forum “You are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful... something not everybody knows how to love.”// No more people please // OcxOc

Started July 17, 2021 by @michael_rainer_eats_uranium group

tune

The Ink Spots. He'd remember that name.

At Ender's observations, however, he waved a dismissive hand. "Heard that before," he mumbled. "It's nothing big. I'm human."

Pogo fell silent, debating on whether or not to share his burden with Ender. He decided against it. If he informed Ender of their existence, they might take that as a prompt to be more… engaged. He had to keep them quiet.

"Or, as human as I can be," he joked, chuckling to himself. "Being able to see ghosts is wild. They only interact with me when I talk to them, but I guess just being around them leaves me with more ghastly vibes. I'm no ghost myself, though. 100% flesh and blood, right here."

“….hm….cool.” He held up the gas mask. “Do you….know what this is? I found it a few months ago, after the Bad Men came….” Ender was starting to grow attached to him already, and his voice calmed him a little. He wondered if he was developing feelings for him. He had never even had a friend, let alone a lover, so he couldn’t tell, but he knew that he liked Pogo’s company. He began to get lost in his thoughts, thinking up all sorts of scenarios involving him, and his mind wandered to romance. He turned away, pretending to look at a newspaper article, so Pogo wouldn’t see the blush creeping onto his face.

Pogo, on the other hand, was oblivious to Ender's feelings, and if he had any feelings of his own, he couldn't articulate them. He himself wasn't unfeeling or uninterested, no… just afraid. He couldn't be close to anyone. They wouldn't let him.

"Oh, that?" he piped up, his attention caught by the gas mask Ender held up. "That's a gas mask. You wear it so you can breathe in an environment usually not all that safe to breathe in, ya know?"

The more he thought about it, however, the more his brow furrowed. "Have you… never seen one before?"

He shook his head. “I think I’ve seen them on the Bad Men…..but otherwise….no….”

Pogo frowned.

"Not at all?"

He took off his satchel and sat it beside him on the couch, opening it and shuffling through it.

"I was about to ask if you've ever left this place, but given you don't know how to get out of here, I'm guessing you haven't. Have you at least… interacted with the outside world? Gotten a glimpse of society?"

“….only a few times…..to the furniture store a bit down the road…..the only way I get there is on Mothman’s back, since he can fly and all….” Ender stared at the ground. “I collect little bits and pieces of things from the outside…..” He gestured to the trinkets and litter.

Pogo's gaze followed Ender's gesture, then returned to his task. Where'd he put it? He should probably be more organized with his things.

"Has it… always been like this? Just you and this 'Mothman'?"

He nods. “…yeah….I can’t remember anything else….”

"Then, here."

There it was. He felt a smooth, metallic exterior in the pouch his hand was currently digging through. He pulled it out, revealing a well-kept genuine silver compass attached to a small chain.

Pogo got up from the couch, approached Ender, and held out the compass.

"I want you to have this. It's a compass. I don't know much about it other than that it was my father's, and I don't know much about him, either… but what I like about the compass is that no matter where you are in the world, the compass can always show you where north is."

He chuckled sheepishly to himself. He wasn't super good at being sentimental.

"It's… something of a comfort for me, I guess. It's why I never worry when I get lost, 'cause I'll always know when I'm facing north. Maybe this compass will encourage you to explore a bit more, huh?"

Ender’s eyes sparkled, and he grinned with glee. No one had ever given him a gift before, besides the occasional carcass left at the entrance of the bunker by the mutated crows, as an odd symbol of gratitude for leaving them food scraps. He tried to hold back his excitement, but it was very clear that he was absolutely ecstatic. It was shiny, and the chain made a nice sound when it clinked against itself, and it was just perfect.
“….thank you….so….so much….” He was so happy that he ended up going into his true form and began shaking his fists around excitedly, like a child when they win a prize at a fair.

Pogo smiled. It made him happy to see Ender happy — and he was happy, right up until he felt his thoughts thicken once more.

You're almost in denial at this point, sneered the voice. You keep telling yourself you don't like the guy, and yet you give him the damn compass.

I don't think I asked for your opinion, Pogo sighed.

Yeah, well I'm giving it anyway. Wait till he finds out about the little parasite you let into your brain. You're no cryptid, no human, no ghost, not even a demon.

I am human, asserted Pogo. You're not. That's the difference.

Humans don't have—

Pogo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small container of salt, pouring the contents into his mouth like it was a shot of liquor. He grimaced. He hated the taste of salt, but what mattered was that they hated it even more.

The subsequent pained gasping and sputtering from them was hard to ignore, but when they fell silent, he could rest knowing it'd be a while before they came back.

He clenched his jaw, a forced smile plastered across his face that softened into something more genuine as he turned his attention back to Ender.

"Honestly, when you're not in your funky eyeball form, you pass pretty well for a human. Maybe you could go out into the city sometime, yeah? Just gotta make sure you don't change in front of people."

He nods, noticing that something seemed a little off. All of his eyes were fixed on him, trying to decipher what the problem was.

something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong

He began to panic, but was determined to hide it from him. He crawled (it was closer to a bug-like skitter than a crawl) out of the bunker and up a tree, where he curled up and trembled.

what if I can’t help what if I make it worse what if I can’t help what if I make it worse what if I can’t help what if I make it worse what if I can’t help what if I make it worse what if I can’t help what if I make it worse

He began to cry. Inklike liquid dripped from all of his hundreds of eyes, falling and forming a puddle under the tree, staining the grass black.

"Wha- Ender? Hey! What happened?" Pogo called after the panicking creature, staggering out of the bunker and, in a moment of carelessness, hitting his forehead on the top of the door frame. He cursed, rubbing the sore spot, before turning his focus to the scenery. Ender was nowhere to be found.

"God damnit," he hissed, irritation seeping through the cracks in his voice. "I should'a downed that salt so much earlier. Can't have one functioning relationship without my conscience deciding their favorite hobby is screwing my life up."

No response from the voice this time, not that he expected one.

"Ender? Where'd you go?" he called, the effort required to project his voice straining his already raspy throat.

He searched the surrounding area, desperately trying to locate his friend, until a foot planted itself into a dark, viscous substance. His lip curled in disgust, and he recoiled.

Another drop of the substance splattered onto his head, causing him to look upwards.

".. Ender..?"

Ender looked more like a mass of eyes and ink than a humanoid shape at this point, and was sobbing in a similar way to a dying animal. He wanted to use his hands to block his tears from landing on Pogo, but didn’t have the willpower to move.

I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE I’M MAKING IT ALL WORSE

He curled up tighter, his anxiety consuming him whole. He was trembling so hard that he was vibrating the whole tree, and the puddle under him had grown.

What could he do?

Think, Pogo, think…

… He couldn't think of anything.

He grit his teeth. It's not like he had any other choice.

"If you think I'm angry with you, I'm not!" he called out, voice breaking with the effort. "I just… it's a really long story, but I've got another guy in my head I've gotta put up with because of some deal I made a long time ago, and they're an annoying bastard, and they don't let me do anything without finding some way to be a hindrance, and I just…"

He rubbed his temples, taking a deep, deep breath.

"I-It's not you. It's me. Literally."

He curled up tighter.

YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM YOU CAN’T HELP HIM USELESS USELESS USELESS USELESS USELESS USELESS USELESS USELESS USELESS USELESS USELESS USELESS USELESS USELESS USELESS

He couldn’t hear what he was saying anymore, only his deafening thoughts. He let out a guttural screech to try to drown it out, but his thoughts only got louder.

YOU COULD NEVER HELP ANYONE YOU COULD NEVER HELP ANYONE YOU COULD NEVER HELP ANYONE YOU COULD NEVER HELP ANYONE YOU COULD NEVER HELP ANYONE YOU COULD NEVER HELP ANYONE YOU COULD NEVER HELP ANYONE YOU COULD NEVER HELP ANYONE YOU COULD NEVER HELP ANYONE YOU COULD NEVER HELP ANYONE YOU COULD NEVER HELP ANYONE MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK

He began scratching at his eyes, like he was trying to remove them.

No response.

Maybe Ender wasn't here? And he was just… spilling his life story to some tree.

He sighed. Wouldn't be the first ti—

The shriek was loud. Loud. He cupped his hands over his ears, but it was too late. He dropped to his knees, gritting his teeth as he fought through the ringing in his ears. His breathing grew quick, then it stopped, then it continued as the pain ebbed away, the violent ringing dialing back to a distant sound.

Well, that wasn't fun. He rubbed a temple, a broken sigh finding its way out of him. Ender was most definitely here, but it seemed like he wasn't getting through to him.

He didn't know what else he could do, so he sat, his back pressed against the trunk of the tree, and he waited. When he was in a tight spot, he found that waiting it out was usually the way to go. Bad things never lasted forever.

Ender kept scratching at his eyes. He fell out of the tree, only a few yards away from Pogo. He was damp with his tears, and landed with a sound somewhere between a thump and a splat. About 10 of his eyes had been scratched out, and were now only bloody holes in his skin. His blood was thicker than his tears, but the same color. He laid on the ground, shaking, still trying to scratch out more eyes.

FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK FREAK

The sound of Ender falling from the tree startled Pogo, and he leapt to his feet. The conglomeration of eyes and liquids before him was incomprehensible — and unnerving. He couldn't tell what was going on or what was happening, other than whatever it was probably wasn't good.

Before he became conscious of his actions, he found himself taking a few steps backwards. He felt sick. Probably from all the pure salt he ingested, he reasoned.

But his hand, the one he found he was holding out in front of him, began to blur.

What to do? What to do? The salt didn't work? Why didn't the salt work? It usually worked, it…

His steps backward became less coordinated and more frantic, a panicked energy seizing him. He turned, and he ran.

He ran as fast as he could, as far as he could, until he lost his stamina and adrenaline wasn't enough to sustain him. He collapsed onto the forest floor, gasping for air, a hand clutching at his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

He kept replaying that scene. Ender, an unrecognizable mess on the ground, and his hand, a blurry mess in front of him.

But… had his hand really blurred? He took the salt, he…

It took a moment for him to realize, but there were tears streaming down his face. He didn't know what was going on, and it was all starting to become overwhelming.

He continued scratching out his eyes, unable to comprehend anything that happened outside of his head.

YOU SCARED HIM OFF YOU SCARED HIM OFF YOU SCARED HIM OFF YOU SCARED HIM OFF YOU SCARED HIM OFF YOU SCARED HIM OFF YOU SCARED HIM OFF YOU SCARED HIM OFF MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER MONSTER

He scratched out his final eye, and his thoughts went quiet. Everything felt numb. He couldn’t see. He tried to drag himself to where he remembered Pogo stood, but couldn’t find him. His panic began to subside, and was replaced by numbness. He went back into his human form, and lied on the ground in defeat.

His clothes were damp with his tears, and he was covered in blood. There were hundreds of open wounds all over his body, most of which were about a centimeter deep. He still couldn’t see. He laid there, numb.

It began to rain. He just lied there, rain falling into the holes that he scratched into his body.

Rain. He would have laughed at the timing if his chest didn't hurt from running.

Pogo sat up, drawing a sleeve across his face to wipe the tears away. What was that all about? He wasn't someone to run away like that.

He held out his hand. No blurring.

He rubbed his face with his hands, taking a deep breath. Well, no problem. He could find his way back.

Pogo got to his feet, glancing around at the new environment. The rain made it hard to see, and the murkiness of the earth erased any trace he might have left on his way here.

Maybe this was going to be a little bit of a problem.

Lost, are we? rasped the voice, clearly still recovering from the whole salt ordeal. And you gave the creep your compass. Look where that got you.

"If it's anyone's fault, it's yours," he grumbled.

Mine? Well, who was the fellow to let me in to begin with, hm?

Pogo hovered a hand over his pocket, and the broken cackling in his head suddenly died down.

Alright, sheesh. You're lost, that sucks. But, I've got perks. I remember the way back. I remember a lot of things, and I can use my memory to get us back to that bunker if you'll just—

"I'm not letting you take over. That's a non-negotiable."

Take a look around you. You don't have much a say in what should or shouldn't be negotiated.

"And it'll be the hill I die on, mark my words. I'll find a way back by myself."

Mhm. Good luck with that.

Pogo grumbled vehemently to himself, turning around and starting off in the direction from which he was pretty sure he came. Either he'd find Ender, or Ender would find him, right? These woods couldn't be too big.

After a few minutes, he started dragging himself in the direction he was facing. Pogo must’ve gone that way, right? He couldn’t stand, so he clawed at the ground, leaving a trail of inky blood behind him. It began to mix with the newly forming mud, and darkened the soil and grass. He grunted in anguish as the grass below him scraped against his open wounds, and the polluted rain stung the holes in his back. His arms were hurting like hell, but he kept going. There wasn’t a single thought going through his head.
He felt around in his pocket for the compass, and gripped it tightly.

Pogo was still walking.

You're going to get even more lost at this point! groaned the voice. Or you'll end up outside of the woods entirely, which would be the best case scenario if our stuff wasn't back at the bunker!

"Why are you so adamant about leaving? I thought cryptids were "fun people" to you."

That thing isn't a cryptid. I was absolutely astonished you didn't even know what a cryptid was. Mothman, Bigfoot, the Kracken, the Loch Ness Monster? Those are cryptids. I don't know what the hell eyeball critter is.

"I don't care what he is. He hasn't tried to hurt me. He's just… strange. It's probably been a while since he's interacted with a human."

Did you forget already why you ran in the first place?! It absolutely flipped its shit!

"I ran," snarled Pogo, "because I thought you had taken over. He didn't do anything. He doesn't know you exist, so if I looked pissed, he probably took it as being pissed at him."

You can't lie to me, Alessandro; I'm literally your thoughts. He scared you. If I had taken over, I wouldn't have let you run.

Pogo didn't respond. For a long while, conversation remained stagnate. He hugged himself. The wind coupled with what he was pretty sure wasn't entirely rain left him shivering. He hoped he'd find the bunker soon.

He continued to crawl, the blood tinting his hair grey as the rain beat down on his bleeding back. He was only about 10 yards from the bunker. It started to get harder and harder to move.

i scared him away. i should have known this would happen. no one stays. i’m a monster. i’m unlovable. why don’t i just give up? there’s no place for me here.

Mutated vultures circled around him, letting out caws that sounded more like screams. He couldn’t muster the energy to yell back at them.

why does it matter?

just give up.

He lost consciousness, and the vultures cawed louder.

"… How long has it been..?"

Keeping track of time isn't one of my abilities.

Pogo pursed his lips. It was as if no matter how far he walked, the woods stayed the same. He didn't feel like he'd actually gone anywhere.

You're thinking about taking the offer.

"… Do you promise to take us back to the bunker? Nothing else?"

Sure, if it gets us out of this place faster.

Pogo hesitated.

Oh, come on, Al. What's the worst I could do with your body?

"A lot of things," he grumbled. "Alright, Kapnos. But if you pull any shit, I'm taking a salt bath when we get back."

Fine, fine.

Pogo's eyes opened, revealing a familiar silvery red, and the outline of his body began to blur. His gaze, now keenly acute, studied its surroundings.

Gods help Pogo. He'd gone a completely different direction than the way to the bunker.

Kapnos dug a heel into the ground, tensed, then broke into a sprint in the direction of the bunker.

---

It took a few minutes, but the bunker had become within their sight — as well as a few interesting-looking birds that circled a battered man beneath them. Kapnos stumbled to a halt, squinting as they tried to make out the scene before them.

What's going on over there? Pogo asked tentatively.

"Nothing I can see," muttered Kapnos. "But those birds don't look like good news."

They approached the figure, eyes widening as they realized who the crumpled creature on the ground was.

"This your freaky eye-man?"

Ender? What… what the hell happened?

"I don't have a clue, let's just… shoo! Get out of here!" Kapnos hissed, waving violently at the vultures above Ender.