard choices.

By the age of 10 you already knew why the blacks were the cause of droughts, latinos stole the missing cows and jews made the farm fail.

By age 12 you already had instilled in you your father's work philosophy. If you aren't bleeding from your hands, if you don't pass out then you aren't doing enough.

By age 14 you already knew it was all bullshit.

Maybe it was seeing your older brother fall and break his leg very badly, maybe it was your dad refusing to go to the hospital, maybe it was how everyone shrugged it off. 

How your brother started dealing with chronic pain from the badly healed fracture. How you saw the spark on his eye just leave.

If this was the reward of being a dutiful son... you stopped trying.

You did the bare minimum. Just doing the least you can as you feel drifting away. 

You did as asked nothing more and nothing less, you numbed through your fathers rants towards you and others.

You didn't notice that that isolation pushed you into a pit of depression until a while later. But for a while that was the routine. Wake up, do what you were asked and then stay by your lonesome.

As you drifted from your family, so did your schedule, thinking by yourself.

After a while you figured out when they weren't using the tv and got to see it by yourself. It was like a whole opened.

Yes you did watch some trashy reality shows and some unfunny comedies, but they were your choice. 

And one day you saw her on the news. Saving people and giving an speech alongside. 

The cameras focused so much more on the man wearing white and blue spandex, but you could only focus on her.

She seemed so happy, so free. Her name was Galatea and she opened the doors to a flood of questions it took you a while to answer.

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Now

You ran away. To start a new life, to live as yourself.

You got a shitty job that asked no questions and got the money.

You started renting your own place, buying your own clothes.

You were planning on saving money, maybe you could start treatment, or go to college. The doors of those oportunities were finally open.

Now that life was going to end before it started.

You never got to tell anyone that mattered the name you chose.

Would they use your deadname for your funeral?

Were you even going to have a funeral?

Did it even matter?

The rotting carcass of your last hope was going to bite off your jugular. If this Myrmidon guy was like this… was Galatea even alive?

You black out for an instant, and you see the stars.

You trigger.

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For a fraction of a second you feel something approach you in the void. 

It’s not a full thing, just an immense fraction of a being bigger than your mind can comprehend. What is it?

[1] A clear glass-esque thing with thousands of appendages and no clear form beyond that.

[2] a crystalline ball with beaks and wings sprouting from it with no rhyme or reason.

[3] not a presence but the lack of one, like a hole in reality sucking everything that surrounds it.

[4] a liquid wave of frantic eyes looking all around you, they have different colors and shapes

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