Xavier Cooper
rating: +20+x


my silly little xoggy
anyways, I hope you liked this goober

Squeezing through a corridor of pipes, I expected to only hear my thoughts and the gentle flowing of who-knows-what through the ducts surrounding me. Instead, my ears were met with the sound of rapid footsteps, followed by a trembling yelp. This wasn't the yell of an entity, but of a person.

A person? I hadn't seen anyone since I fell in. Was somebody else as fortunate as me to fall out of the world?

While lost in my own introspection, the stranger's wails became full-on cries for help. It seemed their shrieks originated from only a little way down the hall I crawled into. I didn't respond, keeping quiet just in case other monsters are lurking nearby.

I began sprinting towards their location, with the rush of adrenaline I didn't know I had in me. I turned the corner, pipe in hand.

What I didn't expect was to see a grown-ass man cowering, cornered by a Hound. Granted, I'd normally also cower in the presence of a Hound, but usually that's because a Hound tries to attack you. This one was just standing there, albeit menacingly.

"I'll- I'll fucking do it! Don't think I won't —uh transfuse you!"

The Hound just turned its head, unaware of the imminent threat of transfusion.
The man was holding nothing but a hand mixer, after all.

I approached behind the Hound, with the pipe in my grasp ready to strike. To my surprise, it turned around and began snarling at me. I looked over at the guy and saw him fiddling with the mixer, trying to detach one of the whisks.

Right as the Hound began to leap at me the man shrieked.

He chucked one of the whisks at the Hound, hitting it square in the face.
I stood there dumbfounded as the Hound whimpered and scurried off, leaving me and Mr. Hand Mixer staring at each other with mutual confusion.

"Nice throw," I said nonchalantly to ease the tension. He crawls over to grab the whisk before standing up to face me.

"Cool shoes, I like your shoelaces."


"Are they Vans?"
He pursed his lips while his eyes dart to the side, pausing for a while, then back to me.

"Uh, yeah, they are. Why?"
My eyebrows furrow; he notices my confusion with his question.

"Sorry, I mean, thanks for distracting that thing for me."
He jammed the whisk back into the "transfuser" and dusted off his sleeves.

"You seem like you'd post hashtag 80s stuff, you're super 80s, especially with that blazer. Where did you thrift it?"
His eyes sparkle with curiosity.

"I didn't thrift this. I found it on a dead Faceling, I didn't think it would mind the cold anymore. It looked like one I saw in the mall a while back and really wanted."

"I only get my clothes from Hot Topic, at least I did until the mall closed down."

"Sucks that it closed down, but couldn't you just go to another one?"

"Nope, that was the last one for miles."

"Far out."

"Yeah, miles out. Like I said."

"No, I mean like—"

"Oh. okay, okay I get it, but who even says that?!"

"What are you talking about? Did you beat your head with that mixer when you fell in?"

"Mixer? This isn't just a mixer."

"Okay but like, how did you fall in exactly?"

"So like, I didn't exactly fall in. I turned the thingy on and one of the ends hit my table and shifted me though the wall. Next thing I knew I ended up here."

"Well, how does the hand mixer— sorry, Transfuser work?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I didn't know what to expect when I turned it on. I did have to follow a video tutorial to figure out that the whisks do the mixing, not the hook thingies."

"Did your Transfuser come with an instructional tape?"

"Haha. Okay, this is really funny and all, and I respect the commitment to the eighties bit, but can we just speak as normal people?"

"I'm not doing a bit. I thought you were trying to be funny."

"Oh. I think I get it now."

"Yeah… okay, how long have you been here?"

"Like a month or two."

"Well now I need to know, what year did you come from?"


"Oh damn! Are there like, flying cars yet?"

"This isn't like Back to the Future; you'd probably be disappointed with how everything turned out."

"Huh, so that movie is still relevant then?"

"—Yeah, I guess. Oh, also, I never caught your name."

I didn't really have an reply for him yet. I'd never had the chance to just go along with what I felt about myself before. But, I had to say something of course. So I just, simply…

"My name is Saoirse."

"Come again?"

"S- Saoirse."

"…I'm not even going to guess how to spell that."
I didn't actually know how to spell it either, truth be told.

—Alright, that's enough reminiscing for now. I need to focus.

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