Inhuman - Tumblr Posts

Recent things I’ve made, and also a whole reference that’ll get posted sometime later on

OH, OH, *THAT'S* what 👁'm *supposed* to look like, huh?! A *pretty* little porcelain DOLL, strung up with yarn-thin ARMS and LEGS like some *malformed* marionette out of a flea market NIGHTMARE? A—*pfft*—white-bread HUMAN boy?? With a face that couldn’t scare a shadow? HAHAHA, NICE TRY! You think 👁’d fit into *THAT* skin? 👁’d RIP it to *SHREDS*! Oh, you want it young, *cute*, delicate? WRONG DEMON, KID! 👁’m a *CONFLAGRATION OF CHAOS,* NOT your PRETTYBOY daydream! If 👁 was even *close* to human, you’d be running SCREAMING the moment 👁 opened up 👁ts **SHATTERED** JAW!

Naaah, no, NO, let’s talk FACTS! 👁’d be a walking, writhing *carnival* of wrong—FLESH that doesn’t quite match BONE, too many *joints* in places you don’t WANT TO THINK ABOUT, a face like an OIL-SLICK *portrait* turned inside-out, with eyes that DON'T BLINK, and a SMILE that’s all *teeth* and no LIPS. 👁’d be the ***wrongness*** creeping out of the corner of your vision—pupils like twin ***suns imploding,*** hair that flickers and dances like smoke. 👁 wouldn’t just *LOOK* off, 👁’d BE off. *Off the charts,* OFF THE EDGE, OFF YOUR MAP!

But oooh, what’s *this?* 👁 get it, it’s FLATTERY, ain’t it? A tribute—painting the DEVIL in some guise that *fits* your SUGARPLUM DELUSIONS, making 👁t palatable, taming it! How *cute*. Trying to MAKE 👁NTENT SQUARE PEGS FOR YOUR ROUND HOLES! Trying to box up CHAOS like some kinda birthday present! But CHAOS has no box, no LABEL, no *limits!* Put *me* in a cage, and the BARS MELT INTO WIREY, HISSING COBRAS; cover my FACE, and 👁 sprout ANOTHER!

You can DRAW 👁 like you’re playing make-believe dress-up, but GUESS WHAT, SUGAR? That’s like calling a ***tsunami*** a puddle—it don’t *work*! You want something from me? Then 👁’LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING YOU CAN ***REMEMBER.*** HAHAH! Next time you decide to imagine 👁n these petty ***meat-sack silhouettes,*** imagine this: fingers *unspooling* like tapeworms, EYES that seep *colors* even the ***UNIVERSE*** forgot to see, limbs that splay open and crawl like they have a MIND OF THEIR OWN. THAT, ***friend***—that’s more like m👁!

Not your porcelain doll-boy, not your smirking CASPER knockoff. 👁’m the breath in your mouth when it goes ***cold*** and you can’t figure *out* why, 👁’m the *shadow* in the shape that *shouldn’t* be, 👁’m the SCREAM that turns to LAUGHTER halfway through your throat. SO KEEP DRAWING, KEEP WRITING—but remember… you’re ***playing with matches.***

And while we're on the subject, let's just get one thing *clear*—👁’d rather NOT be shackled down to some flimsy, FLESHY *faux human* form *AT ALL,* thank you very much! Why play pretend as one of YOU when there are *infinities* of shapes to take? Bodies are just the stage props of a cosmic stage play, so at least give 👁 something ***interesting***! Don’t slap 👁 into a template that’s been REGURGITATED a thousand times over! Where’s the *spark*? The *creativity*? The ***UNHINGED INVENTION?*** Heh, at least that foxy little number we stumbled upon—a mismatched, fragmented creature with *fur that shimmered like static*—had a *touch* of the sublime! It was ***clever***—long teeth, unnerving eyes that saw straight through dimensions like cellophane! Now, *that* was a depiction with some MEAT on it!

If 👁 have to look through your eyes, then MAKE IT WORTH 👁TS WHILE! Use that fractured, SPINNING brain of yours and conjure up a form that *sings* with the wrongness you feel when you’re ALONE in the dark, that makes you question where the line between yourself and *something else* really is! Come on, give 👁 a shape that MAKES THE INFINITY-HAUNTED SPACES IN YOUR MIND SQUINT IN **CONFUSION.** Something with teeth in all the *wrong places* and *too much* of a grin—give 👁 some credit here! Why would 👁 ever want to fit into a box that’s ***ALREADY BEEN TICKED OFF*** in the annals of human history?

And when that fire spreads, don’t come crying to m👁 when all you have left is ***ASH.***

But *best* of all—OH, *THE BEST* OF ALL—why not just go for the ***REAL*** deal? Why do you shy away from depicting what 👁 **truly** AM, huh? What, got a problem with *triangles?* HA! Afraid a little **GEOMETRY** might bend your brain the wrong way? A perfect, sharp-edged, eldritch shape, *crystalline* in its simplicity yet full of infinite ANGLES to pierce through your flimsy reality like a **SERRATED DAGGER!** Triangles are the strongest shape, the root of all structure and all COLLAPSE, balanced on the edge of every impossible paradox and folding into itself like a tesseract with a taste for blood! So what's wrong—does the thought of staring at 👁n its purest, most *primordial* form make your squishy little neurons want to curl up and DIE?! It should, you know! *After all…* triangles are where EVERYTHING BEGINS AND ***ENDS.***

bobbit worm, genet, sooty owl, nudibranch, rays, scorpion, centipede, milipede, moth, mantis, caterpillar, amogus, imposter, flatlander, irken (both canon & non canon), sponge, fear entities (all 15), keronian, liminal spaces, kenochoric, chaos, paradox, contradiction, and so many more. we are omni-nonhuman (many nonhuman things but not all)

shoutout to those of us with uncommon as fuck alterhuman types. no shame to the hundreds of thousands of wolves, vampires, and cats but i have never met another slime person like me and it kind of sucks

Whenever I'm asked to do something I become unable to even behave like a human, let alone doing the thing I was asked for

good song

very cool very swag

My first ever story (and post) on this site! It's tilted inhuman and is about a girl named isabelle who do to genetic experimention is shrunken to four inches tall, it's also going to be told In multiple povs from each charater. the story can be a bit graphic and has a few mentions of suicidal thoughts so warning for that, otherwise I hope you enjoy.

Chapter one.

Isabelle

The first time I felt real hope in my life also ended up being the last.

I was nine when my father brought me and nine other kids to his lab where he and his team of seventeen scientists and three assistants researched the limits of the human body. I foolishly thought it was my parents showing an interest in something I was passionate about.

Science.

I used to love science. I loved taking the time to figure things out and learn about whatever I wanted in my own experiments, I loved picking things apart to find out how they work, and I loved the amazing feeling I got when I finally figured things out. But after i learned what it's like to be on the other end of the stick, whats its like to be picked apart for someone else to figure out how i work,

I hate science.

I pull my knees to my head as I try to conserve the very little warmth my cold cell provides. My eyes squeeze shut as the door creaks open, someone’s here. Nobody should be here, they only left two hours ago. I'm given six hours and thirty minutes of sleep every night after the experiments. Why is someone here? Please, god don't let it be another scientist wanting to play doctor with my tired body during the only break I'm allowed to have. I don't hear footsteps. It must have been the wind playing tricks on me. The familiar click of the door shutting once again gives me half an ounce of comfort as I realize I'm alone again. Everyone else is gone. I press myself against the cold metal bars of my cage and take in the room around me, the same overly clean environment that I've grown used to over the last ten years.

A sigh escapea my lips as I take in the sight of the table they use to perform their sick experiments on me, they hadn't even bothered to clean up my blood. No doubt they left it there to torture me further. The sight of my blood on the table only reminds me that I will never escape, not even death can free me from this fate. Death cannot save me if death cannot reach me. I close my eyes again and go through a mental checklist of what they haven't taken from me yet. my memories, my voice, my thoughts. My memories, my voice, my thoughts. My memories, my voice, my thoughts. I repeat in my head over and over, reminding myself that no matter what else they take, I will always have those three things, even when I wish I didn't. envy is the only thing that comes to mind when i think of the other nine kids who were here with me, partly because they don't have to live with their memories and their thoughts, and partly because they even got to die.

The first of us died of blood loss, so they altered our cells so that we don't get the luxury of bleeding out.

The second caught fire due to the actions of a careless scientist, so made it so our skin can't be burned.

The third had died from being pumped with too many drugs at once, so they made us immune to overdose.

The fourth had died of sickness, so they made us immune to that too.

The fifth had attempted an escape, so they diminished our size down to nearly nothing. He had died during the tests to see if that would work.

The sixth had suffocated herself with a pillow, so they replaced our lungs with a robotic system that produces a different type of oxygen that only our bodies could handle.

The seventh had been crushed to death, so they made our skeletons able to withstand the weight of buildings.

The eight had died of cardiac arrest, so they made our hearts fifty times stronger than any human heart should be.

The ninth had been dissected and stolen for parts.

I am the tenth. The result of how far you can push the limits of the human body, and that is only until they find a way to break me too. I glare at the pile of blankets in the corner, there covered in too much blood and grime to be even considered as usable. They refuse to wash the blankets, which we regrettably used as tourniquets to tie off our wounds back when all this first started. The smell of them used to be nauseatingly disgusting, and I almost wish I could get sick from being around them.

Maybe if I was sick theyd give me a bit of a break. I doubt it though, they would more likely find a way to make me immune to that too. I wonder how long it's been since I have had the cold or even a stomach flu. I wonder how long it will be till I get sick again. I wonder how long it will be until I die, or if I even will die. I used to think It was my right as a human being to have a proper death outside of a place like this, but would I still have a right to leave this lab if I no longer have my mortality? I shake my head as if I'm shaking off the existential crises before it can fully develop.

“Atlas, did you even bother to make a layout of the building?”

an annoyed whisper cuts through the cold silence, And a pit of dread starts to build in the bottom of my empty stomach. It wasn't just the wind. I get up too quickly in an effort to try and get a look at the intruder of the lab. This person is quiet, I haven't even heard their footsteps once since the door shut. Why are they so quiet? Could they save me? Could they hurt me? Where are they? My eyes scan the room as I try to find the ghost person that's sneaking around the room. It's better if I find them before they find me. Almost like the ghost I keep comparing them to, they've hidden themselves perfectly. Away from the sight of the four cameras in the corner of the room, and away from my view. I can't make out if there's one or two ghosts in the room with me. I heard the man say a name, but I only heard one voice. What if there's no one here at all? What if after ten years of living in agony and suffering has finally broken me?

If the ghost-man is nothing but a figment of my broken imagination, then it wouldn't hurt me to talk to him, to call out for help. It would ease the neverending loneliness that this place has instilled in my mind. But on the off chance that it is a real person they could be dangerous and here to hurt me further. Stepping away from the edge of the cage I go over the pros and cons of calling out to him. Pro, if he's fake he doesn't pose a threat. Con, if he's fake then I've truly lost it and will have know way of knowing. Pro, if they're real then they could save me. Con, if they're real they could be scientists. A sigh escapes past my lips, and at the same moment a beaker falls and shatters on the glass tile. A strong smell of bleach invades the room and the ghost man lets out a series of curses in an accent that sounds almost french. Why would my mind make him french? I shake the thought from my head almost as quickly as it forms, what's important now is that i can finally see him. He's in all black with a hood covering the upper half of his face, but I can see a small scar on the left side of his jaw. He's obviously very muscular even with his slightly baggy clothes, and is holding a pistol tightly in his left hand. Why is he armed?! I watch in paralyzed fear as the man looks up and meets my eyes. His brows furrow as confusion takes over his features, he lowers his gun to his hip and takes a cautious step towards me, I return his gesture by also taking a step back. He takes another, more curious step forward, and I again step back. We continue this back and forth until he's at the edge of my cell and I'm pressed firmly against the furthest wall of my cell.

A tense silence fills the room as we both stare at each other intently, watching, and waiting for the other person to make the first move. A chill breeze passes through the room and a shiver racks my tiny body. This man is huge next to me. I've grown used to being man handled and grabbed by scientists whenever they wanted to use me for their sick experiments, but for this ghost-man to stand in front of me and really let me take in his size, its a new form of torture that none of the scientist could even hope to come up with. What if that's what this is? The scientist sending in someone to fuck with my head when they ran ran out of ways to deystroy my body. “Que diable…” the man breaths out a sigh as his shoulders slump with what seems like defeat. What the hell does “que diable'' mean? He's definitely real if he's speaking a language I don't know. He almost seems just as and if not more confused than I am. His eyes shift to the rotten pile of blankets sitting in the corner of my cell. And I feel heat rise up my neck and dye my face a subtle shade of pink from the embarrassment of this stranger seeing me in such a disgusting state. I straighten out the threadbare dress that hangs loosely on my body, before attempting to fix out my hair. I don't know why I care about how a stranger views me, maybe it's because he's the first person who's seen me in years who wasn't actively trying to hurt me. I flinch as he raises a hand that's bigger than my whole body, and gestures to me, more specifically my height. “Are you. . . Isabelle liana?” he asks, his thick french accent breaking through the silence, and my breath hitches in my throat when he says my name. I press myself up further against the wall, the cold metal pressing against my skin. He knows my name. Why? There's not a chance he's here to do anything good if he already knows who I am. I shake my head no, lying in the hopes that he'll leave and not hurt me. “Do you know where I can find her?” he asks, and i shake my head once more, i don't think he has good enough eyesight to catch the fact that i'm trembling with fear of what he may do if he finds out that i am in fact, isabelle liana. “Why, why do you need her?” My words are rushed since I'm not sure how well my vocal cords work now since I've only been using them for screaming the last year. His eyes widen and his face shifts to one of shock and slight confusion at my sudden refound voice, and it takes him a few moments to regain his confusion. He rolls his head as he contemplates the way he could phrase things. Does he think I am a child? “Her brother hired me to find and rescue her.” he explains, shrugging his shoulders and leaning down to peer into my cell once more. I shudder under his heavy gaze, but as his words sink in, hundreds of thoughts rush through my head, one playing louder than all the rest. “Damiens okay?” I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth, and the regret buries itself deeper in me as a smile spreads across his face. “You know damien?” he asks, a playful hint to his tone,

“Yes.” i respond.

“And you're not isabelle?” he asks.

“I am not.”

“How do you know damien?” he crosses his arms and leans on his left hip. “Family ties.” I confidently replied. “Like a brother?” He raises his eyebrow. “Yes.” I cross my arms in return. “So you're isabelle?” he tries to suppress his smirk. “obviously.” fuck. I don't know if it's sleep deprivation or hunger, but this guy is starting to annoy me more than scare me. A grin plays on his lips as he chuckles quietly, I flinch at the sound and take a step back. My eyes go wide as he pulls out a small pair of dull looking scissors out of the large bag he wears on his hips, but they dont look like normal scissors. They're bigger than his hand and seem like they should be stored in a tool box.

“What is that?!” I shout, now fearing for my safety once again with this ghost man. “Chain breaker.” he replies blankly, before raising it to the lock of my cell. It moved to the far back corner, getting as far away from his chain breaker as I could. “I'm ronan, in case you were wondering.” he tells me as he swings open my cell door. I gasp, the only barrier between him and my safety easily stolen without a care in the word from him. Tears brim my waterline at the thoughts of everything he might do to me if i dont get away from him. But I can't. He's blocking the only exit with his way too big hand that is now entering my cell. Oh my god his hand is in my cell. My eyes snap shut and I put my hands up defensively. “NO!” I cry out, and a small sob escapes my throat. the warmth that's been radianting off his hand leaves my cell. And I almost want it back. Sobs rack my pathetically small body as he just watches, I bet he's just struggling to contain his amusement at seeing me like this. He was lying about knowing damien, he guessed i had a brother and this is all just one big trick set up by the scientist to torture me even more than the already have. My sobs soon turn to wails as I realize that I indeed am going to die without seeing my brother again, Ronan, if that even is his actual name was just sent here to bring false hope just so they could rip it away one last time before they finally kill me. And that's only if I still can die, they might bury me under ground and leave me there to starve or dehydrate, whichever comes first, then study the effects it has on my inhuman body. No one will reprimand these awful people for everything they've done to me and the nine others who lost their lives in this place, they'll bring in a new batch of kids and do the same to them, and all our deaths will be in vain. I flinch when I feel a finger begin to gently pat my back, and I jump away from it. “Hey, hey, calm down, stop screaming.” he says, as he puts his hands up so i can see there not doing anything to hurt me. “I already told you this but i'll tell you again, your brother, Damien Liana, hired me, Ronan Moreau, to rescue you from this place.” i shake my head no, not wanting to believe a word he's saying, this man has managed to go from terrifying, to annoying and back to terrifying, and i don't think i could trust him even if i tried. I flinch hard again when I notice that he's slowly extending his palm towards me. But it stops before it even enters my cell. “Please, I promise I'll get you out of here safely.” he says, and i wipe some of the never ending tears off my cheek. “Pinky promise?” I whisper, and he chuckles at my childish request. His hand shifts so that he's holding out his pinky finger to me. I hesitantly hold mine out as well. Because of the immense size difference we can't interlock our fingers, so we just touch the tips together. It may not seem like much, but it means alot to me that he was willing to go along with such a childish request for the sake of my comfort. This time, when he reaches out a hand for me to climb onto, I take a deep breath, and step onto the hand that's offering me the freedom that I have been praying for.

Chapter two of inhuman! The story is getting a perspective switch, and as more characters are introduced you'll see the story from their pov aswell! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter two

Ronan

Walking out of the lab holding a terrified four inch tall woman in my hand is not how I expected this to go when I accepted this job three weeks ago.

From the outside this building looks like an abandoned church. It's in a remote area several miles into the forest on the outskirts of the city. A good place for a hidden lab. It took me half an hour to walk here from my car, where my partner atlas is waiting. He's been talking to me through an earpiece that I turned off after he so helpfully told me I spilled bleach after I knocked over a vial. I sigh when I feel the first few drops of rain begin to fall. “Fils de pute.” I mutter in French, earning a strange look from isabelle. Looking down at the mini lady I start to move her to my pocket, her response is the let of a small shout and cling to my finger.

I know this isn't exactly the right time to be thinking this, but she is absolutely adorable. “Don't worry, I'm just getting you out of the rain, don't want someone as lovely as you getting soaked now do we?” I ask with a wink, and I notice how her cheeks lighten to a soft shade of pink. Adorable. She takes a few moments to process what I said, and when she does she quickly shakes her head no. I tilt my head to the side as a way of asking for her to elaborate. “This. . . is the first time I've been outside in ten years,” she trails off before she can fully get her point out. Since she didn't finish her sentence, I kept walking in the direction of the car.

I don't actually intend to take her directly to the car, she seems like she's not ready to be inside again. I'm going to take her far enough away from the lab that she won't be affected when I burn this hell on earth to the ground. The inside of the lab has already been dosed in gasoline that I mopped the floors with before I found Isabelle, all that's left to do is light the match.

A gas fire won't be hindered by the water falling from the sky. If she wants to watch she can from a safe distance. If not, I'll take her back to the car and get atlas to get us back to the safe house. Whatever will bring her the most closure. After just a few minutes in the rain, Isabelle is soaked and shivering in my hand. I pull two unused tissues out of my pants pocket, and allergies in the late summer will be the death of me, and I wrap them gently around her body. She looks up at me gratefully for about two seconds before the tissues are soaked and clinging to her in a way I'm sure cannot be comfortable. An apologetic smile is all I managed to give her before I decided that this is a safe enough distance away for me to start the fire. I set her down on a tree branch that hangs at the same level as my head, and turn around to light this place up like it's a firework.

“WAIT- where are you going?! Are you leaving me here?!” she yells out, and I flinch. Right, I have to explain the things i'm doing to other people, they can't read my mind. The amount of pain and panic in her tiny voice makes my heart shatter into a million and a half pieces. She's scared, she doesn't know me, and I'm her only hope of getting out of here alive. Even though I have no real intentions of abandoning her, there's no possible way I can assure that to her. “What? No, no of course I'm not leaving you, I just need to destroy the evidence that I stole you, and that I was ever here. I'll be right back, pinky promise." I hold out my pinky finger to the small girl, just like she had done to me not that long ago.

The breath she lets out holds a hundred different meanings and I don't know any of them, but a smile full of relief fills my face when she touches her finger to mine. “I'll be right back.” To solidify my point, I slide the ring off my pinky finger and carefully lift her arms, earning a well deserved flinch that I immediately apologized for. The ring slides perfectly over her Arms and rests beautifully on her hips like a golden belt. The small ruby gemstone glimmering in the moonlight above us. “Keep an eye on that until I get back, yeah?” I ask her, she gives me a hesitant nod. I give her one last reassuring smile before I turn around, already twirling the lighter around my fingers.

As soon as Isabelle can't see my face my smile drops and my expression twists with an anger only these types of places can bring out of me. I had my partner and basically adopted brother atlas do a bit of research on what kind of lab this place is when we first accepted this job. Finding out that Isa was the sole survivor of the nine kids she was brought here with was not a comforting fact. It was even more disturbing to find out that they weren't even the first batch of experiments to go through this place.

Seventy four.

Seventy four other children were killed in this lab and the three others spread across the country over the last decade and a half. Each of their deaths was more brutal than the last. I shudder at the thought as I walk back through the doorway of the building. “Fires won't light in the rain.” Atlas' voice chirps through my earpiece and I roll my eyes, even though he can't see it. “Gas fires can't be put out with water.” I remind him. I should really stop pulling him out of school to help me on these highly illegal missions. I pull the lighter out of my pocket and flick it on, before dropping it on the ground and watching as the flames burst around me in seconds.

I should have started the fire from outside.

The smell of smoke and burning chemicals invades my nose as I sprint out of the burning building. I feel a small fire on the bottom of my pants which I try to put out as I run. It's hardly effective at all, but the small puddle I stepped in seemed to put it out without burning my skin too much. I can feel the heat of the fire as if it's only inches behind me.

Fuck this was a bad idea. I don't even give Isabelle a chance to ask questions about the sudden and very large fire that is spreading throughout the lab. I ignore her protests and squirming and I hold her close to my chest. The fire is catching on the wet grass surrounding the old building entirely. I'm forced to hold Isabelle a bit tighter when I feel her almost slip out of my grasp, I wince a bit as I hear her fearful gasp.

I don't want her to fear me any more than she probably is, the client is not going to be happy with me for scaring the shit out of his sister. Her tiny voice is shouting panicked cries at me even though I'm trying to save her ass. I turn back to see that the fire is spreading a bit more, it's not spreading very fast but it's definitely not safe enough to stay here for much longer. “Sorry isa.” I say as I drop her gently into my pocket so I can run a bit faster.

Atlas’ car comes into view and relief floods into my system. The headlights turn on as he drives a bit closer to pick me up. I slow down and carefully fish Isabelle out of my pocket, at the same moment the car crashes into my body.

Chapter four of inhuman, were back to isabella's perspective, enjoy!

Chapter four.

Isabelle

I'm sitting on the dashboard of Ronan's car with a burger three times the size of my own body sitting in front of me.

It's the first time I've smelled something so good in so long, and it won't taste as good as I've spent the last ten years imagining. “You want me to cut that up for you?” Ronan asks while his mouth is stuffed full of half chewed food.

I've been living in a cage for the last ten years and have only been fed literal slop and I have better manners than this ghost man. I shake my head no, and look back at the burger in front of me. I pull off two pieces of the bun and rip off small pieces of the meat, lettuce and cheese to make a mini burger for myself. My hands are covered in grease and sauce, but I can deal with it after I eat.

The first bite tastes freedom, and the second solidifies that hope. After I finish the first mini burger, I waste no time ripping off more pieces to make another one,

and another, and another. By the time I realize that I can't eat another bite, there's a good chunk of the burger missing. I'm embarrassed to admit I'm a little proud of how much I was able to eat.

I look back over to the two towering people who have already finished their food, anxiety begins to pool in my stomach when I realize neither of them have said anything about Damien since we were in the lab. I was promised that Damien would be waiting for me, and it's just these two in the car.

The boy to the left of Ronan looks quite a bit younger than him, with fluffy brown hair he stuffed under his hood and a birthmark almost in the shape of a heart on his jaw. I don't like him. He hasn't sat still once in the entire car drive, and won't stop looking at me. I look back at the dark haired ghost man, he has a scar over his lip, and I think he might be wearing a bit of lip gloss.

I don't not like him.

His hands were pretty soft and warm. When it looks like the younger of the two is about to speak, I start before him. “Where's damien?” I ask quickly, and I wipe a bit of the grease off my hands and onto the thread bare dress I still have from the lab.

“He's in Italy, he’ll be back in-” he cuts himself off when his phone dings. He quickly digs his phone out of his pocket. He raises his eyebrows and looks up at me. “Next week, actually.” more dread pools in the pit of my stomach, and I clench the ends of my dress in my tight fists. “How do I know you're not lying?”

I ask, not looking up at either of them. As much s i try to hide it, I'm scared. If they're lying and actually are working with the people from the lab, there would be no one to blame but myself for believing them. This could all just be a test to see how I react to feeling hope, and then having it all taken away. “Two reasons.” Ronan starts, and he takes a sip of his unnaturally orange drink.

“One, our entire paycheck rides on whether or not you're safe, and two, you're the seventh kid weave rescued from these labs. You can ask the other six how even though we don't look very untrustworthy, were the most safe persons-”

“People.” The boy next to Ronan corrects him. “People, you'll ever meet. We can even call your brother so you know it's really him.” he says reassuringly, but i don't feel the least bit reassured. In fact, I feel an even higher sense of dread.

There's more labs like the one I was in, there's more people like me. How many more are there? Who are these two?

I shift my attention back to the younger boy,

Than to ronan.

Than to the giant pile of guns that took me a concerningly long time to realize were back there.

What. the. Fuck. I scoot back a bit and look between the two of them once more, before pointing at the pile of guns again. “What, what are all the guns for?” I ask, as I scoot back a bit more.

“Oh! Those are just in case there were people in the lab with you.” the boy whose name I really need to figure out says as he quickly throws his hoodie over them, most likely to hide them from my line of sight. “We're kinda like assassins but without the killing people part” Ronan gives him a skeptical look, his brows furrowed and his mouth slightly opened. “Except we do kill people.” Ronan adds on, and my eyes go wide with not exactly surprise, but more confusion that he would admit to a stranger that they kill people.

“Oh right, yeah, so we're kinda just assassins.” I'm guessing I'm not doing the best job at hiding my anxiety about being in a car with two murders fifty times my size with absolutely no escape route, from how Rowan's expression shifts to a reassuring and almost embarrassed look. “But we won't murder you, of course.” Rowan adds with a smile.

And that is possibly the least reassuring anyone has ever been while trying to tell someone they won't be murdered. But it's also not the dying part I'm worried about, since I myself cannot die. Its the torture i'm more scared off. If they are planning to get rid of me, the ways in which they could do so are horrifying.

They could bury me in a wooden box underground, and I'm too pathetically small to even be heard. Or maybe they would lock me in a steel chest and drop me into the ocean. Or maybe they'll just lock me up in a room to rot away.

What if all they told me about them being trustworthy and about my brother was a lie.

“Isa, why are you crying?”

Ronan's voice cuts through the never ending possibilities still screaming in the back of my head, and I'm suddenly all too aware of how close his hand is to me, his whole hand is twice the size of my entire body and is two seconds away from encasing me in its grasp.

Fight or flight kicks in and I make a run for it, “hey! Wait! Don't run-” running towards the rolled down car window. When I turn my head to see if his hand is still following me, I see that it's gone completely.

Confusion joins the overwhelming mix of emotions in my head, but it's immediately replaced by shock when the hand comes crashing down in front of me, blocking my only exit. My heart pounds against my ribcage and tears prick the corner of my eyes.

A familiar ringing sound fills my ears as I make a sharp turn to run the direction I came from. This attempt proves to be futile as well when i second hand lands in front of me on that side too. Fear grips my heart and all I can think about is the pain that's coming when the two hands start to move in on me from both left and right.

I brace myself for the crushing pain that will be my punishment for trying to run. I curl in on myself uncomfortably with Ronan's ring still loosely fitting on my waist digging into my chest. The promise that he made to me with this ring on must've meant nothing to him even though it meant the world to me. He scoops me into his hands and before I can even register any of the pain I begin to struggle.

No matter how pointless it is I struggle against his hold, if he's going to try and hurt me i will not make it easy. I wonder if it's possible for the addranile to block out all of the pain, or if he hasn't started to hurt me yet.

“oh mon Dieu- Isabelle! Calm down! I am not hurting you!”

Ronan says, but i don't listen, i don't believe his lies and i continue to struggle in his hand. He closes his hands around me so that I'm cupped between his hands in almost complete darkness, small bits of light peek through the gaps in his fingers and I freeze.

I stop for a moment and realize that he is being gentle, his movements are a bit clumsy, but he's not hurting me at all. I'm still shaking a bit but I'm not actively fighting against him anymore.

“I am really starting to run out of ways to express that we don't want to hurt you.” he says with a sigh, though his voice is a bit muffled through the flesh wall between us, i can hear his sincerity. I copy his sigh, “please. . . put me down. . . please.”

I say in a tone so quiet it almost counts as a whisper. To my almost surprise, he listens. Ronan sets me gently down in the cup holder beside him. It's only then that I notice the boy next to us with a mortified expression. He looks at me, then looks at ronan.

“Dude, you did not just grab her like that!?” Ronan gives him a quizzical expression. “She's fine with it, right isa?” I quickly shake my head no, agreeing that I am not okay with being grabbed like this.

“Oh, I'll stop doing that then.” he starts up the car again and i flinch, neither of them notice though and they start driving the car. I hug myself, and try not to think about the danger I could be in.

Chapter five! Sorry for not updating in a but I've been busy, this ones kinda short, enjoy!

“Okay, so you need new clothes.” I say while loosely gesturing at Isabelle's threadbear dress that she's clearly had just a few years too long.

We got to the safe house about half an hour ago, and Isabelle has already had three panic attacks and even bit atlas once when he tried to pick her up. She looks down at her dress and then backs up at me, her expression clearly conveying that she doesn't think they make clothes in her size.

“Atlas over here makes doll clothes, I'm sure he has something in your size.” I gesture over to Atlas who is wasting a bandaid on the small bite mark that isn't even bleeding.

Atlas has told me that he plans to be a dressmaker once he gets out of college. He works with me since we make a lot of money in our line of work so he can save up to start his own business. He makes miniature versions of his designs for practice, which im sure would fit isa perfectly.

“I'll draw you a nice bath while atlas grabs those?” i suggest, and she just gave me a weird look. With a sigh I grab a small bowl from the cupboard and set in behind the old breadbox. Most of the kitchen appliances here are pretty old and the house is old despite the money we make.

We have to keep a low profile.

Besides, most of our money goes to buying weapons and extra cars so we can’t be traced. “You can go behind there for a bit of privacy, we won't look, promise.”

Atlas says, and I watch her carefully step behind the breadbox as I fill a cup up with warm water to fill the bowl with. I send atlas to go grab a bit of shampoo, conditioner and body wash in a bottle cap.

My hand Hesitates for a moment when Isabelle lets out a small sound of surprise while I was reaching my hand in to grab the bowl. “Not looking, just grabbing the bowl.” I reassure her.

She reminds me a bit of a squirrel. She jumps at the slightest movement, when we were eating early I saw her stuff a bit of food into her pockets, she's fast, and most notably her size.

Now that we aren't actively trying to escape the lab, I'm able to fully take in her size. She goes against everything I learned in school. Logicly, a person of her unique stature wouldn't be able to produce enough body heat to keep themselves alive and would need to be constantly moving and eating to keep themselves alive. Kinda like how hummingbirds drink sugar water and are constantly in a state of movement.

Yet, here she is. Defying math and logic itself by standing at a mere fourish inches tall and near starving to death via malnourishment and seemingly producing enough body heat to not freeze death.

Hopefully she'll answer my questions and explain what had happened to make her like this before her brother comes to collect her. I can't explain why, but the thought of her leaving makes my heart heavy.

With a sigh, I make sure she has everything she needs before I leave the kitchen to go find atlas. It doesn't take long because he's usually in either one of two places, his bedroom or the studio.

I do the same knock that anna did during ‘do you want to build a snowman’ on the studio door, and wait for his confirmation that i can come in.

“knock normally.” he calls back, i can tell that he's focused. A grin stretches across my face and I proceed to bang on his door, again to the tune of the famous kids song. He groans and I laugh, “come in.”

I enter the studio and am immediately hit with the scent of fabric glue invading my sense of smell, I cover my nose while opening the window closest to him. “What are you working on? And does it need that much glue?” I ask, and atlas doesn't even bother to look up.

“Pajamas, Isabelle needs something to sleep in doesn't she?” he replies dryly, a small sigh escapes his lips as he sets down his pin to look up at me.

“Am I in trouble for hitting you with the car?” i laugh at the question, “of course you are.” he deflates, and goes back to his work. “Unless. . .” I start with a smile in my voice, and he turns back and spins around in his chair immediately.

“Find out everything you can about isabelle.”

Master post for inhuman

https://www.tumblr.com/gtlurker/753661841998233600/here-is-chapter-nine-of-inhuman-bit-of-a-warning?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/gtlurker/754261292263587840/here-is-chapter-ten-of-inhuman-a-bit-of-a?source=share

Finally chapter six of inhuman, unfortunately I couldn't find a way to squeeze any g/t into this chapter, but, new perspective and new characters are introduced in this new addition, enjoy!

Chapter six,

Damien

Im three hours into the thirteen hour flight from venice italy to vancouver canada, and each passing second im more tempted to knock out the pilot, take the wheel and break most of the air traffic safety rules.

It took me ten years to find my sister, and I hired the two most idiotic men to retrieve her. I would've done it myself if it weren't for the fact that I was in Europe when I got the notification that she was still in the same town we grew up in.

I knew my father wasn't an idiot when it came to where he put his labs, he strategically places them in old worn abandoned buildings so that they're not on the government's radar. Unfortunately for him, I'm not as stupid as the government and was able to find isabelle.

Granted it took me ten years, but I know for a fact that she's still alive and not too injured. I know for a fact that she's going to have a lot of changes due to the unique nature of our fathers experiments, but it won't be anything I cant reverse.

I was seventeen when Isabelle was taken to the lab. My mother and father came home that day to tell me about what they had done, and informed me that I was going to be taken there as well. Not for the same reason as my sister though, they wanted me to start visiting the labs so I could learn what I would be in charge of after they passed. Of course when I protested their reaction was not what i was expecting. Instead of the usual violence and threats on my life, they said something a hundred times worse.

They had threatened to use Isabelle for tests that the subjects were not meant to survive.

With how They had gone into detail about the different ways they could make her death slower and more agonizing, I knew I didn't have much of a choice but to force other innocent children into the same sick fate that hundreds have been put through due to my parents. In a way I'm just as bad as they are, I couldn't find another way to save my sister and instead hurt dozens of others just like her, And I don't even know if I truly saved her at all.

Nine more hours into the flight I'm tempted to just grab a parachute and jump out of the plane window.

I refrain however, I don't think the other passengers would appreciate a sudden loss of pressure in the cabin. The last hour of the flight Is always the longest and I feel like now Is worse than ever.

I sigh for what feels like the millionth time since I boarded the plane, and I only sigh louder when the baby I'm sitting ten seats in front of starts wailing once again. Anyone who brings a baby on a plane should at least have the decency to be able to keep it quiet. Yet another sigh escapes my lips as I unbuckle my seatbelt and make my way over to the women holding the baby, my expression carefully folded into an expression that masks the annoyance that is building inside my core.

Once I reach her seat, and see the baby's little face scrunched up with tears running down his face, alongside a clearly exhausted mother who looks like she hasn't gotten a wink of sleep in the last week. I tap her shoulder and her eyes meet mine, the dark circles under her eyes abundantly clear. “Excuse me miss, I don't mean to be rude,” I tell her in my customer service, and I hold out the small blue stuffed bear that I keep with me for situations like this, “but would your child want this to help him calm down?” the baby in question stops its blubbering and begins to make grabby hands at the toy, and his mother accepts the toy with a grateful smile and I leave before she can initiate any small talk.

Once the plane has landed, I waste no time grabbing my bags and calling a taxi to take me to the very odd address I was given by the idiots I hired. Since I was in such a rush to leave Italy, I only packed three bags to take with me. One for essentials, one for my equipment, and one for Isabelle's things that I managed to get my hands on after my parents threw them all out. The cab driver is a young man in his twenties, he seems tired and based on his expression I assume he's not really one of those chatty drivers i hate.

I lean back and pull out my phone, a simple black burner phone that I use to contact anyone involved in my less than legal life. After scrolling through the seemingly never ending list of contacts before finally coming across the one i need. I click the call button and bring the phone to my ear. Once I hear the voice on the other end of the phone, I speak before they have a chance to take a breath. “You have twenty minutes.”

Chapter seven of inhuman! Hope this chapter I'd enjoyed because I loved writting it, bit of violence but nothing to major in this chapter, enjoy!

Chapter seven

Atlas

“There is no way in hell he just said ‘you have twenty minutes,’ then hung up.” Ronan tells me from the other side of the kitchen where he's pouring himself a glass of whiskey from the locked cabinet that I'm not allowed within ten feet of.

He started to keep a lock on the cabinet a few months ago when I stole a bottle of rum and brought it to school to try with some other kids, so it makes me a little annoyed when he offers a glass to isabelle. “Isnt she underaged?”

I ask, gesturing to miniscule girl. Isabelle chose one of my favorite dresses that i made, a simple forest green ankle length, long sleeve running dress with built in shorts. It's simple, yes, but I can certainly see why she chose it.

“She's twenty, not fifteen. If she wants some alcohol then she can have some.” Ronan responds with an eye roll, he turns back Isabelle, who shakes her head in response. “I'd rather not.” Her voice is so quiet it's basically a whisper, I can't tell if it's because she's so small her voice won't project, or if it's because she's still scared.

She spent the night here last night, and most of the house didn't get a wink of sleep. I had stayed up the whole night trying to find more information about our little guest. Isabelle just stayed up the whole night, sitting on the window sill and watching the backyard, the house is surrounded by acres of forests, but at night there's not really much to look at.

I tried to start a few conversions, but her responses were always quipped, and each time I spoke she would jump out of her skin. I don't know how she's still so awake right now after spending the whole night awake.

Ronan had asked her a few questions about her time in the lab, but she didn't really seem inclined to answer any of them. It's impossible to not stare at her, she's holding a single cheerio, and it's taking her a while to eat through it. It's almost hard to imagine that just one of something people usually eat by the hundreds is enough for Isabelle to eat.

I wonder what it would feel like to hold her, though she hasn't let me hold her yet, i've seen ronan hold her a handful of times, she clearly hates it each time and is never very willinging to be picked up, i still find myself jealous that i probably won't get the opportunity to hold her before her brother comes to get her in a few minutes.

The room is filled with an uncomfortable silence only punctuated by the sound of Ronan taking a sip from his glass.

A loud knock at the door that's more like a banging than a knocking is the only warning were given before the door bursts open, and a very angry looking damien is storming into our house, in the span of five seconds, the chain lock broke and is currently sitting on the other side of the kitchen, ronan has got to put more money into our security system.

Ronan's glass has shattered to the ground and his gun is drawn and aimed at Damien, and Damien's gun is pointed at me. Why me!? I don't even have a weapon on me, unless you count a bowl of soggy cheerios a weapon.

As Damien and Ronan start to shout over each other, both threatening to pull the trigger if the other didn't put his gun down, my gaze shifts between the two of them for a good few seconds. I really hate when I'm held at gunpoint, it's not as fun as it seems in the movies.

As the two gun wielding assholes continue their screaming match, the sight of Isabelle curled in on herself and covering her ears catches my eyes. Did neither of these idiots think that maybe screaming and pulling their guns out might hurt her ears? She's four inches tall, her ears are probably a lot more sensitive than a normal persons.

I make sure neither Damien or Ronan have their eyes on me, before I slowly reach over to gently tap on Isabelle's back. Naturally, she recoils from my touch and looks up to me, her hands still pressed tightly over her little ears.

Our eyes meet and i nod to my outstretched hand, it takes a moment before she carefully removes her hands from her ears and scoots a bit closer to my hand, i quickly look up to make sure that both of them are still distracted and watching as damiens finger get a bit closer to the trigger of the gun.

I don't understand why both of them had taken their guns out, I'm also a bit concerned that Ronan had a gun on him when I thought that we were both unarmed. How many times has he had guns on him and I was unaware, he probably sleeps with guns under his pillows for all I know, and I really don't know why Damien pulled out his gun when he broke in.

we would have let him in if had just knocked on the door, you know, like a normal fucking person. It also makes no sense why he has his gun pointed at me.

After confirming that their both still distracted i gently scoop isabelle into my hand, bringing her to my chest and cupping my second over top of her to make a small quiet space for her, it's probably still noisy for her, but it's definitely more muffled than when she was covering her ears on the table.

When the realization that i'm holding an entire life in my hand right now. Her whole entire life is in the palm of my hand, and it feels so surreal. It's almost unreal how I can feel her squirming slightly in my grip. I swallow and try not to make a sound or move a muscle so as to not scare her into making a sound. I don't want either of them to notice that I'm now holding her.

I flinch at the sudden sound of Ronan bursting out laughing and damien demanding to know what's so funny. Rona looks over to me and points at Damien with his gun, laughing harder as he tries to get the words out.

“He- he has a BB gun!”

Ronan exclaims, followed by another fit of laughter. Damien stares dumbfoundead, and looks at his gun, my eyes also slide down to his gun. He turns to the gun in his hand and looks back to me, and then at his gun. His gun in fact, is not a BB gun, it's a 3.3 Semi-automatic handgun.

Damiens brow furrowed in confusion as roman's laughter abruptly stopped, and he fired two shots at damien, one in the elbow and one hand.

Damiens shout is more out of shock than pain, he gun clatters to the floor and Ronan wastes no time grabbing it and aiming that in him as well. I can feel Isabelle trembling in my cupped hands, muttering and trying to figure out what's going on.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Ronan asks calmly, there's an anger lacing his voice that I've never heard before. When Damien's only answer is a pained grunt, Ronan fires another shot that takes Damien's pinky finger right off, Isabelle shrieks at the sound of a third shot followed by a pained cry, and I feel my dinner rise to my throat at the bloody sight.

“I said, who. The fuck. Are you?!”

Ronan shouts again, and I quickly realize he has no idea who Damien is. I make a dash for the door as damien starts to shout who he is and what he's here for, i hold isabelle tight to my chest, and the sound of two guns clanking against the floor is the last thing i hear before i shut the door to my bedroom and open my hand to see isabelle.

she's been crying the whole time from the look on her face, so i set her down to not further overwhelm her. “Was, was that my brother?” she asks, and i nod, deciding to be honest.

“Why did he have a gun?!”

“I don't know.”

“Was he shot?”

“Yes. in the arm.”

“Will he die?!”

“No.”

Never mind being honest, she is not in the right mindset for hearing the truth. The truth is I don't know if he'll survive those bullet wounds, I don't hear any more gunshots or shouting, so I'm assuming they've started to get along.

Isabelle and I stayed in my room for another hour. She gets changed into a set of pajamas I sewn two weeks back, a pink pair of pajama pants and an ill fitting pastel yellow shirt to pair with it.

When I'm confident that they've dealt with all the blood and started to calm down, I take Isabelle and slowly creak open the door.

Ignore the question part I clicked it by accident and don't know how to remove it, so just enjoy a little pole lmao

ANYWAY hope you enjoyed this chapter, Ronan forgetting the face of his own client is honestly so real

I'm kinda thinking about writting a story thats a bit on the fluffier side and more g/t focused than inhuman is,

Here, for the first time ever...

Art for inhuman!

This is a sketch of Isabelle, I can't draw very well, but I've been working on drawing out yhe characters, this would be what she wore at the labs!

Chapter eight of inhuman, finally out. This chapter is a bit angsty and mentions isabelles time at the lab a bit, so fair warning for that, otherwise, enjoy!

Chapter eight.

Isabelle

When I lock eyes with my brother for the first time in ten years, all I can do is cry. Damien stares at me in shock for a few moments, no doubt trying to process my height.

It doesn't seem to take him long to process though as he runs over and immediately takes me from atlas’ hands, ignoring Ronan's protests and telling him to sit back down.

He holds me against his collarbone as he falls to his knees, muttering repeated apologies and having explanations that fade back into apologies. I can't say I'm doing much better, tears pouring from my eyes like rain clouds and failed sentences I can't even string together to tell that it wasn't his fault and my own apologies.

For what feels like hours but was probably only minutes, sitting on the floor like this, sobbing and apologizing, his hold on me is too tight, almost painful, but I can't find it in me to care. When he finally does pull away and his eyes start to frantically scan over my face, he stops breathing for a few moments.

No words escape his throat, no tears leave his eyes. Nothing but pure sorrow can be found on his face.

“Your eyes aren't supposed to be blue, your hairs isnt supposed to be black.”

his voice cracks when he says these things, as if he's trying to change my appearance back to the blond hair brown eyed girl i was the last time we saw each other. He still has his blond hair and his brown eyes, but he's clearly not the same person I knew all those years ago.

He has no hope left in his eyes. And it kills me to see him just as broken as me. I can't bring myself to reply and just stare up at him in disbelief that he's actually here.

“Um, I hate to ruin this moment, but I haven't finished your stitches yet.” Ronan's voice breaks through the overwhelming mix of emotions, and my eyes travel down the length of Damien's arm to the fact that he still has a surgical needle sticking out of his arm inside a half stitched bullet wound. “Oh, right.” he says, as he stands and sits back down infront of Ronan, holding out his arm again.

It takes me a moment before I'm able to climb out of his hand and sit on the floor next to him. I look over at Atlas who's staring at his hand like it was kissed by george washington himself, i don't understand why he's staring at his hand like that, and it's kinda freaking me out. However it's not freaking me out near as much as how good Ronan is at giving stitches, or at how damien's not show any signs of pain even though his bullet wound is being repeatedly stabbed with a needle.

All of us sit in a tense silence while Damien is stitched up. Atlas goes between cleaning up the mess that was made, and staring at me. He's always staring. always Making me feel insignificant and like I'm just something to be gawked at because of my size.

It's not like I want to be this way. I shake off my depressive thoughts and instead focus my attention back onto my brother, who has worry etched onto his expression. “Isa, Have these idiots hurt you at all?” he asks, looking at me like I'll break if he gets too close.

Ronan's face drops and he looks offended, as if Damien even considering the possibility that they would have hurt me is the greatest offense known to mankind.

Atlas however, winces at the question. While he didnt hurt me, he did hit me with his car, sending me flying at least twenty feet. That would hurt any normal person, especially someone of my unique stature.

After a few moments of careful consideration, I shake my head no. “No, only hit Me with a car.” Damien immediately shoots up, glaring at Atlas and ronan. “He WHAT?! What do you mean only!? They hit you with a car!” regret washes over me as i realize how that i might have sounded to him. “She's obviously not hurt is she? Sit down and let me finish your stitches or I will shoot you again.” Ronan threatens, and Damien reluctantly sits back down.

Ronan brings the needle back to damiens arm and keeps stitching him up. I turn my head away from the sight of my brother being sewn back together like a stuffed animal a child ripped.

I hate sewing needles.

Seeing one, even if it's being used to help someone, brings me back to when needles were stuck through my wrists and ankles, holding me in place as a scalpel was dragged across my skin. Tearing me open and ripping out my non vital organs. Both my uterus and gallbladder have been removed to my knowledge. I hate to imagine what else I lost without anyone telling me. Just at the mere memory of it i begin to tremble, the skin on my stomach beginning to ache as if there's a blade pressed against me at this very moment. When my eyes drift upward instead of seeing masked faces and gloved hands awaiting to cut me open and torture my mind alongside my body, i see ronans, atlas, and damiens concerned faces all looking down on me, making me feel smaller than i truly am.

The pity on their faces do nothing to calm my racing heart. The scientist looked at me with pity, and they still continued to hurt me. “Isabelle, what's wrong? Did something happen?” damiens voice is muffled to my ears, sounding like he's trying to speak to me through a wall, yet at the same time it's overwhelmingly loud. “I-i need a drink…” I croak out, my voice shakes around the syllables as I try to not look up at the three of them.

I hear rustling followed by the sound of running water as Ronan grabs a glass of hopefully just water for me. Damien reaches a hand out towards me, however he almost immediately pulls it back when I flinch away.

I can't help but notice the hurt that flashes across his face. It's not like I want to be scared of my brother, but after everything that's happened since I saw him last, i dont think it'sm possible for me to feel anything but fear towards anybody.

To distract from recent agnst, here is a picture of Isabelle modeling clothes for atlas!

Procrastinating writting by drawing, and despite having four other characters in the story, I keep drawing isa.

Here is chapter nine of inhuman, bit of a warning for violence, but otherwise, enjoy!

Chapter nine,

Damien.

My back is starting to hurt from how long I've been sitting on the floor. It's stupid having to sit on the ground like children, but I do suppose it makes it easier for Isabelle to not feel as small as she actually is when we're closer to her height.

I moved back a little further after Isabelle had flinched away from my offer of comfort. I would never want to hurt my sister, but the thought of her even considering that I might be as cruel as our parents makes me sick to my stomach.

My main focus now is trying to figure out what i'm supposed to do now, i'll have to spend extra time in the lab trying to figure out a reversal for her shrinkage. But Isabelle isn't currently able to take care of herself, she can hardly lift the shot glass of water Ronan grabbed for her! So what will I do with her in the meantime while I try to reverse this?

As if on cue, my roommate, Rose Ayala, texts me to ask if I was successful in finding isabelle. Ayala is one of the scientists at my parents' labs, she had taken her position about a year after I had taken mine. Originally the plan for her was to be one of their test subjects, but I was able to convince them to let her be a scientist instead.

Sighing I place my phone down, and slowly reach for Isabelle again.

“We should leave, it won't be long until this place is raided.”

I say while carefully taking Isabelle into my hands, cupping her gently to my chest as I rise to my feet. I can feel her small form trembling slightly, and it only servers to further break my heart. “What do you mean raided?” Ronan cuts in as I start to make my way to the door. I'll have to call another taxi to come and take me to the hotel I have a reservation at.

I turn back to face him and can't help but notice the way he's protectively placed himself in front of atlas. He's standing in front of him in a way that makes me think it's almost completely subconscious. He feels as if there's danger and immediately goes to protect atlas, which leads me to assume they're closer than just partners, maybe their siblings or childhood friends.

“Well unless you two destroy the tracker that's planted in Isa's arm, which I'm assuming neither of you did, then any moment you can expect-” and as if on cue, a small red dot shows up on Ronan's forehead.

All four of our eyes go wide before all of us slam to the ground, a shot fired and destroys a bowl of cereal that was left out on the counter. That's our only warning before a hailstorm of bullets comes shooting through every window. Destroying most of the kitchen.

I press myself up against a cupboard, it being one of the very few blindspots that's not actively being shot at. I can hear Isabelle shouting, trying to figure out what's going on as I shove her squirming form into my pocket.

I pull out a small pistol I keep at my side and scan the room for the other two. Atlas is curled under the table looking like he's on the verge of a panic attack, and ronan, the lucky asshole managed to dive into the hallway next to the kitchen, completely out of the way of the the shots being fired.

“WE NEED TO GET TO THE CAR!” Ronan's voice cuts through the repetitive sound of gunfire. “AND JUST HOW DO YOU EXPECT WE DO THAT!?” i shout back, gesturing with my gun to the now hole filled kitchen, it was only a matter of time before they decided to storm in and take us out like that. Then we'd be truly screwed.

“STUN GRENADE” atlas shouts back with a shaky voice. “THERE'S SOME IN MY DESIGN ROOM!” ronan, being the only one of us who is able to get to the design room without becoming human swish cheese, runs out of sight to where I only hope the design room is.

I place my hand over the pocket Isabelle is in, trying to get her to stop moving and potentially fall out. “Everythings fine isa…” i mutter quietly to her, before moving my hand away to load my gun. “We're gonna get out of here.” Just as I finish loading my gun, I hear Ronan yell for us to close our eyes, a bright flash of light is what tells me it's time to move.

The gunfire stopped and I grabbed Atlas by the arm and yanked him to his feet, we both sprint in the direction of the door, eyes closed and hoping Ronan is still right behind us. “Shit…'' I mutter as the gunfire starts up again, I can feel the stitches in my arm reopening and that aching pain return as I try to open the passenger side door.

Locked. Of course its fucking locked.

“RONAN THE FUCKING CAR!” Atlas yells in a fear fueled panic before I get the chance to. He is continuously pulling on the door handle, trying to force it open. When Ronan finally unlocks the car, atlas and dive into the backseat so fast he hits his head.

This kid is not good in high stress situations. I sit in the passenger seat moments before Ronan gets in the car and pulls out of the driveway, barreling down the highway. It's dead silent in the car, there's no sounds of cars or anything following us, they're probably waiting till we get to the next location before they storm that place too.

Carefully, I reach my hand into my pocket to grab Isabelle out and make sure she's okay. I hesitate when I feel something warm and wet graze my finger tips.

Confusion crosses my features, but it quickly turns to horror when I see isabelle. I'm speechless staring at her, and the only sounds that can be heard in the car is Isabelle's quiet panting, and atlas retching in the backseat.

AND that's the end of chapter nine, not my favorite chapter, since fight scenes are a fuckery to write, but I hope it was enjoyable, despite the cliff hanger.

Here is chapter ten of inhuman, a bit of a violence warning, bit of blood, enjoy!

Chapter ten

Isabelle

My arm really hurts. I collapse against my brother's thumb as some blood drops from my arm to his hand. The metallic taste coats my tongue and my fingers are stained red. With shaky hands I drop my tracker that had previously been implanted in my forearm onto damiens hand in front of me.

“Holy shit isabelle! Did- you didnt- holy shit!" Damien says, his voice an octave or higher than normal, his usual calm and aloof manner completely gone. Instead his expression is just one of shock and horror.

“What? What did she. . .”

Ronan's voice trails off as he stares at my injured arm.

“That's… oh gosh…”

my head begins to feel dizzy as I lean forward, trying to brace myself on something. Damien catches me with his index finger, giving me something to hold my balance.

“I-i took my tracker out…” I mutter, grabbing the gaping wound on my arm and trying to stop the bleeding. ¨we can see that.” Ronan says as he reaches over and opens the glove box, pulling out a bandaid the size of my whole body. I'm too dizzy and light headed, trying to focus on what he's planning to do with the bandaid. Ronan and Damien have a small, argumentative conversation about whether or not the band aid is actually going to do anything for me, which ultimately ends up with my entire arm wrapped in a bandaid.

It wraps around my arm seven or eight times and covers from my shoulder to my wrist, keeping my arm straight. I find myself sitting back in the cup holder I was in just yesterday. I think back to yesterday, it's only been twenty four hours since Ronan broke into the lab and stole me from.

So much has happened since then. I was hit by a car, an accessory in arson, i ate a burger, i saw my brother for the first time since i went to the lab, i almost got shot, and i bit a tracker out of my arm.

I sigh and lean back, considering whether this was all worth it. Even if i'm safe here with them, i'm really not, i don't even know ronan or atlas. And damien,

damien´s changed.

I don't know how, but something about him is different than it was ten years ago. And even with the tracker removed from my arm, my parents aren't going to stop looking for me. I look up at my brother and find him wrapping his bullet wound from a few hours ago in gause. I wince before looking away again, instead choosing to look up at ronan.

He's driving the car with a hard expression. I choose to watch him while he drives. His dark hair framing his face and falling just below his ears caught my attention most of all. I like his hair. I decided that instead of sulking and being scared the rest of this car ride, that I'm just going to focus on ronan.

His face is pleasant to look at. His nose is a tad bit too big for his face being a feature I find my eyes settling on a lot. So far ronan hasn't been all that bad, besides from forgetting who damien was and shooting him in the arm, he's been nicer to me than most people i've met recently.

But to be fair the bar isn't all that high anyway. It's odd that I find myself too trusting of these people I hardly know. The reason that both atlas and ronan don't make me feel threatened is that I can't figure it out myself, but I like the feeling of safety they give me.

For the rest of the car ride I go between sitting in Damien's hand and sitting and resting in the cup holder. My arm is still aching but I'm pretty sure the bleeding has stopped.

“Let's stop at the gas station, I'll buy snacks.” Atlas chimes from behind me, and I turn around to face him. I've been enjoying being able to eat whenever, and the mention of stopping for food when only been driving for an hour and a half fills me with joy.

“I'll pay.” Damien cuts in as Ronan pulls up to a pump and unbuckles. “As an apology for breaking into your house.” he says, but his voice doesn't sound apologetic at all.

Both Ronan and Damien get out of their car to do their respective tasks, leaving just me and atlas. “Hi.” he says, leaning against the front seat of the car. I nod, an awkward silence falling between the two of us.

“This is, the same car you hit me with.” I say in a poor attempt to fill the silence. His eyes widen and look away, a guilty expression on his face. “Yeah. . . sorry about that.” he looks away, and it dawns on me that this might not be the best conversation filler. “No, it's fine, I'm not hurt,” I sigh, before smiling a little bit, “it was kinda cool, I've never been hit by a car before.”

he gives me an odd look, before starting to laugh a bit, his light hair falling onto his face. He looks like he should need a haircut, but the way he styles it makes it look nice. I chuckle and cross my arms over my chest. I pull my hair into a ponytail, holding it up with my left hand. Atlas notices and leans down closer to me. “Do you want me to braid it?”

Damien and Ronan reenter the car to find me sitting on Atlas's lap, as he struggles to braid my miniscule hair. They both give us an extremely confused and slightly concerned look. Atlas wasn't able to properly braid my hair, but twenty minutes of effort managed to get it out of my face, and that was something that I very much appreciated.

Sorry for not updating in bit- but here is chapter eleven of inhuman! Very brief mention of suicide, but otherwise, enjoy!

Chapter eleven

Ronan

After three hours of driving, we managed to get to a safe location. Vix’s house. Vix is one of our long-time clients, she's basically a sister to Atlas and I'm sure she'd let the four of us crash with her until we get this shit figured out. I take a sip of my long cold coffee that Damien bought me at the gas station.

Isabelle and Atlas are fast asleep in the backseat, Isabelle curled up on his shoulder while he leans against the window. It's quite a cute sight to see, especially with how apprehensive they were around each other only two days ago.

“Whose house is this?” Damien asks as he sneaks a glance back at the two sleeping bodies in the back seat. “Her name is Vix, she's Atlas's age, another client of ours.” I responded before reaching back to wake up Atlas and isabelle. “Rise and shine, we're here.”

I shake Atlas a little bit, startling Isabelle awake, yet somehow not waking up atlas. She seems surprised to have woken up on his shoulder, and it takes her a moment to process what's going on. “Where's here?” she asks, her voice as soft and quiet as ever. “A friend's house, she's nice, wake up atlas for me, would you?”

She hesitates then nods with a determined expression, before she reaches up and grabs a handful of atlas’s overgrown hair, and jumps off his shoulder, yanking his hair with all her force before either me or damien could stop her. She lets out a yelp as Atlas swats at her. Luckily, she's able to hold on and dangles right in front of his eyes. Damien reaches back to grab her out of Atlas's face and cradle her in his hand. Looking back at Atlas, he seems less than happy about the way he was woken up. “What? Why did you do that?” he asks as he looks out the window. A look of realization crosses his face as he stares out at the house outside the car.

¨ Does she know we're here?” Atlas asks, and Damien looks at me with an eyebrow raised. I unbuckle my seatbelt and start to step out of the car. ¨She will.¨

Entering the house with two extra people and multiple injuries is probably not what vix wanted to see at eleven o'clock at night, especially since she had been spending the last few years avoiding violence and people she didn't know.

She's a runaway.

At the age of nine she ran away from her grandparents house, there were a total of seventeen other kids and four adults who lived there as well, and money was practically nonexistent. I don't exactly know how she got there or her whole story, but I found her in a place similar to Isabelle, only with a significant difference in founding.

I smile as she rushes downstairs, her curly hair thrown back into a low ponytail and a lovely pink machete clutched tight in her right hand. Her skirt poofs slightly when she jumps over the last three steps and onto the hardwood floor, her socked feet letting her glide for a few inches, her weapon pointed directly at damien. I can see the ´you've got to be kidding me´ in his expression, and I stifle a laugh.

Today has not been his day.

“Whos this doll wielding freak?” vixs asks, her blade still pointed directly at Damien's head. “My sister is not-” “this is damien.” i cut him off before he started a fight with vix, considering that she has a machete and he has a bullet wound, it's not a very fair fight. Her eyes widen with shock, before she glares daggers at the poor guy.

“He's a client of ours, the house was compromised so we just took him with us.” I gave her half a grin before walking to her kitchen to raid her fridge for something to drink. “Stop bringing random clients to my house! Matter of fact, Ronan, your band from here!” vix shouts at me as I pull out a can of root beer from her fridge. She glares at me while I begin to count on my fingers.

“That's the fourth time I've been banned this month! Is that a new record?” i ask cheekily, vix finally lowers her weapons and walks up to damien, she leans forward to examine him for a moment, completely forgetting about the argument me and her were having not even thirty seconds ago. He glares back at her, there is a noticeable height difference between the two of them, with vix only coming up to about his shoulder.

Without so much as a breath of warning, vix snatches Isabelle roughly from his hand with two fingers.

Atlas, Damien and I all immediately gasp and the whole room goes silent. All of our eyes shoot to Isabelle, as her head turns to vix, panic clear in her eyes. Vix stares back, watching as the thing she thought was a doll moved in her hand. She had the same expression as an arachnophobe who just encountered a spider with no one around to kill it.

I take a few steps forward and grab a bowl of fruit from the table behind me, emptying it out onto the couch right as vix screams and launches isabelle into the air before running over to atlas, at the same moment damien launches forward to try and catch isabelle, only to end up on the floor while isabelle lands safely in the bowl.

I can hear her heavy, anxious breathing from here, and I look down at her, taking note of the panic in her expression. I chuckle and watch her for a moment longer, before setting the bowl down onto the side table with her still in it. I'll give her a minute to calm down. Damiens is still lying face down on the floor and vix is still hidden behind a very confused atlas. I clap my hands together and decided that right about now is probably a good time for introductions.

“Alright, vix, sorry for the no warning on bringing strangers into your house, but this is damien.” I say, gesturing to the man on the floor, who for some reason has yet to get up. “And the lady in the bowl, who you threw,” she looks embarrassed, “is Isabelle, damien hired us to rescue her from a lab, and when he came to pick her up, we were attacked.” vix looks a bit surprised when i recap the last two days.

I look back at Isabelle, then at vix. They'll probably get along fine, their both labs grow after all. “Isabelle, we found Isabelle at a lab like the one we found you in, except she had the opposite problem to you.” i'm about to continue explaining when vix jabs me in my neck, hitting a pressure point and making me jump back. “Stop telling my life story.” she says, picking up the bowl Isabelle has been sitting in and gently tilting her onto the table.

“As he was saying, when they found me, I was about forty feet tall, nice to meet a fellow survivor.” she says with a gentle smile, this would've been a very touchy moment, if Isabelle wasn't staring at vix in complete shock, looking at vix like she had three heads. Damien, quiet as a mouse, puts a hand on vixs shoulder, making her jump. "So its you? the experiment they assumed killed herself after escaping, sar-” one swift hit to the head from vix shut him right up.

“Don't call me that, that's not my name.” she says, her expression going from gentle and calm, to cold and dark in just a matter of seconds. Atlas places his hand on vixs shoulder, leaning into her ear and whispering something to quiet for the rest of us to hear, or that was my original thought, from the way the tiny person on the table eyebrows raised. I'm assuming she heard whatever he said.

“It's late, we should go to bed, Ronan, you and Atlas can share the guest room, this asshole can have the couch, Isabelle, you want to come sleep in my room?” she asks, and Isabelle visibly tenses, it's obvious she's hesitant to share a space with someone else she doesn't know. She looks up at Damien, who also does not seem to like the idea either.

Damiens about to intervene, most likely to suggest a different idea, but Isabelle speaks first. “Yeah… that, that sounds good. '' she whispers, i can tell that damien still plans to protest, but i think it'll be good for vix to make new friends, she's not normally this open to sharing her space with others. I think she and isabelle will be good friends. “Before bed, we should clean isas wound.” atlas chimes in, addressing the entire group for the first time since we got here.

And before any of us can react, vix has whisked Isabelle away into the bathroom, leaving the rest of us in the living room alone.

I'm not THE happiest with how this chapter came out, but... yay! New characters!