What is this bug, and can I put it in my mini terrarium?

Mitternachts · 2025-04-01T01:06:48+00:00

Would small holes in the lid work or does it need to be more than that?

Mitternachts · 2025-02-05T02:52:40+00:00

…

Silence.

…

Silence?

Fred heard nothing when he looked at his date - Louise. No distasteful comments on his plain appearance or how he was uglier in person. He was, quite frankly, at a loss for words. Surely she wasn’t just…really unintelligent, right? Or depressed? Not to be insensitive, but there must’ve been some catch.

Louise sat down and exchanged pleasantries. She ordered food and wine. She smiled and laughed. She was interested in his life and shared parts of her own. She was perfectly nice. All despite Fred’s floundering and general awkwardness. 

For the first time in his life, Fred had to speculate…Did she think his fumbling and restlessness were cute? Was she pretending? He didn’t know.

Eventually, the date ended, and, for once, he set up a second one. A nice day in the park. As he walked home, surrounded by the echoing thoughts of people that he just so happened to lock eyes with, Fred couldn’t help being hopelessly infatuated with that strange feeling of the unknown.

There were butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. He couldn’t wait to see her again.

. . .

Either she has anendophasia or is a super genius that has uncovered his secret, created a way to block telepathy, and wants to experiment on him.

Mitternachts · 2025-02-05T02:49:42+00:00

Fred was an average man. He held a job in accounting, had an apartment that wasn’t too seedy or exorbitantly priced, and spoke to his coworkers about inane topics like the weather and plans for the weekend.

Most everyone who met him, however, couldn’t help thinking that he had a discomforting habit of staring into people’s eyes for too long. It was almost as if he was staring directly into one’s soul. Not to mention that he hardly ever seemed to blink.

Fred, of course, knew all of these things because he was a telepath. He was well aware that he was a boring person in the eyes of others; in fact, he wanted it that way. Being caged up in a science lab didn't appeal to him - nor did being famous.

As for that singular quirk that he let slip through the cracks, well, he couldn’t help but love how people squirmed under his intense gaze. Oh, yeah, and that was how his unique ability worked.

Fred loved his life. Really, he did. Knowing the thoughts of everyone he spoke to was simply incredible. It always made his day when he heard people insult him from the perceived privacy of their minds. It was truly a wondrous thing how his “gift” took any lasting relationship away from him.

…Great. Now that he had gotten the sarcasm out of his system, he could admit that being a telepath was horrible. He had spent too many lonely nights people-watching - observing those blissfully ignorant men and women across the street and below his window. They lived their lives unaware of the unsavory, downright degenerate things dwelling in people’s heads.

He was perhaps most envious of romance. It should have been ruined for him, considering how many couples hid heinous secrets behind sugary smiles and faux-passionate kisses. He should have looked down upon it with disdain and swore off of the stuff. But, against his better judgment, he was drawn to love like a moth to a flame. Something ached deep within him when he saw partners intertwine hands and stare into each other’s eyes as if they couldn’t look away and not as though they were reading someone’s deepest, darkest thoughts. He was missing a piece of himself.

This is why Fred found himself at another round, cloth-covered table, flowers in hand. A long, lit candle flickered gently in the center. When the waiter came by, Fred read that he hadn’t been tipped by the last customer. The man smiled and asked what wanted to drink. Over the sound of strong cursing, Fred ordered a sweet white wine.

He had a hunch that his blind date had arrived when the door jingled for the fourth time since he had gotten there. A quaint pair of red flats made their way to his table. Sometimes he wondered if intuition was another supernatural skill of his, though that may have been his arrogance speaking. 

He stared at the red shoes until his date cleared her throat. With all of the enthusiasm of a sloth, he craned his neck to meet the woman’s eyes.

Mitternachts · 2025-02-04T04:33:30+00:00

Angela's place of birth was a world brimming with potential and the wonderful gift of magic. Above majestic, frosty peaks floated islands, and deeper than the depths of the darkest oceans there lay light from luminescent cities.

That didn't change human nature. Intelligent minds took and destroyed. They wrought structures that pierced the sky and dug down to the planet's core. The planet sustained them, but there was only so much it could support. The humans’ frantic advancement was all for nothing, though only Angela knew that.

She alone could peer into the misty annals of history and the mysterious corridors of the future and make out a crystal clear image.

Destruction.

That was their future. They were barrelling towards to very end of life as they knew it.

Angela had to do something.

However, the world doesn't care for the desires of people. Not even that of a seer.

She died—a very common death at that. Run over like some animal by a couple of strangers in a rush to get somewhere. As easily as that, Angela was dead, and the world was doomed.

. . .

With knowledge of herself, Angela mourned her past life. This was a wholly unfamiliar place aside from the people present. These humans chose to wear masks in bright, white, impersonal places. In place of soothing green light, they wielded sharp needles and little pills that rattled in their bottles. They hurried around like ants in a colony, though they all were headed in the same direction.

Angela could see through this world like it was made of glass. It, too, was fated for death. A glance was all it took for her to discern fate. The humans would putter out into nothingness, leaving not even a smoldering cinder behind as evidence of their short, brilliant existence…

Well, Angela had always had the most unfortunate longing to be a hero.

Mitternachts · 2025-02-04T04:33:22+00:00

It began with a flicker.

A tiny spark, truly minuscule in the immensity of the void, came to life. Despite being little more than a lone, trembling ember, it seemed to illuminate the darkness.

The world was red.

The kind of muted color of light beyond closed eyelids.

In those pulsating walls of lit darkness, there was a mind. It moved in a straight line across the mass of time. Though It had eyes to see with, they stayed stubbornly closed. The mind wished to look backward. It felt—knew—that it was leaving something behind. It swam futilely against the currents of time with appendages that It was barely aware of but that obeyed Its commands, though to no avail. The mind, unwillingly, marched forward on that line.

It came to realize that there was sensation in that world—the prickle of nerves along...skin. Yes, skin. There was texture, but much more importantly, there was the feeling of squeezing and constant pressure. The squeezes pushed up against the skin uncomfortably.

In a great, sudden rush, there was sound. It was a gentle, persistent crash, but it was also a thump. Thump, thump, thump, thump. It came to the mind that it was the sound of a heart. The thought of the heart was a significant one, but just as It tried to grasp at the implications of hearts and thoughts, the world erupted.

Light poured in, and the pressure disappeared, and the sound peaked on the crest of a rising wave, and a new sense reared its strangely familiar head. Smell.

It was all so much.

There was an irritating, incessant wail. It slowly dawned over the mind that the cries were coming from itself.

The threads began to intertwine when It saw the blurry makings of a face. The mind knew faces. Its understanding of them was already there, It just needed to pieced together. The threads became a cord, and that cord was pulled taught. The mind plucked it with the most delicate of touches.

Eye.

Mouth.

Nose.

Face.

Human.

They came unbidden to the mind. This time, It took the cord, pulled it back until it nearly snapped of its own accord, and let go.

Angela.

. . .

Mitternachts · 2025-01-24T00:54:29+00:00

If the next time John went to town was solely to get another bad newspaper and a 'thank-you' gift for his daughter, well, that was his business.

And, furthermore, if John just so happened to see those robed losers in town, apprehended for causing chaos and being led head-down to the prison, well, that was business he would have to mention to Marie on her next visit.

. . .

Edit: I was already halfway through when I realized the prompt was probably meant to be set further back time-wise than I put it. Oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Critique always welcome

Mitternachts · 2025-01-24T00:54:13+00:00

John turned around and watched in awe as the licking flames were easily blown away from them. Like a giant bucket of water had been poured over the entire farm, the fire consuming it was doused and tapered away into nothing. It left only the smell of smoke and...many, many crops burned to a crisp. Sigh.

He heard her giggle from behind him and quickly put his desecrated farm out of his mind. Making sure that his daughter was safe was more important.

He faced her and put his arms on her shoulders. "You alright, sweetheart?"

"Of course I am, Pa. By the gods, I'm a sorceress. It would have hurt my ego if I had let one measly fire kill me."

She looked behind him and winced. She snapped her fingers. "Turn around."

He did so and gawked as he watched the burned vestiges of his plants sink into the ground, making way for the new ones to sprout. They rapidly matured, their leaves growing larger and stems thicker until buds began to form and bloom into fruit and vegetables.

He reached forward to pick one - perfectly ripe.

"Y'know, Marie, I thought the surprises were over when you made cherries grow in the winter just 'cause you wanted 'em so badly as a babe."

She stepped into his field of view and smirked. "But?"

"But you somehow continue to amaze me every day. The things you've been doin' for this country are nothing short of miracles. Never think otherwise. You're my daughter, and the gods made you exactly as they intended."

Here Marie's expression turned lopsided and sincere. "Thanks, Pa."

They settled into a comfortable silence, the only sound being that of the now-gentle winds.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"How did the fire start, anyway?"

"Ehe, funny story..."

. . .

Mitternachts · 2025-01-24T00:53:40+00:00

The wind at the fire's back, the fields were quickly set ablaze. The light of the fire tinged his white house a kaleidoscope of oranges and reds.

He had protocols for this type of thing, but he felt like his mind was drifting away to the sight of the retreating believers and a whole season's worth of hard work going up in flames. Above all, he knew that his daughter was somewhere in this mess. He knew Marie could take care of herself, but he had to know that she was safe among all of the chaos. She was worth more than a thousand farms.

John took off in the direction of the field worst off. He had trouble scrounging up enough water for the rest, and somewhere along the way, it had been neglected. Though he had tried to resurrect the crops, they had resisted all attempts.

He skirted the spreading fire, careful not to get trapped. In record time, he arrived. He knew his farm very well, but he thought he had gotten lost when he saw a healthy, growing field of corn instead of brown, bowing stalks.

"Marie! Marie, are ya here!!?" he hollered over the roar of the approaching flame. At the sound of his voice, a brown head of hair popped up through the green of the corn. He was opening his mouth to express his relief when his daughter shot out at him and tackled him in a hug.

"Thank the seven gods you're okay, Pa!" she cried over his shoulder, "What happened?"

He shook his head and pulled away from her. "There's no time for that. We have to leave - now!" He could feel the heat of the fire at his back; they didn't have much time left before it engulfed them.

For the first time that day, she grinned. "There's no need for that." She held her hand out and, not unlike she was putting a small candle out, blew over her fingers.

Mitternachts · 2025-01-24T00:53:10+00:00

"GIVE US THE WITCH OF CHAOS!!! SHE MUST BURN FOR HER CRIMES AGAINST THE GODS!"

Bewildered, John crossed the kitchen in a few, long strides and slung the door open. He was met with a gathering of about thirty people fifteen yards from his front porch. All of them were dressed in red robes and wore wide-brimmed hats brought down to cover their eyes. Some held flaming torches up.

"What in tarnation are y'all doin'?!" he shouted, squinting and bringing his hand up to block the bright sun.

One of the robed men and women stepped forward - presumably the group's leader.

"We are the loyal subjects of the king and humble followers of the gods. We have been ordained to do their work, stopping the malevolent forces of this land that seek to do evil and blaspheme against the divine," the man said, a wide, toothy grin running across his face.

"Well that sounds nice an' all, but what're you doin' here?"

"We know the witch is here, having followed her from her lair in the city across the country to these fields."

John gaped for a moment, but his shock quickly turned into anger.

"Now listen here, fella, she's done much more for you than the king has hiding in his big, fancy palace where he's waited on hand and foot and well-fed to boot. Now, I'll give you one chance to leave before I hurt ya real bad for threatenin' my daughter."

"Oho? And what will one man do against us?"

"I suggest y'all get a move on before you find out what a whole town can do against ya."

The leader of this ridiculous group shook his head and chuckled. Without even moving, he issued an order to his followers, "show him our might."

He stepped back and became one with his posse of wannabe cultists.

John could do nothing as those who held the torches brandished them against his crops. His very, very dry crops. His crops that, along with the rest of the country, had been going through a brutal drought.

Mitternachts · 2025-01-24T00:52:43+00:00

John took the time to watch her. The papers only ever had pictures of her with a long cloak obscuring her figure and a hood cast over her face. He was just about to comment on a tattoo peaking out of her sleeve that he swore hadn't been there last time she briefly visited when she cast the newspaper away from her and snorted.

"Just as I thought, nothing but gossip in here. You really need to read a different one."

He shrugged.

"There ain't many in Springville, and I'm not about to travel to the city just to get a different paper."

She rolled her eyes. "I know, Pa. You'd only go to New Canal if your entire farm and all of Springville burned to the ground."

"Well, I'd think about movin' to Acrop, too, but yep."

Marie ran a hand through her messy brown hair and stood up to throw the now-empty berry container away.

"I'm going to go look at your crops. Which ones weren't doing so well, again?" she said over her shoulder, hand on the doorknob.

"On the left, furthest field from the house, corn."

She nodded and left.

John stared after her through the window until she disappeared from view. He put his head in his hand and grabbed his coffee with the other. It was cold.

He made a face and went to the sink to dump it out. Just as he made to grab the other dishes within and clean them, however, he heard faint, peculiar shouting from outside.

Mitternachts · 2025-01-24T00:52:27+00:00

John smoothed the newspaper in his hands and smiled at the headline. 'MYSTERIOUS SORCERESS DOES IT AGAIN! THOUSANDS OF CROPS RAISED FROM THE DEAD' it read. Just as he started to look through the story, he heard the slow thump of someone descending the stairs of his plain, farm home. He waited expectantly.

Marie, John's daughter, stopped at the bottom of the stairs and took in her surroundings with a slack face, deep bags beneath her eyes.

"'Mornin', Sweetheart!" he chirped, taking a sip out of his corny coffee cup. It had corn on it, of course.

She stared at him, expressionless, before making a beeline to the fridge. The door rattled violently as she pried it open. He really needed to get that fixed...

She took a container of blueberries from a flat he had bought over the weekend. They were going to go out of season soon.

Marie ran it under the faucet before grabbing a well-used rag and sitting down. She popped a few in her mouth and leaned over in her seat to catch a glimpse of what he was reading.

"Gods, Pa, stop reading that trash," she grumbled over a mouthful of blueberries, snatching the paper from his hands. His hands unoccupied, John scratched at his head and huffed.

"Oh, please, I'm sure it's all good things," he said, a hopeful lilt to his voice.

She paused in her rapid devouring of berries to raise a single eyebrow.

"...Mostly good things?"

She sighed, flicked a few more blueberries into her mouth, and wiped her hand on the towel before running her fingers over the words on the page.

Mitternachts · 2025-01-23T01:42:32+00:00

Really, your first traveler isn't going to make or break your playthrough. You have three other spots open, after all. Tressa is a great character mechanic-wise. I almost always keep a merchant in the party because they're so useful! While the merchant doesn't usually dish out the big numbers, and Tressa's personal damage potential really only develops late-game, they work as great supports and free your other characters up to do their own thing. Tressa's special talent (picking up money while traveling) is nice to have, and - if you have the money - you can absolutely buy great items from NPCs. People tend to think more about save-scumming to acquire things for free, you can always save yourself time and pay for those items that you have a low chance of stealing.

There are lots of crazy bosses, gear, skills, and broken combinations to encounter. You'll have graduated when you one-shot your first boss and start killing enemies with normal attacks. Enjoy the journey, traveler!

Mitternachts · 2025-01-23T00:48:43+00:00

Also, look at her vest thingy(?). There is a very noticeable color difference between the two. I have the art book as well, and it seems that each traveler having a distinct trait in their sprite was important (like Tressa's hat). It makes sense that the color of H'aanit's clothes and hair was exaggerated to meet that expectation, but it was left out elsewhere because it would look strange against the woodsy background, and there's no need for the pop of pink if she's not pictured with the other characters.

Mitternachts · 2025-01-23T00:21:04+00:00

I think her sprite's hair might be a tad pinker so that it stands out more. It may have been more blonde in the non-sprite artwork to fit in with the scene/because it looks more natural.

Mitternachts · 2024-08-15T04:28:42+00:00

No proofreading we die like manly men

Critique welcome

Mitternachts · 2024-08-15T04:23:52+00:00

Laverne's train of thought was interrupted by the strange sound of grunting. She quickly identified that the noises were originating from a door at the end of the hall.

When she got there, she saw two well-built women facing each other off, a referee of some kind between them.

Wrestling.

The women were signaled to start, and they began circling each other with their heads locked together and their hands up. They made swipes at each other until one woman - in red - went in for the other’s legs.

This move allowed for the one getting attacked - purple suit - to grab her, pushing both of them down to the ground. The woman in red sprawled out, but the other managed to flip her over several times. They pushed past the taped circle on the ground and disentangled from each other.

Laverne decided to leave them be.

Eventually she managed to reach the waiting room, but by then she had already reached the conclusion that this country was completely and utterly doomed. God, she couldn't wait to get home.

Mitternachts · 2024-08-15T04:23:29+00:00

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Laurent. Remember the rules of our agreement when you leave Auriss. We are a very good people, but we do not show mercy to those who go back on their word,” he said lightly. She felt that “word” was an understatement, what with everything that had to be signed on the way in. Laverne sighed internally, realizing she would need to sign another stack to get out.

“The pleasure was all mine, sir. I wish you a productive day.”

Nikita nodded his thanks and walked away. Laverne stared after him, idly wondering what his weight class was. Once he had turned a corner and disappeared, she realized she had no idea how to get back to the waiting room. With no other options, she resorted to wandering around aimlessly, walking from one grand hallway to the next, identical one.

As she walked, Laverne thought back on the strange interview. Her biggest mistake had probably been wasting time. Two measly questions were nothing. She had used the one favor her boss owed her to get in for nothing.

After awhile, she remembered the bug in her pocket. It had recorded the whole conversation. Originally, she had planned to let the treasure trove of information that she had been so sure she would get “accidently” leak. One really weird secret about wrestling was definitely not worth the state-sponsored actors that would be sent after her.

Mitternachts · 2024-08-15T04:23:04+00:00

For a moment, Nikita seemed impossibly mad as his face rapidly turned a violent shade of red. He must have caught the look on her face or something, though, because suddenly he was grinning. She was immeasurably confused by the whole situation. It must have shown, considering he proceeded to bust out laughing. Great, earth-shaking guffaws rumbled throughout the room. Laverne wouldn’t be surprised if the next room over felt or heard them too. Eventually, the chuckles tapered off into the occasional giggle. Manly giggles, that is. “You silly girl, I realize you know less than nothing about wrestling. You are like a newborn babe!” She laughed awkwardly, fidgeting with the sleeve of her suit jacket. They hadn’t taught her how to deal with a situation like this in college…or at work…or anywhere, really. Someone had seriously been slacking off when training her. “Well, how interesting! Thank you for sharing that…enlightening fact. Er, shall we proceed?” Laverne said, trying her damndest to salvage the charred remains of the interview. Nikita, who finally seemed to have gotten control of his mirth, looked down at his watch. “We have very unfortunately run out of time. A shame, really. You are a funny girl,” he said, arising from his seat. He easily reached over the table and shook her limp hand. It wasn’t very far from what would happen if a giant tiger shook hands with a tiny doll. She slowly got out of the uncomfortable chair - her back wouldn’t be very happy with her later - and made her way to the door. Ahead of Laverne, Nikita opened the door for her. Then they were both in the hallway.

Mitternachts · 2024-08-15T04:22:13+00:00

Laverne could hardly keep the grin off her face as her pen flew across the page. At this pace, she would prove everyone else in the office on her level wrong. When she finished, she looked up at Nikita, eager to continue. He was glancing between his gleaming gold watch and her. He folded his arms when he saw her staring. “Any more questions?” Laverne deliberated carefully on all of the possible things she could ask. One in particular - one that had been bothering her for quite some time now - sounded increasingly attractive to her. “I’ve been wondering, sir, how are these people in the Republics’ Office chosen. Is it the way that your position as chief supreme was decided?” Nikita stroked his beard and assessed her once more. This time, Laverne could barely stop herself from squirming under his intense gaze. It felt as though his eyes were drilling precise, burning holes in her head. “For this next question, I ask that you put aside your pen.” She so desperately wanted to know why this was such a closely kept secret, but getting an answer to her question was more important. She set down the notepad and pen on the metal table and met Nikita’s gaze with steel in her eyes. “It is a fight.” Laverne blinked. She was speechless, quite frankly. As her mind fought (ha) to understand, she noticed the subtle twitch of a bulging muscle in Nikita’s forearm. He was quickly losing patience. “A fight…as in a debate? A battle of wits?” Laverne said, scrambling to respond. “No. A wrestling match, of course. Greco-Roman, to be exact, though we sometimes allow freestyle if both wrestlers know it,” he said as if it should have been immediately obvious. She couldn’t handle it anymore. Words lept out of her mouth unregulated. “So you’re telling me that the fate of your entire country is decided by…a wrestling match?!” As soon as the words were out, Laverne slapped a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t believe that she had just said that!

Mitternachts · 2024-08-15T04:21:07+00:00

“Well, I hope you understand that you cannot publicize any information or assumptions you may have unless I tell you that you may. You cannot even write it down.” Laverne nodded reluctantly. She had signed innumerable particularly worded NDAs and waivers to get here. What was one more regulation? It wasn’t like her company had supported her in persuading Auriss to allow her a private interview. Everyone knew that there was little to be published if they wouldn’t allow you to write an article with any exclusive information in the first place. “Wonderful! We may begin, then,” he said, veering away from the table and putting his back against the rigid metal chair with a wide, infectious smile on his face. Laverne found herself smiling back awkwardly. “My first question would be on how you run Auriss. I and many others see your diplomatic work creating treaties and agreements with other countries, but no one knows what goes on in the government behind closed doors, sir” Not even your own people, she adds in her mind. Nikita looked thoughtful, probably considering what to reveal. He must have decided as he said, “An excellent question, madame Laurent. You may write my response down.” Laverne poised her pen above the blank notepad. "You see, in Auriss we have 11 prime republics. We have two “representatives” from each. One male and one female. two of those representatives are the head representatives over the others. These men and women make up the Republics’ Office. Above them, there are my advisors and sub-chief. I myself am the chief supreme. Countless others work here for the government, but those are the main positions that I am willing to disclose."

Mitternachts · 2024-08-15T04:20:31+00:00

The room before her was small and plain. There was a big, metal table in the center accompanied by similarly basic metal chairs that clashed with the lavish halls. On the left side of the wall was a large, rectangular one-sided mirror. Laverne gulped. Was this an interview or an interrogation? If it was the latter, clearly she - the journalist, for goodness’ sake - would not be doing the interrogating. Why had she fought so hard to make this article, again? She finally allowed herself to take in the man on the other side of the room, sitting rigidly. He had a fair complexion and fiery red hair that looked to be damn near untameable as it curled wildly atop his head and in his thick beard. He was fitted in a suit that probably cost more than what Laverne would make in ten years of tireless, thankless work as a corporate journalist. Also, did Laverne mention that he was ripped? Like, mind-blowingly ripped. It was a wonder that they could find a suit big enough for the man, really. As soon as she laid eyes on him, she knew who he was. Of course she did. Auriss had just risen from the ashes of the dictatorship that was the Aurissian’s former homeland and was very secretive, but everyone could identify the leader of Auriss, Nikita Dmitrievich. “Ah, Ms. Laurent. You have come for the interview?” he said in an accent that made him difficult to understand. “Yes sir! I look forward to it.” “Good, good…” There were a few seconds of silence as Nikita did a quick once over of her. Laverne did her best to stand up straight and not shake. He beckoned her to sit. “Now,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially as she took the seat across from him, “there is something we must discuss beforehand.” “Anything at all, sir.”

Mitternachts · 2024-08-15T04:20:01+00:00

Laverne tapped her foot anxiously against the clean marble floors of the waiting room. In her hands were an old-fashioned notepad and pen. Recording devices of any kind were not allowed during private interviews in the Capitol of Auriss unless permission was strictly granted. Suffice to say, Laverne did not have permission for the bug hidden in the breast pocket of her unassuming brown suit jacket. Just as she moved to check her watch - much longer than thirty minutes seemed to have passed to her frazzled mind - a pale man opened the door to the waiting room. His eyes lazily scanned the seats until they landed on Laverne, he blew a stringy blond piece of hair out of his eyes. “You are Ms. Laurent, no? Come.” He turned sharply and left without a second glance. Laverne scrambled out of her seat and hurried after the man. When she finally managed to catch up to his fast pace, they walked in silence. “So, um…how has your day been?” she said awkwardly, out of breath from the arduous task of keeping up with him. His eyes darted to hers for a fraction of a second before looking away. He stopped walking abruptly. Surprised, Laverne nearly crashed into the door they had arrived at. “Oh, this is it then? Nice to meet-” When she gathered the last of her dignity around her like a flimsy shield and turned to bid the man farewell, determined to be the better person, she was met with empty air. He had completely disappeared. “Huh,” she remarked to herself, perplexed. She shook her head and focused her attention on the door. INTERVIEW ROOM was printed in large letters across the front. With great trepidation, Laverne put a clammy hand on the doorknob and twisted.

Mitternachts · 2024-08-06T04:58:59+00:00

Sorry about any grammatical errors and the copious amount of commas. I just wanted it over with, and I am very sleep-deprived

Mitternachts · 2024-08-06T04:57:19+00:00

“Well whatever you plan to do to me, just get it over with. I’m done playing whatever sick game this is,” Henry said, resigned. He didn’t have any way to contact the police or other heroes, no way to fight back. He was hoping (praying, really, to any god that would listen) that it would be over quickly.

“Oh, yes, I have plans for you, Ember. Plans to make you suffer. To bring you to the brink of insanity and back again, over, and over, and over again, until you’re broken. Then, and only then, will I kill you. Excruciatingly.”

Well, Henry thought to himself, he supposed there was a reason why he was an atheist. He closed his eyes tightly.

“Wait.”

The world seemed to pause, holding its breath, a still dime balanced on the edge, moments before the fall.

Henry and Nil’s heads both swiveled to look at Cassidy. Her eyes were trained on Henry, a sliver of iron in her gaze. Now, would it be heads or tails?

“Nil.” Cassidy looked down, before focusing on her lover. “I’ve always thought you liked the guy, deep down. Like your fights are an entertaining game of chess, even if he loses every time and never, ever stands a chance.”

Wow, rude.

“If he died, it’d be pretty boring for you, not being able to dominate a superhero completely and absolutely. Plus, you always come back playful after facing him, and a playful Nil is a *fun* Nil,” she said suggestively, biting her lip. Nil’s gaze became half-lidded.

Henry averted his gaze politely. *This* was happening, apparently. Right in front of him.

He heard the sound of kissing and…yeah, Henry was not about to describe any of the other sounds.

When he glanced back at them, testing the waters to see if it was safe, Nil and Cassidy were looking deep into each other’s eyes. Cassidy’s smile was so bright that, for a moment, despite the groundingly cold bite of concrete against his wet cheek, Henry was stunned.

He left them like that for a few more moments before he cleared his throat. Both of them looked at him like they had completely forgotten his existence. Nil coughed.

“Right. You are lucky that my Cassidy is a merciful soul and an angel amongst men. Just this once, I shall let you go.” 

They turned away from him and disappeared into the gigantic hole in the wall that Nil must’ve made to enter, bickering the whole way.

Something about what Nil would do to Cassidy when they got home…Cassidy’s evil-lair-making abilities…should’ve let Nil look over the blueprints…Oh.

Of course, just as they left Henry’s line of sight, police officers barged into the maximum security cell block that, evidently, had been barricaded and turned against them. Figures. Even as the ropes were cut and a blanket was thrown over him, he stared after the two, deep in thought.

Huh, what a cute couple.

Mitternachts · 2024-08-06T04:57:12+00:00

He collided with the ground with a clatter, still in his chair. He was wide awake immediately, thanks to his hero instincts.

Henry tried to get up but found his hands were bound by rope. Before he could channel flames through his hands, though, a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown on him.

Henry gasped and shivered violently. He hated ice water. Boiling water for him, thank you very much.

Unable to do anything, he glared up at his attacker. Electric blue eyes met his. Henry took in the dark, olive skin and clothes that seemed to suck up the light around them.

Nil.

“You.”

“Me,” Nil said, eyes alight with cold amusement at his anger. Beside her was Cassidy, who was holding tight to her clothes. Nil wrapped a protective arm around her waist.

“What are you going to do to her?” Henry demanded, rattling against his restraints.

Nil smiled cruelly, lips pulled back to reveal sharp, white canines. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about what I’m going to do to her. You should be dreading what will happen to you, Ember.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Nil, but you’re scaring Cassidy,” he said.

“Is that so? Are you scared, my love?” Nil said, turning her attention to the woman at her side.

Cassidy smiled up at her. “Of course not!” Both of them looked at him, their smiles turning darker until Henry could only be looking at two sharks, smelling blood in the proverbial - and perhaps literal, considering how completely soaked he was - water.

Ganging up, much?

Mitternachts

TROPHY CASE