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Dec 14, 2025

Earthling pt. 1

Borrower!Dal and The Doom Slayer AKA Flynn. Takes place sometime during DOOM Eternal. SFW g/t interactions. 18 pages long, with plans to continue. Enjoy!

It was like an endless ocean of fire. Stretching out across the cityscape, an entire fault line had split the ground in two under a red sky one day. And out of the earth, the fiery pit of white-hot magma, came monsters. Demons, as they were more accurately called. But monsters, nonetheless.

Hordes of the horned beasts swarmed the land, slaughtering every human in sight. It was quite literally the stuff of nightmares, how entire cities were painted with the blood of its citizens over the course of a single day.

As casualties rose into the billions, there were a select few that survived. Namely people that happened to be so small that they could hide from the monsters. Perhaps even less known than the demons in folklore were the race of borrowers- humans that rarely exceeded three inches in height. Named for their habit of “borrowing” things from the much larger humans that were completely unaware of their presence, despite the tiny people quite literally living in their walls.

Dal was one of those borrowers. Previously living on her own in an apartment complex, she was quite accustomed to the safety of the indoors, and the luxuries the larger humans provided with their sturdy housing- everything came crashing down on that fateful day, and every person in the area was gone, just like that.

Going outside before the demonic invasion was already scary enough. Now Dal had nothing but a pack of things and the clothes on her back to take with her through the ruined streets to fend for herself. Yes, a three inch tall person, traveling alone out in the open. It was downright suicidal.

And yet, she was met with rather few threats. The occasional monster or zombified human soldier might shamble by, but there was always plenty of rubble for her to hide behind. In the back of her mind was a map of the city that she memorized at one point- she just had to get to the other side of town, where there were trees and grass and a pond. Anything but these vacant streets of concrete, where all of the food was either scavenged up or incinerated.

The tiny traveler’s hopes were dashed when she came across a chasm that split the city in two. That definitely wasn’t on the map. She felt like the hair on her head might burn off if she got too close to the edge- the other side of the city barely visible on the other side, distorted by heat.

Determined still, she turned back and headed along the chasm, hopping over rubble and concrete chunks. It had to end eventually, right?

The more she walked, the more tired and hungry and thirsty she got. There was no water here anymore, just ash. It felt like she was in hell itself, though she was fairly certain she wasn’t dead… yet.

There were times where she thought she saw a human, but each time turned out to be nothing but a hologram. The tall glowing figure was often of a woman, saying some sort of speech about the demons, or “mortally-challenged”. Apparently “demon” was an offensive term. There was also talk of the “Slayer”, an enemy of the hologram people and the mortally-challenged.

Well, in Dal’s mind, if the Slayer was here to kill those monsters, then she’d almost want to thank that monster.

Sadly, she was starting to realize that she may not see another living being again. It had been days, days of traveling on such small legs through a desolate wasteland. Her already meager rations were depleted, and the heat only seemed to be increasing. With her dark grey jacket tied around her waist and jeans rolled up to the knee, precious perspiration dripped from her face.

A typical human might last three weeks without food, and even less time without water. Shrink that human down to 1:24 scale and that window quickly becomes much smaller as well.

Dal had two days before succumbing to dehydration. That was the absolute maximum, as she was already feeling the effects of it since running out of water the day before. That meant she had until the end of the day to find water.

If there were any plants left in the city, she could gather the dewdrops from their leaves each morning. It seemed that the invaders had a hatred for all earth life, as there was nothing but ash and coals where urban trees and shrubs should have been.

It was there, at the entrance of a ruined subway station, that she finally succumbed to the elements. While scaling a more-than-likely dried-up fountain, Dal suddenly found that she had no strength left in her grip.

She fell, tumbling down the stone a full two feet- several stories high to someone like her, and passed out on the bottom.

Her body lay there, unmoving. To the untrained eye, she could easily be mistaken for a piece of discarded trash, or a broken doll. Not even the blast of a shotgun stirred her, the sound echoing in the subway tunnel.

For the first time, she wasn’t alone.

With a single leap down a flight of stairs came a hunter. An armored figure of a man slipped a few shells into his shotgun as he passed by the fountain where Dal lay. Through his helmeted visor he spied the sludge-filled basin of the fountain, utterly undrinkable by anyone’s standards. Not that this particular armored man was in need of any drink at the time.

He was the Doom Slayer.

The very Slayer that was spoken of by the hologram people. The scourge of demons, of hell itself. A walking arsenal of deadly weapons who had slain countless monsters. They were his prey, and Earth was just teeming with his quarry.

And yet, the hulking man of armor halted briefly in his hunt for blood. He knelt at the foot of the fountain and looked down at what appeared to be the limp shape of a human smaller than his thumb.

His face was unreadable through the darkened visor of his helmet. A gloved hand reached down and prodded Dal’s side, her unconscious body yielding no response. Wordlessly, the Slayer brought his other hand down and nudged the tiny, limp body into his palm with the opposite index finger.

He determined that she was alive, barely, as he held her up to his visor. The Slayer held his gaze on her for a moment before standing up to his full height, fingers splayed as he contemplated the fact that he had an entire little life in the palm of his hand.

This was no place for her. Leaving the little human here to die was out of the question.

And with that, the Doom Slayer closed his hand around the unconscious Dal and tilted his chin up, loosening the collar around his neck with his free hand before carefully rolling her off his palm and into the inner layer of his armor padding. She’d be secure there, against his neck, while he continued his mission.

Through the thick of it all, the Slayer carried out his slaughter of the inhuman, diving deeper into the city’s quarantine zone with shotgun in hand and blood on his fists. Every now and then he’d shake off blood and brains before touching two fingers to his throat, checking on the unconscious little life he carried along with him- Dal’s entire being just slumped between his collar and neck.

Hang in there. The Slayer’s mind would buzz with the sentiment whenever he wasn’t focused on murder. He could only hope that the tiny, perhaps shrunken human would make it until he was back in the Fortress of Doom- his base of operations in orbit above Earth’s atmosphere.

The Slayer was swift on his feet, more swift than any human. With the aid of VEGA’s portals, the artificial intelligence that ran operations from the fortress, the Slayer’s travel efficiency was increased tremendously. It wasn’t long before he was exiting the glowing blue ring and making his way across the bridge of his fortress up in orbit, the burning planet of Earth visible in the distance.

He did not forget about his little stowaway. The Slayer strode swiftly through the dark corridors and down into his armory, where he kept all of his personal belongings. Before removing Dal from his person, he took his helmet off his head and set it off to the side.

The Slayer then reached into his collar and carefully withdrew Dal, her limp body dangling between his thumb and forefinger. He cleared off his computer desk and set her down on the mouse pad, the softest surface he could think of.

Thick brows raised on the Slayer’s face as he regarded the borrower. He set her down on her back, using his fingertips to manipulate her limp limbs into a neutral pose.

God, she was small. So very small that he had to grab his computer chair and sit down heavily, his armored body creaking in his seat as he leaned his face over her. He turned his cheek to the side and leaned in slowly, until he grazed her body.

Then he waited with bated breath, waited for her to breathe.

It was faint, but Dal’s minuscule breaths just barely tickled the fine hairs on his cheek. He exhaled and pulled back, looking down at her with his piercing green eyes. So, she was unconscious. At least she was still alive.

The Slayer then held up his gloved hand, moving to touch her again. He frowned, realizing that not only were his gauntlets utterly soaked in blood, but he had transferred much of that to the tiny human’s body as well.

He opted to just observe, determining that she at the very least was not injured- at least not visibly. No cuts or infections, though even he could guess that she suffered some blunt trauma from a fall. But at that he could only guess; if he prodded her body further he may risk worsening any injury.

The Slayer clenched his hand into a fist in frustration. He was not exactly accustomed to treating human’s injuries, and especially not ones so… fragile. He was the Doom Slayer, for crying out loud. A human that small in his hands could become a fine, bloody paste with a simple flex.

So, this teeny tiny human was unconscious, laying on his desk. She would surely die if he didn’t do something, anything. He brought her here in the first place, so with a deep sigh, the Slayer got up and decided to follow through with the rescue.

He left the room swiftly, returning with an armful of items that he dropped on the desk. He shot a quick glance at the unconscious human, unmoving from their place on his desk, before fiddling with an unopened first aid kit. The Slayer picked up a few cotton swabs, cursing under his breath as his fingers left bloody marks on the clean, white swab. He knew he should just remove his gauntlets, but there was simply no time- his armor wasn’t exactly a slip-on, slip-off sort of deal. There was an entire machine in his armory designed just for adding and removing his suit with multiple robotic arms.

After tossing several bloodied swabs aside, he took the cleanest one he could hold, then Slayer twisted the cap off an unopened bottle of water between his teeth and dipped it in. He then sat heavily down in his chair again and braced his elbows on the desk, the tiny human between them as he leaned over and ever so gently dabbed the wet cotton swab on the smallest forehead he had ever seen.

The cool water woke Dal up, blue eyes blinking in the midst of long bangs. She winced, mouth parted as she moved to sit up despite the searing pain in her side.

“Water…” she rasped, fingers touching her lips as the liquid soaked her face. She couldn’t remember much since passing out, but her body was acutely aware of its needs.

The Slayer pulled the cotton swab away, his hulking body stone-still as he stared down at the tiny human on his desk. He succeeded in waking her out of unconsciousness, but he was not prepared for what to do next.

Dal’s eyes trailed up the massive plate of armor in front of her. It just kept going, up and up, until she craned her head all the way back and was met with… a face.

A massive, masculine face, with a scowl and fierce eyes that bore right into her.

A human.

“Oh god-” she froze, her heart like ice as she sprawled under the giant’s gaze. He was so close, she could feel his breath on her skin.

The Slayer’s gaze was unknowingly fierce, unaccustomed to relaxing any of the muscles in his face. When he noticed the tiny one’s reaction upon waking, he swallowed thickly and wordlessly stared back at her wide blue eyes.

Dal clutched her chest, scooting back with her legs. “No, no!” She wailed. This was it, she was going to be killed! Humans were dangerous, and this angry-looking man was no exception.

The Slayer was all too familiar with the little one’s fear response. Even normal humans squirmed in his presence, despite his prey consisting only of the demonic, or those that seek to destroy humanity. And yet something in his chest thrummed at the sight of her scuttling back in terror, such a tiny little life.

He slowly sat back in his chair and drew his arms towards him so he was no longer leaning over her. The Slayer gripped the edge of his desk as he watched the tiny human flounder around on the cushioned pad.

Dal watched as the huge man withdrew, those pale eyes still watching her. She dared not look away, but in her peripherals she could determine that she was on a desk, with several screens lit up behind her. And the man… he had to be a soldier of some sort. The last kind of human she’d expect to help her, really. She couldn’t help but notice the strong stench of viscera coming from him… which only made her nausea worse.

Dal would have ran, if it weren’t for the searing pain in her side. She had scooted back as far as she could make it… which was about 4 inches along the desk, nearly to the edge of the cushioned mouse pad. Not even close to being out of range of the human’s hands. She couldn’t quite understand why this human was just silently watching her, not making any attempt to stop her from trying to escape.

Just then, she jolted as the man lifted his arm- his massive, gauntleted arm. Her eyes were glued to that hand of his as he reached over the table and picked up an open plastic bottle of water.

Water.

Dal gaped, lips chapped and dry as she sprawled on the desk, desperately thirsty. Her prayers were answered as the huge man poured out a capful of water and used his fingertip to nudge it closer, leaving a smear of red on the desk.

The Slayer cursed at himself for being so filthy, but the tiny one paid it no heed as he watched her scramble over to the bottle cap and scoop water to her face hastily. It was a rather pathetic sight, yet he found himself endeared by how big the cap was to her. She could almost bathe in it.

Speaking of, the Slayer determined that he was in need of a hose down. He was unaccustomed to having guests in his home, which was really just a fortress acting like a space station, and had gotten used to going days without cleaning himself up. The fortress’s automatic cleaning robots usually took care of most of the filth he dragged in with him.

While Dal was preoccupied with drinking, the Slayer slid back on his chair and stood up, walking out of the room and heading towards the shower. Dal looked up briefly to see him leave, and relief fell on her face. She drank her fill and huddled up next to the cap, touching her tender ribs.

So, the soldier was most likely helping her. He was still what he was, however… a human. And humans were not to be trusted, not by a borrower. She glanced around the big room, with dark walls and a high ceiling lit by circular ring lights in the center. It looked to be more like a dungeon than anything, with weapons decorating the walls and pieces of armor strung up on a workbench in the middle.

Despite the dungeon allegory, to the left of the room was a wall lined with… guitars, of all things. Three of them, with a huge demon skull above the middle one. Further down was a skateboard propped against the wall, and another desk littered with CDs and vinyls and a very old boxy computer.

Just who was this man? Part time soldier, part time hoarder?

As Dal’s gaze circled back around the room, she noticed that the wall behind her was hardly a wall at all, and a wide window spanned it. Blue, glowing energy slithered along the edges of the glass and… no.

That couldn’t be.

Was she in space?

With newfound strength, the tiny human clambered along the desk, standing directly under one of the monitors as she looked up at the window. Inky blackness covered the sky, littered with distant stars. A view she had only ever seen in movies and pictures… undoubtedly it was the never ending firmament that surrounded the planet.

The planet itself, Earth, was in the distance. Its circumference glowed amid the blackness, an uncharacteristic shade of red for the Blue Planet.

Dal’s heart sank. So the chasm of lava she had seen was not limited to just that one… the entire planet was covered in them, so big and bright that they could be seen from space.

She whimpered, huddling up under the monitor on the hard desk.

After a while, the Slayer had returned. Dal flinched from her fetal position, glancing over at the intricate automatic door opening up at the top of a short flight of stairs. The soldier had removed his armor and was now wearing more casual wear; loose jeans, sneakers and a white t-shirt that looked to be a smidge too tight around his rather herculean build.

The man walked right up to the computer desk, eyes on the little one that had moved off the mouse pad and underneath one of his monitors. He set down a few things on the desk and angled his gaze down at Dal, who watched him intently.

“Here.” The man spoke, finally, as he picked up an unopened bag of chips he had brought and pulled the seam open- a little too hard, and set it down with the open end facing the little one.

“Eat.” He said curtly before stepping over to the end of the desk and rifling through the first aid kit.

Dal stared up at him in surprise. A human offering her food? She knew that trick. As soon as she’d be preoccupied with the food, that’s when the human snatches her up!

But… she was actually starving. And the chips smelled really good… takoyaki flavor? Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to take just one.

The Slayer’s face changed to the faintest hint of a smile as he saw the tiny human reach into the bag out of the corner of his eye. In the meantime, he was fiddling with the first aid kit. Its contents were emptied and he held up the square metal tin, making sure the lid was firmly in place before taking out a large pocket knife and cutting a rectangle in the middle that he peeled open, leaving the flap of metal sticking out. He then punched a few more slits along each side, widening them to half an inch.

Dal watched from the edge of the chip bag and a mouthful of crunchy goodness as the huge man set down the altered tin, popping open the top before setting a small folded-up square of soft fabric inside and closing the lid. He then set the entire tin on the desk, sliding it closer to Dal with the cut opening facing her.

She stared at what looked to be some sort of house, made out of the metal tin. The fabric he set inside must have been put there as a tiny bed.

“Sorry… is this for me?” She asked, glancing up at the hulking man, who nodded in response.

“Yes. For privacy.” The Slayer said as he folded and pocketed his knife.

“Oh.” Dal blinked, setting down a chip as she hesitantly walked closer to the tin.

“Do you have a change of clothes?” The Slayer asked, gesturing with his enormous hand towards her tiny self.

Dal shook her head. She started to wonder why he would ask her that, and her gaze went down to her black shirt and jeans, both smeared with dried blood.

“Ew!” She whined as she grasped the edge of her shirt and pulled it outwards. After everything that has happened, her cleanliness was the last of her worries. Now that she was fed and quenched her thirst, she wanted nothing more than to bathe.

The Slayer’s frown intensified at her disdain. The blood was his fault, of course. Here he was, cleaned up before his tiny guest was. Hospitality was not his strong suit, but at least the tiny one was eating and drinking.

“You can keep eating, if you want. I’ll get a bath ready.” The Slayer said before turning and walking away from the desk.

“A bath?” Dal asked, but the man was already gone. She couldn’t understand why this soldier guy was being so nice to her. Even still, she had no idea why she was in space, or why he brought her here in the first place.

She eyed the metal tin house beside her before checking her hands for more blood. She felt too dirty to continue eating, but perhaps she could make use of that tin, after all. The borrower wiped her hands on the back of her jacket, which was presumably the cleanest part, and hobbled over to the chip bag. There she stacked fist-sized pieces of chip and carried them with her to the makeshift door of the tin and slowly walked inside.

It was dark, aside from the slit windows on each side that let in some light. Dal set the chip stack beside the door and walked over to the folded fabric, which seemed to be cut from a human’s shirt. It was soft to the touch, and actually seemed like it would be quite comfortable to lay on.

The soldier hadn’t returned yet, so Dal leaned in and huddled into the fabric, sighing as she did so. After days of traveling and passing out from dehydration, this warm bed and dark room was a welcome luxury.

Dal actually drifted to sleep for a moment before being woken up by a loud tap. She yelped from inside the tin, realizing the soldier was trying to get her attention.

“Bath’s ready. Sleep afterwards.” The Slayer growled, though there was no real bite to it. It was just his naturally deep and raspy voice coming through.

Dal crept out from the doorway and looked up at the looming man sheepishly. She didn’t mean to fall asleep, so why did he sound so angry? He was the one who made the house for her.

The Slayer took note of how frightened the little one looked, and he took a long, deep breath.

“I meant… you shouldn’t sleep in those dirty clothes.” He said, making sure to clarify what he actually meant to say without using such curt phrases. Boy, when was the last time he had even spoken? Felt like ages ago.

“Oh.” Dal said softly, realizing what he said now made sense. Communicating with humans was… challenging. She felt like if she somehow says the wrong thing, she’ll be punished for it.

“Come. I’ll carry you.” The Slayer urged as he set his hand down on the desk, palm facing upwards.

There was his hand, set right before her. Dal froze. This wasn’t right. Willingly climbing into the hand of a human? This went against everything she knew.

The Slayer sensed her hesitation and let out a sigh. “It’s alright. I won’t hurt you.”

Dal glanced up at him, her hand against her chest. Even if he was lying, what choice did she have? She couldn’t exactly get down from the desk, not in her condition.

His hand waited patiently in front of her while she gathered the courage to step forward. One foot after the other, she approached his upturned hand, placing her own hands on the edge of his palm before swinging her leg up onto it.

The Slayer watched as the tiny one slowly got into his hand. Her minuscule limbs barely registered to him against his calloused, bare palm. She set down timidly in the middle of his palm, waiting for him to lift her up.

Dal chewed on her lip anxiously as she felt the man’s warm skin underneath her. Each one of his fingers was larger than she was, curled up and towering over her head as he cupped his hand and lifted her off the desk, taking her along with him.

The Slayer was awed by the lack of any weight to the tiny woman in his hand. He could almost forget she was even there… not that he would. He was far too invested in this miniature person. He held his hand against his stomach as he walked, securing his delicate cargo further.

Dal went wide-eyed as the man’s middle became a solid wall beside her. He walked quite steadily, seemingly being mindful of how much his movements might jostle her in his hand.

“Got a name?” The Slayer asked as he strode through the halls.

Dal paused as she looked up at his face- which was impossible to see past his impressive rack. She had never given her name to a human before.

“...Dal.” She said, trying to lean in his hand and see past his chest with no luck. “What about you?”

The Slayer paused at that. She didn’t know who he was?

“What about me?” He asked, sounding confused.

“What’s your name?” Dal clarified.

The Slayer thought about her question. No one had really… asked his name before. He wasn’t even sure that he had one. Everyone knew who he was and had their own names for him… Doom Slayer, Great Slayer, sometimes just Slayer or The Slayer. Separately, the demons regarded him as The Beast, Unchained Predator, The Scourge of Hell.

Titles, that was all he was known by. Not exactly something he’d want to say to Dal, who specifically asked for his name.

“...Flynn.” He finally said, thinking back to his book collection, namely The Life and Times of Flynn Taggart. Not a bad read, and the man in question was long dead and surely wouldn’t mind if his name was borrowed.

“Nice to meet you, Flynn.” Dal nodded, clutching the man’s hand as he carried her along. Flynn, a fitting name for a soldier, she thought. Indeed, she was completely oblivious to the fact that he was the Doom Slayer. In her mind, the Doom Slayer was an inhuman monster that ate demons.

In truth, she was not far off.

The Slayer… Flynn, grunted in response and entered the bathroom, where he had prepared a warm shallow bath for his little guest. Rather than using the sink, he opted to fill a small dish with an inch of water along with a small cube of soap he carved off from the bar. The dish sat on a hand towel beside the sink, where he set Dal down.

“I’ll wash your clothes if you’ll take them off.” Flynn said as he stood beside the sink, watching.

Dal walked up to the dish, the sides of it quite high, but manageable. She then looked up at Flynn with an incredulous expression.

“...not while you’re watching.” She uttered, clutching the hem of her blood-stained shirt.

Flynn stared at her, dumbfounded for a moment, then grimaced. Of course, she’s a lady. A tiny one, but a lady regardless. He clenched his jaw and nodded, glancing around the bathroom for some sort of cover up.

Dal watched as the huge man perused the bathroom- which was rather plain and minimally furnished, before returning to the sink with a hardcover book in hand. He opened it up and set it in front of the dish, effectively turning the book into a makeshift changing room.

“Right. Just set the clothes on the end and I’ll wash them while you bathe.” Flynn said as he stepped back from the sink and folded his arms over his chest.

Dal glanced around at the towering book around her, deeming it appropriately safe to start pulling off her dirty clothes. Like most borrowers, she had made or modified each article of clothing herself. Her jacket, mostly grey, was covered in sewn patches of bright sky blue- her favorite color. Her black shirt was just a simple cropped tee, though her pants were thin denim with a few blue patches on the thighs.

She set her clothes in a neat little pile at the edge of the book, sliding them forward as far as she could without stepping out into view while completely naked.

Flynn waited patiently for her to get into the dish bath before taking her clothes. He reached forward, angling his gaze away from the top of the book that he very easily could see over at his tall height of 6’8”, and pinched the teeny tiny pile of clothes between his thumb and forefinger.

He got to work filling another dish with warm water and soap, dropping the clothes in and rolling each one between his fingers in the water to scrub the filth off. After rinsing them in clean water, he took a paper towel and laid each piece on it, then folded it over several times and squeezed the water out.

As he cleaned her clothes for her, Dal found it surprisingly easy to relax in the warm dish, despite her bruised ribs. If weren’t for the fact that she was in soapy water, she thought about how she was basically in a soup bowl. It was weird to think of her bathtub being used previously for its intended purpose. At least it was clean before being filled with bath water.

After scrubbing herself clean with the chunk of white soap, she wondered what Flynn was up to. Was he really able to get her clothes clean, and most importantly, dry?

“I’m about done with my bath.” Dal said loudly into the empty bathroom ceiling.

Flynn, who was still squeezing the ever-loving hell out of her tiny clothes, looked over to the book-covered bath. He opened up the paper towel and examined them before deeming them as dry as he could get them. He set the laid-out clothes on the paper towel at the edge of the book and also reached around with a small square of paper towel for Dal to dry off with.

As Dal climbed painfully out of the bowl, she wrapped up in the paper towel and looked at her clothes. They seemed quite clean and dry- how convenient a human’s enormous hand can be.

She dressed herself up and stepped out from behind the book, still shaking droplets from her dark grey hair, streaked with white across her bangs.

“That was… really nice. Thank you, Flynn.” She smiled at the stoic man, who was waiting patiently with his arms folded.

Flynn looked down at her and for once his face was not completely furrowed into a scowl. He regarded the tiny woman with increasing fondness- a strange but not unwelcome change of pace from his usual routine of demon slaying.

“You must be tired.” Flynn said as he took a few steps closer to the sink, closing the book and setting it down while he emptied and rinsed the dish in the sink.

Dal couldn’t help but flinch as the hulking man approached, still not accustomed to being so close to a human. Yet, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wasn’t just tired… she was exhausted.

“Yeah, I could use some rest…” Dal said as she fiddled with her clothes that were ever so slightly still damp.

Flynn set the dish aside and again presented his hand to Dal, who only hesitated briefly before climbing back into his palm. She winced as she rolled against her tender side, prompting Flynn to investigate.

“You’re hurt?” He asked, bringing his hand up to his face to look at his tiny guest closer.

Dal’s eyes went wide as his face filled her vision, his bright green eyes boring into her. Too close.

“N-no.” She lied, not wanting to incite further investigation.

“You’re a bad liar.” Flynn sighed, lowering his hand from his face. “Likely got hurt when you passed out and fell. Bruised or cracked rib. It’ll heal eventually but you need to rest for several weeks.”

Dal blinked as he accurately diagnosed her injury and how it came to be. He did find her unconscious body at the base of a wall, it made sense that she had fallen off of it.

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” She said softly, wincing as she touched her ribs.

Flynn cupped her in his hand against his chest as he walked. “Yes you do. The first aid kit.” He replied.

Dal was speechless. He’s a human, allowing her to stay in his home? Or maybe this was more of a barracks.

“Are… you sure?” She peeped, looking up at Flynn’s face from his hand. “You’ve already done so much for me…”

Flynn shook his head. “You don’t take up much space.” A hint of a smile appeared on his lips. “Have you always been this small?”

“Er, yes. We’re not supposed to be seen by humans, but…” she trailed off.

“There’s more like you?” He asked, curiosity in his deep voice.

“There were.” Dal bit her lip. “We’re called borrowers. We’d hide from humans in their houses and take little things that they didn’t need. I don’t know if there are any more of us left, though.”

Flynn paused, eyes trailing down to the tiny borrower in his hand. “You been living by yourself?”

“Yeah. I’m old enough to.” Dal said, meeting the big man’s gaze.

“How old are you, anyways?” Flynn asked, perhaps a bit too hastily.

“...25? What about you?” She asked, and he suddenly looked away, off into the distance.

Flynn laughed to himself. Dal was under the impression that he was just a regular human. He was the Doom Slayer, an immortal man that no longer showed signs of age and cannot die of natural causes. His strength was immeasurable, so great was his rage that hell itself had ancient testaments written about him, even gave him the Mark of the Beast- his own symbol to warn all demonkind to fear him and him alone.

Age was no longer even a concept to him.

“30.” He said, thinking it to be the most accurate to his physical appearance. He may have underestimated a little.

Dal looked up at him and tilted her head. He looked a bit rough for being 30. At least when she first saw his face, all furrowed and angry. Since then he had softened up a little in his expression, though his face still showed signs of wear, an almost ancient quality that was hard to describe. His hair was a pure, dark brown- not a single grey hair.

“You’re a marine, right? Like, a space marine?” She asked, getting more curious about Flynn.

“You got it.” Flynn replied. That wasn’t inaccurate- he was a marine on Mars, a very long time ago.

Dal looked around the tall dark walls of the fortress’s corridors. It wasn’t exactly what she imagined a military space station to look like.

“Are there other people here?” She asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice. She found herself subconsciously clinging to Flynn’s hand.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by the Slayer. “Just me.” He said, cupping his hand a little tighter against Dal’s body. “And you, now.”

The borrower’s eyes widened at that. Flynn was acting so… kind. Kind enough to regard her as a person when most humans saw her kind to be inferior… pests, even.

As he carried her back to the workshop, he set his hand down on the desk where the makeshift house was. Dal rather reluctantly climbed off his hand and stood on the desk looking around. Her eyes trailed up Flynn’s massive, thick torso that towered over her.

“Get some sleep.” He ordered, topping off the bottle cap with more water and pulling the chip bag closer to the metal tin.

Dal watched as he turned to leave, biting her lip. “Flynn!” She called, and he halted in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder.

“Thank you.” She said, and he gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.

“Don’t mention it.” He grunted, turning to leave again, then stopped and looked back over to his tiny guest. “If you need anything, just holler. I’ll be over here.” And at that, the man turned to the opposite desk that was piled with gun parts and started picking up pieces and examining them.

Dal watched as Flynn turned his big back to her, relief flooding over her as he hadn’t left the room as she thought he would. This place was too big, too cold for someone who spent the majority of her life in cozy nooks.

Even as she went inside the little tin house and curled up on the cloth pile bed, she didn’t fall asleep readily. She could hear Flynn tinkering with mechanical objects in the distance, reminding her that he was still nearby.

She found herself wanting, but not knowing what. Maybe she just wanted an excuse to get Flynn’s attention, to feel his big, warm hand around her again… hear his heart thrumming in his chest.

No, stop thinking like that! He was a human, and how could she forget the layers of blood on his hands? Whether it was human, animal, or monster blood… she didn’t even want to know. All she knew was that he was a killer, and it was best not to invite him closer unless she had to.

When she woke up, she couldn’t tell what time it was. The ambient light in the workshop was constant, and being in orbit meant day and night were nonexistent. She felt like she had slept at least for a few hours, but could go for more… if it weren’t for how hungry she was feeling.

Dal crept out of the makeshift door and peeked around the desk. The chips and water were still there, and everything looked untouched. Flynn was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or lonely, knowing the only other person in this space station was gone.

It was another hour before she heard any activity in the fortress. The hiss of automatic doors opening told her that Flynn was on his way. The little borrower looked around the desk and hid a piece of gauze wrapping she had pulled off from the pile of med kit contents behind the tin.

The Slayer entered the room, wearing a grey tank top this time. He looked like he was fresh out of the shower, short brown hair glistening with moisture as he approached the computer desk.

Dal wasn’t sure how to act as the huge man stood over her. Should she look busy? Or should she be resting, or hiding? She more or less stood still and looked up at Flynn expectantly, glancing at his exposed arms and shoulders- absolutely mounded with muscle.

“Sleep well?” He asked, resting his hands on the edge of the desk. His face was more soft than it had been, like he was content with just chatting with his little guest.

Dal chewed on her lip and nodded, smiling as best she could. God, she was still so tired. All she wanted was to flop back down on her tiny, makeshift bed. But she didn’t want to be rude to the human that was kindly allowing her to stay.

“Yes, thanks.” She uttered as she studied Flynn’s face. He had an air of perpetual tiredness to him with how defined his features were- yet he looked at her with a glint in his eye. What made him so cheerful, she wondered?

The Slayer wasn’t about to tell the tiny one that he had just returned from a successful mission comprised of murder- his favorite past time. He also wouldn’t admit it, but having a guest in his fortress for the first time was exciting to him. At least he had the mind to sanitize his armor and clean himself before approaching this time.

“How about that injury?” Flynn asked, pointing to Dal’s side.

“Um, it still hurts, but I’ll be fine.” She said, touching her ribs. Truthfully she hadn’t even looked at it since waking up- no doubt it was a big black bruise.

Flynn didn’t like that answer very much. His brows furrowed in thought. If he brought her to the medical bay, what could he even do to help? A bruised rib typically healed on its own with the help of rest and painkillers. He could calculate the dosage of medication required for someone Dal’s size… roughly. It would take measurements of her height and weight to do so, and even then, he was no doctor.

“You should rest.” Flynn said, drumming his fingers on the desk in thought. “But, you also need to eat.” He mused, a reminder to himself as well.

The Slayer wasn’t exactly accustomed to eating regular meals, as his immortal body subsisted mainly from absorbing the essence of his demonic prey. Not exactly a gustatory experience. Considering Flynn could eat anything he wanted without consequence, his “meals” were usually a big bag of chips, candy, or cookies. He couldn’t remember the last time he cooked something.

“I’ve been eating the chips you gave me…” Dal replied, glancing over to the bag so large that she could live inside of it.

“Nah, you won’t survive off of those. You’re coming with me to the kitchen.” The Slayer urged as he laid his hand out for Dal to ride on.

Dal looked at his hand and paused. Did he say kitchen? As in, the place where humans make their meals and eat? She whimpered as she climbed into his hand with an almost funerary air. She may not make it out of there alive.

Flynn regarded her with confusion as he cupped her teeny little self in his palm. He expected her to be more excited about this… what did he do wrong? Perhaps he was being a bit bossy.

“Hey, I’m just looking out for you. I’ll do all the work, you can still rest.” He urged, holding her in his hand at a reasonable distance from his face.

Dal struggled to meet his gaze. She didn’t want to think about what sort of dish she’d get cooked into. Or maybe he’d skip the seasoning and just eat her whole?

“Okay,” she squeaked, glancing nervously into his green eyes. It was difficult to get the thoughts out of her head, not when her whole life was spent avoiding humans like him. Her heart screamed DANGER while Flynn’s face did not.

Flynn noticed her trepidation and merely huffed in mild exasperation. She was still quite scared of him, despite all he had done for her. No matter, he thought. Dal had gone through a traumatic experience of losing everything and being taken somewhere unknown… something he could relate to.

The Slayer braced his hand against his stomach again, keeping the little one steady in his palm as he walked. Despite Dal’s fears, she couldn’t deny the blissful comfort of riding in Flynn’s big, warm hand. He was something of a gentle giant, a hulking mountain of muscle with the most careful grip.

In truth, The Doom Slayer was far from gentle. He was known for being a killer- not just any killer, but one who goes out of his way to inflict as much pain as possible on the evil creatures he slaughtered, going so far as to using weapons that specifically prolonged their suffering.

But Flynn was a different story.

The Slayer donned his Praetor suit at night, and Flynn wore cotton tees during the day to ferry around a lady that fit in his palm.

Flynn came into the kitchen, a cursory glance to be sure the drones did a cleaning pass beforehand. He set Dal down on the metal counter, on a folded dish towel before rummaging through the cabinets.

Dal watched anxiously as the man rifled through his stock. The kitchen was nothing special- it looked to be modeled off of industrial restaurant kitchens, with stainless steel countertops and a large sink for washing dishes and preparing food. A gas stove was to her left, along with a large, flat griddle.

“Even I can’t mess this up.” Flynn said as he picked out a packet of freeze-dried food. “Just needs boiling water. Will you eat this?” He gestured to the packet, holding it up for Dal to see.

She squinted, then nodded. She had no idea what it was, but that didn’t matter. “I’m not picky…” she shrugged it off.

“Good, cause I wasn’t going to take no for an answer anyways.” Flynn said as he put a pot of water on the stove and turned it on.

Dal sat on the dish towel, watching the man reading the directions on the packet repeatedly. He looked like he was determined to get this whole food thing right. It was cute, really. She did her best to ignore her thoughts, the fact that she was just sitting on a counter where humans prepared food.

“You’ve been quiet.” Flynn said suddenly, and Dal whipped her head up at him. He was leaning heavily against the opposite counter, palms bracing the edge as he stared at her.

Dal chewed her lip again- a nervous habit. What could she say to him? That she suspected him of preparing to incorporate her into his meal, simply because he was a big, scary human? She made a vague gesture as she looked around the room.

“Just never been in a real kitchen before.” She said, glancing around the interior.

“Real… I suppose. Don’t expect anything fancy outta this.” Flynn grunted as he peeked at the pot of water.

“I don’t know what to expect anymore.” Dal half-laughed, thinking back to how the past week has been nothing but firsts for her… any many were worst of the worst. “Staying in a space station was most unexpected! Or maybe being carried by a human was.”

Flynn glanced at Dal, a hint of a smile on his face. So, his hand was the first to ever hold her? That made him more proud than he cared to admit.

“Take it a day at a time, I guess.” He said, taking the pot off the heat and dumping the packet in. After living for millennia between dimensions, he most certainly was not just guessing. But to Dal, who only knew him as 30 year old Flynn the marine... what more could he really say?

“I guess I can’t argue with that…” Dal said, watching as the man dished out what seemed to be pasta with a cream sauce and mushrooms. It smelled pretty tasty.

A bowl was filled for him, the same sort of bowl Dal used to bathe in. After crushing a single piece of macaroni under his fork, along with a mushroom, Flynn dished out Dal’s portion onto a flat metal bottle cap.

“Here. Your mouth is a lot smaller than mine.” He laughed for the first time as he presented the tiny dish on the towel for her.

Well that was an understatement.

Dal looked at the food, and was actually impressed that a human would even think to mangle the food into smaller pieces.

“Thank you!” She said before picking at the pasta pieces with her fingers, for lack of a utensil her size.

Flynn just watched her for a moment, looking pleased with himself. He had a knack for details, even the teeny tiny ones. Seeing Dal eat the food with her hands was cute, in the same way a small animal nibbling was. He’d have to come up with some sort of makeshift utensil for her.

Meanwhile, as Dal ate her fill of food, she sat back and glanced over to Flynn. She avoided watching him eat, but he had already finished the entire bowl. Astonishing… or perhaps not. He was a very large man, even from her perspective where every human was like a giant to her.

Flynn polished off the meal before depositing the bowl and fork in the sink for a rinse. Tasty, he thought. He had a feeling he’d be eating a lot of these meals alongside his small guest in an effort to keep her healthy.

“Alright, rest time for you.” He said as he leaned over the counter and peered at Dal, making sure she did eat.

Dal looked up at him and glanced at her sauced fingers. She wiped them on the towel she was sitting on before addressing the metal cap filled with cream sauce and some remaining bits of food.

“Sorry I couldn’t eat it all.” She said, and Flynn actually smiled this time before pinching the bottle cap between his fingers.

“I’ll finish whatever you don’t.” He muttered before swiping the cap clean with a single lick and tossing it into the sink. “Looks like you ate most of it though. Good work.”

Dal paused. Why did his commendation make her smile? She wasn’t a petulant, picky child that needed encouragement to finish her vegetables.

Whatever.

She climbed into his hand again and settled in as the big man took her through the dark halls. This place was like a maze- so many doors and corridors. She’d get lost for sure if she ever found herself wandering by herself.

As Flynn set his hand down on the computer desk, Dal hesitated to climb off. She looked up at him instead, clinging to his hand.

“Where do you sleep, Flynn?” She asked, and the man tilted his head in thought.

Well, he didn’t sleep. His immortal body didn’t tire, leaving him plenty of time to tear across the galaxy while others slept in their beds.

“The barracks.” He said, peering at the curious little one that stayed perched in his palm.

“Can I…” Dal paused, wracked by nerves. This was a bold thing to ask. “I… don’t like being alone here. It’s too big. Can I… sleep in the barracks too?”

Flynn’s face softened. His little guest was starting to become more like a housepet, following him everywhere. She was in for a big disappointment once she’d realize he can’t take her with him on missions.

Well, he thought… he was extremely efficient and finished his “work” quite quickly. He could leave for a few hours and be back before she’d even know he was gone.

“Fine. Let me get it ready.” He said, tilting his hand to nudge her off.

Dal beamed as she stood on the desk and watched him gather up the metal tin. He picked up the scrap of gauze she had hidden, and her heart froze- only for him to toss it into the tin along with anything else she might need. He then left the room, carrying her makeshift house in his hand.

After a little while, he returned, and cupped Dal in his hand to take her to the barracks. She buzzed with excitement, clutching Flynn’s hand as he carried her against his chest.

The barracks were nothing impressive- the large room was filled with bunk beds along the walls and miscellaneous boxes, as if the place was used as a storage room as well. In the corner was a pile of mattresses laid next to each other to form a larger bed- Flynn’s bed. It looked unused, neatly made.

Flynn set Dal down on a desk beside his bed, where he had set the tin house. He stood awkwardly, watching her take in her surroundings. This place was not much better than his workshop.

She looked up at him with a smile on her face, so that was good.

“I like it in here.” Dal said, nodding over at the big man’s bed. “Looks comfy!”

Flynn just nodded and grunted as he sat down on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes before swinging his legs up.

“It is. Get some sleep, now.” He said as he just laid back in his bed and raised his arms behind his head, tucking them underneath as his big chest rose and fell with his breaths.

Dal watched him for a moment, entranced by his large form laid out on the bed. He didn’t even bother to cover himself with a blanket? That was strange. She peered at his eyes, which were closed.

She had the feeling he was not going to sleep.

Dal shrugged. At least he was present, and quite close by to her little house now. She cupped her hands and shouted from the desk “Thank you, Flynn! Goodnight!” to him.

“Mmm.” Flynn grumbled in response.

Dal curled up in her little scrap of fabric, sighing to herself. She felt like she could sleep much more peacefully, this time. And she did.

The Slayer waited patiently for her to settle. Then as soon as he was sure she was asleep, he left the barracks. His Praetor suit was calling to him.

#doom #doom g/t #borrowers #doom slayer has such amazing giant energy #g/t writing #doomguy #doom slayer

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