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yanderes-galore · 4 months

Note

Can you do fluffy au ennard concept?

I had this idea written for a few days before my hiatus, so here it is finally!

Yandere! Fluffy AU! Ennard Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Clingy behavior, Gore, Graphic descriptions, Unethical experimentation, Parasocial companionship, Disturbing dark themes, Forced companionship, Dubious ending, Primarily just horror if I'm being honest.

Ennard is the pinnacle of ambition in this AU.

He (They?) are the result of Afton being drunk on power.

Why should he stop at anthropomorphic mascots?

What's stopping him from making a human/animal hybrid!?

Ennard is the result of an unknown human's DNA mixed with the DNA of Funtime Foxy and Freddy.

In a twisted way that would make him related to the two (as brothers… hopefully… *shutter*).

Ennard may not have any personality issues… but there's a whole lot of physical issues.

The skin visible on him (just his face) is unnaturally pale.

It also has seams like Foxy and Freddy.

Everything else?

A mess of fleshy tendrils and the occasional extra eye.

Ennard, in this AU, is an abomination.

Something that should have never existed.

A reason to not play God.

In all honesty, Ennard should have been put down.

He can barely replicate human speech.

He has little to no protection from the elements.

Yet what happens instead?

He evolves.

Like some creature from Resident Evil, instead of dying Ennard adapts.

The stench of blood announces his presence and he grows.

Soon he grows a protective layer over the exposed muscle he was born with.

Then he grows a set of vocal cords to mimic voices and tones.

The mess of human and animal flesh becomes something new.

A monster that Afton decides to keep alive due to the progress.

Ennard appears to get along with Freddy and Foxy and looks at them fondly.

But there's one person he gets along with the most.

You, an unfortunate scientist, meant to watch the underground layer of the facility.

Your line of work deals with the failures.

Things like Mangle or Funtime Freddy are under your care.

This also includes Ennard, who is kept locked away from all the rest.

He is different, he's highly adaptable and a potential danger.

He probably has a similar ability to Mangle that allows him to form with flesh.

(Which opens up the possibility of Molten Freddy and The Blob later on.)

He is dangerous and unstable.

So the job is to watch and appease him.

There's cameras in the cell, he's fed food, then there's time to socialize with him through a glass window and speaker.

Ennard acts similarly to a child as he develops.

The brain and mind adapt and grow like the rest of his body.

He repeats sign language you teach and when he has vocal cords he repeats words.

It's all very unnerving to you.

Ennard acts very human despite the appearance he takes.

Even then you catch him growling like an animal in frustration at times.

You have to remind yourself he isn't a human, he's a mess of DNA born into flesh.

Ennard listens to your words when you speak to him.

It's as though he has imprinted on you… seeing you as some sort of role model.

He often presses his pale and twitching face to the glass to get a good look at you.

You try to hold back your nausea when it happens.

You wonder how he lives like this.

You are quite thankful you're not allowed in his cell.

This is due to the growth and unknown abilities of Ennard.

Luckily you just have to sit and interact.

Much to Ennard's dismay… the creature really wishes he could be closer to you.

The glass is dumb to him… sadly, you have no idea how much of a bad idea teaching him is.

Your little lessons and interactions make him smarter.

Smart enough to the point he plots escape….

He can't get very far until Golden Freddy breaks out, but when that does happen?

Ennard is free… free to adapt, survive, and find freedom.

Their appearance by this point is vaguely human.

More skin has grown on… yet thick tendrils of muscle still twitch like tentacles around his body.

It's as though if he continues to grow… you may not be able to tell the difference between him and a human.

Except for the height and patches of what looks like white fur, at least.

Ennard's new goal is obviously to look for you.

He knows about the nice scientist in the glass box.

He wants to find you! He wants to finally be close to you!

While you try to evacuate the facility you hear warnings of all sorts of beasts in the underground level breaking out.

You do your best to gather research and prepare to escape.

Only to hear oddly heavy footsteps near you.

You turn… only to be met with the abomination you had tended to.

He's different, he's certainly grown more.

The many eyes he has stares into you with a look of adoration.

In a garbled tone he tries to express his feelings towards you.

You simply shake your head and cry… you scream… you want to leave.

Unfortunately, such a thing is not your fate…

You begin to realize that as the abomination closes in on you.

He can finally be closer to you… as close as he can be.

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf sister location #yandere fnaf fluffy au #yandere ennard #yandere fluffy au ennard

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silvercap · 5 days

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ough thats a lot of prompts woag. i would love to see what you think of with "pinned" or "buried" ? love to see a guy struggling with all his might but hopelessly trapped and in danger >:)

Ooohh absolutely 🤭 (for this prompt list)

Pinned/Buried

Leon can't breathe right. The first thing he's aware of when he swims shakily back to consciousness is how hard it is to suck in a full breath, entire ribcage aching when he tries. He groans, attempting to roll onto his side--only to cry out as his eyes fly open, ragged, excruciating pain shattering the dreamlike haze. It takes him a long time to focus, the slowly-building agony in his thigh making itself known at the same time as his left arm begins to throb, tingling like it's losing circulation. There's daylight pouring in from somewhere above him, autumn sunlight dappling a small sliver in the rock above him in vivid gold. He vaguely remembers that the weather had been nice before he and Piers' team had entered the underground laboratory, all rustling leaves and cool breezes. Speaking of, where is Piers?

It's then that he makes sense of the massive chunks of concrete pinning him in place, a glance downward revealing the spire of twisted rebar that plunges into the outside of his right thigh and keeps him from moving an inch in any direction. The rock it's protruding from is half leaning on Leon's chest and shoulder; not a huge piece of wreckage but still enough to make breathing hurt. His left arm--

Leon swallows down the urge to vomit, taking in the sight of his mangled left arm, hand pointing the wrong way and fingers crumpled like a wad of bloody notepaper, aching all the way from his upper arm to the tips of his nails. He whimpers. That can't be good, can it?

The sudden shriek of what can only be a licker freezes him in place, adrenaline flaring as he automatically tries to shoulder the piece of cement off of his body. It doesn't do much more than drive the metal spike even deeper into his leg, a stifled groan echoing around his small pocket of air. He blinks hazily as the world goes a fraction more out of focus, unable to do anything but stare up at the sky. The clouds are fluffy and white, like lines of sheep bobbing happily across the sky.

It's possible that he's hit his head, too.

The licker shrieks again, closer, Leon's muscles coiling as much as his broken body will allow as the thing peeks it's awful head over the edge of the nearest mound of rubble. It hisses, tasting the air with a long tongue, and Leon hopes against hope that it won't head in his direction. But of course it does, wicked claws scraping over crumbling stone as it creeps slowly down towards him.

Leon can't move a muscle.

#whump #ask game #my fics #drabbles #hehe thanks <33

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crisiscutie · 11 months

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Sephiroth using his tentacles to bind his darling and having them penetrate her nipples?

OG/Jenova!Sephy prompt time? Yes! HoS episode.

Content Warning: NSFW. Dubcon. Tentacles. Voice Kink. Milk Kink. Deepthroating. Cumflation. Nipple Penetration. Breast Play/Breast Expansion. Fisting. And some other kinks at play. This Sephy is his own warning, okay? Long headcanons below.

You sought him out, the leader Sephiroth. You've been feeling unwell.

You constantly felt as if you were being wrapped in a cocoon. You knew it was Jenova's energy surrounding you.

You felt so overwhelmed. All you want is to recall your memories and break the amnesia. Maybe she can have you then...

This Sephiroth always seems to do wonders when making you feel relaxed and better.

You used your free time to feel out for him, following the clues he may have left behind.

He wasn't in his quarters, so you followed the sound of murmured voices down to the basement.

There he was, rambling incoherently in front of his true, mangled body in the crystal.

You stifled your sobs upon seeing his true body. You were going to wait until he finished his rant, but this may be too much to bear...

Suddenly, his broad, muscular chest was in your view, his firm hand gripping your delicate wrist.

A warm, twisted smile appeared on his face.

"Heh... what do you have to be sad about?" He cooed, cupping your cheek with his gloved hand.

You nuzzled your cheek into his hand. Even if this Sephiroth is using a Jenova meat puppet, you still love his touch. You wonder how better his actual touch is.

As he tilted his head at you, his warm smile became a sly smirk, and his eyes narrowed.

"Hmph, still doing that. Just like back in the crater..."

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. You don't know what he meant by that.

What crater? As far as you could tell, there were no craters in the house or its surroundings.

His mako slit eyes then shone with a radiance that seemed to draw you in and wrap you in a spell.

Familiar pink-red tentacles had a distinct, sweet scent as they slithered around you, caressing your body before lifting you up into a supine position a few feet off the ground.

You moaned in relaxation as you felt a warm, veiny tentacle caress the small of your back.

Two skinny tentacles drifted upwards to gently stroke your breasts, eliciting a shiver of delight from you. They teased your nipples, trying to secrete your milk.

"Sephiroth, is now the time..."

You choked on your next words as you felt other tentacles prying your folds open, exposing your gushing, quivering wetness to Sephiroth.

A mini sucker tentacle singled out your clit, giving it a brief, teasing suck and then flicking it at Sephiroth.

The skinny tentacles on your tits became more aggressive.

They're squeezing your tits tightly as they coiled around them and tugged them.

"I don't have any... m-milk. The other Sephiroth drained me..." You murmured in pain, as the tentacles continued their ruthless assault.

"That's too bad." His stoic words hid his irritation and disappointment.

"You will have much more to spare after this, my love," his velvety, husky voice had a sudden, seductive edge to it.

His voice vibrated in your ears, causing a surge of heat that made your clit fully stand up.

The mini sucker tentacle that had been toying with your clit suddenly latched onto it with an intense force. You yelped in response.

You got slight relief when the tentacles abusing your poor tits halted their assault.

But that relief was quickly replaced with unease when you observed two larger tentacles lining up, hovering above you. They're wriggling with anticipation.

They're cock tentacles, accentuated with pleasure bumps. Clearly meant to penetrate your holes. What is he trying to do?

No, No, NO he can't possibly think...

Your unease became terror as the cock tentacles struck, just stopping when they managed to make your nipples bulge slightly.

The tentacles weren't in your tits, yet. Your eyes widened, seeing how your nipples became more distended as the cock tentacles slowly forced themselves in.

You pleaded with Sephiroth to end this, your words ridden with terror and desperation. Your nipples are NOT meant to be penetrated. This is too much, even for your durable body.

Your desperate pleas went unheard. He was in a trance, his gaze on you. He raised a hand to your cunt.

"Your eyes. Mother..."

With that, he plunged his hand into the depths of your moistness, synchronized with the tentacles that fully forced their way into your nipples.

Your tits became distended as the frenzied tentacles fucked them.

You drooled, gritting your teeth. You can't see it, but can feel the outline of the cock tentacles and their pleasure bumps within your tits.

The full length of the tentacles wasn't inside your tits. Not even at half length. Yet, your tits are already so full.

That's not even mentioning your stomach bulge. Courtesy of Sephiroth languidly fisting you, rambling about your eyes and Jenova.

The thickest cock tentacle yet moved closer to your wide-open mouth, its girth and weight pressing down on your lips.

It lacked any pleasure bumps, but it had a pronounced vein pattern and a flared tip.

It plunged itself into your mouth, making your head jerk back as it stretched every corner of your lips. And this is the cock head, not even the rest of the tentacle.

It eventually stuffed your tight throat, continuing its brutal thrusts. Your tongue could feel every vein of the threatening tentacle.

You don't know how you are enduring this. With your tits being brutalized, the bulge in your throat from the cock tentacle fucking it and Sephiroth's hand prodding your cervix, there has to be a limit, right?

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your climax approaches. Sephiroth's dark chuckles fill your ears when your walls tightened around his hand.

Your body would've gone limp if it hadn't for the lesser tentacles holding you up.

Your muffled scream was loud, even with the tentacle stuffed in your throat when you reached your climax.

Sephiroth withdrew his hand from your wet depths, briefly licking your juices off it.

The three cock tentacles came inside you, their corrupted fluid filling your tits and belly.

The tentacles in your breasts withdrew themselves gently, your nipples giving their exit no trouble.

Unlike the cock tentacle in your throat, who roughly jerked your head back and forth to get itself out. Your involuntary throat muscles were resilient in keeping it.

The tentacle's veins bulged as it used its mighty strength to finally withdraw itself from your throat and mouth, and your abused and exhausted body was shifted to sit in Sephiroth's lap.

He placed a soft, affectionate kiss on your neck while his gloved hand massaged your swollen belly, it making you appear as if you were heavily pregnant.

"I must make sure my darling is well-fed..."

His other hand slithered up to your breasts, now heavier and fuller than before.

"You should have a significant increase in your milk production now," He whispered.

He teased your nipples. They are not gaping as they quickly bounced back from the brutal penetration.

Sephiroth noted the growth of your areola, and how your nipples become larger.

The holes of your nipples are somewhat larger now too, inviting for a nice suckling or any type of penetration.

He forced two of his large fingers into a now fuckable nipple, smiling at how the hole quickly adjusted to his fingers.

You giggled, feeling rushes of delight and joy as he continued to tug at your remodeled pleasure centers.

You forgot who's supposed to be the next Sephiroth to have you. You hoped it wasn't the youngest one.

...Because C.C might be over-enjoyed at the darling's upgraded attributes. Thanks for the prompt!

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bltzgore · 8 months

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Tw: blood mention, powers, multiple whumpers, character death (not whumpee or caretaker), broken leg, young whumpee

I want a young hero whumpee. They're fighting a group of villian whumpers, getting tossed around like a toy, completely out numbered, out gunned, and bleeding...

Whumpee is tossed in front of a new villian, one that the others have been giving a healthy amount of space and respect. While they haven't been leading the group, but there is no doubt this is the one they're all scared of.

Whumpee trembles as they approach, just barely managing to pull themselves to their knees. Tears in their eyes from the pain and the fear. Their breath hitches as villian reaches down, getting a grip on their shirt and pulling them up to their eye line.

Villian is ready to finish this, that's what they were recruited to do after all. But as villian finally gets their first good look at Whumpee's face their eyes soften. Whumpee is young. Villian doubts they are even old enough to drink.

Whumpee whimpers, trying to get a grip on villian's wrist, rasping as blood runs down from their nose, "Just- G-get it over with."

God. They're a child. They're patched in blooming bruises, oozing blood from at least five places, and trying to break free and stand on their broken leg. How the hell did they get mixed up in this?

Whumpee can't take this. They're squirming under Villian gaze. They can't read it, but they stare back because it's the only part of villian they can see. Everything else is covered by mask, or cloth, or armor. Whumpee feels like they're eye to eye with death. They're terrified, they don't want to die! Will it hurt? How is Villian going to kill them?

Whumpee has a moment of self awareness, they must look so pathetic. They don't want to die a pathetic sniveling mess. Whumpee growls weakly and snarls, "Get it over with!" They scream, tears running down their face. "IF YOU'RE GONNA KILL ME, THEN KILL ME!" They seem to fall weak after that, spent, and shut their eyes tight.

Whumpee trembles in silence until...

"No."

They feel the ground against their legs. Is villian putting them down?

Whumpee opens their eyes the second they no longer feel Villan's grip on their clothes. They try to stand but their broken leg screams, and so do they. They stumble back against an alley wall, and managed to steady themselves. When they dare to look up villian has their back to them, facing the other members of their group.

One of them approaches villian, "What's up Villian. You gonna kill 'em or not?"

"No."

"Well if you're not gonna do it, I've always want to make that miserable runt scream until it can't-"

"I. Said. No."

Whumper 1 started to argue, but whumpee noticed that up and down villians arms ancient markings started to glow and twist through painfully bright neon oranges, yellows, pinks, and greens.

Whumper 1 didn't seem to notice, but the others sure did, beginning to back away, one or two even running.

Whumpee feels their skin prickle, and leans into the wall, guarding their head with the less mangled of their two arms.

"You won't lay a hand them ever again."

Even behind whumpee's eyelids, the light is impossibly bright.

Whumpee isn't sure how long they waited braced against the wall. Their protective stance is only broken by the arrival of a strangely gentle hand on their back.

"Easy now, you need to give that leg a rest."

Whumpee half collapses, half scrambles to the ground, trying to guard against any attacks. "Get the hell away from me!" They snap, taking a blind swipe as their eyes readjust, "T-touch me, and I'll break your goddamn arms!"

Villian withdraws, giving whumpee some space. "I'm sure you will. But before you do, please. Let me help you."

Whumpee shakes their head, showing their teeth in an attempt to hide a wince, "You were about t-t- to kill me."

Villian seems to curl inwards, looking away, "I was."

After a few moments of waiting for something else, and not getting it, whumpee asks, "Why didn't you?"

Villian takes their time on this one, trying to figure out how best to answer, ultimately sighing and shrugging, "Because I couldn't."

The silence returns, and again whumpee gets frustrated with it first.

"R-real talkative- aren't 'cha?"

Villian huffs a quite laugh that reflects in their eyes. "I suppose not. Now, will you let me patch you up?"

"Long as you don't incinerate me, yeah. I guess."

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #whump prompt #whump scenario #whump drabble #super hero whump #hero whump #hero whumpee #villian caretaker #multiple whumpers #whumper turned caretaker #defiant whumpee #tw broken bones

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brilyyy · 2 months

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Romance (Alastor x Angel Dust) 2/3

Here we go with part two, all I can say is, sorry Angel ❤️❤️ part three coming soon!

story warnings - horror, disturbing imagery

Angel's shoulders fell as he let out a huff of exasperation. Why the fuck didn’t he think something like this would happen? Of course that asshole was going to make something as easy as sex this exhausting and as annoying as possible. Angel huffed again, I mean, it’s not like he had anything better to do, Val would be pissed if he didn’t show but what was new? He was overbearing whether Angel was trying or not, and after that last shoot he could use some recovery time. Charlie would wonder I’m sure, but She and Vaggie had been spending more time together since she found out they were an Angel, and honestly it was kinda gross how cutesy they were being. “I better get my ass ate for this.” Angel muttered crossing his arms.

After a minute, another deep sigh and another roll of his eyes, Angel started walking through the forest, he figured he’d walk across the small clearing at least to get away from the tree. During the broadcast he had noticed small dolls hanging from the branches of the mangled tree and felt shivers run through him, though not the enjoyable ones from before. The twisted figures were made out of twigs and reeds tied together with rips of cloth and hung from the branches on different lengths of string. It unsettled him and replaced the once aching in his stomach with a sickness that made him look away. Walking further from the tree he expected to hear more wildlife, but still there was nothing but the periodic, faint call of birds in the distance and the sounds of leaves and branches crunching under his steps.

—

He walked for what seemed like hours over mossy fallen trees and through pits of thick mud filled with branches. The forest floor was rarely flat, so he huffed and cursed loudly as he climbed over slippery grass and mossed boulders, gnarled, twisted roots sending him stumbling often. The light drizzle didn't help, a constant mist blanketing the forest. He fell only once, but cursed very loudly about it and screamed colorful profanities into the forest for about 10 minutes afterward. Thoroughly exhausted and over his muddy hike, he cried out in joy when he found a creek running through the trees. "FUCKING finally," He smiled as he reached for the refreshing stream and settled on a nearby boulder to rest. He closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh as the dry aching in his throat was washed away by the chilled water. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking around to see if there was any sign he was getting closer, closer to killin' Alastor he thought.

The sky was still bright but it had changed from a faint pink hue to a slightly green light. It tricked Angel's eyes and made him think he was seeing things, trees moving or, people? No...something. Following behind him, standing just outside his periphery. Every time he turned around nothing was there, just silence and the thousands of trees that surrounded him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something there. A fog had begun to hang low over the moss and twisted tree roots, he blamed that and the oddly green sky for the tricks of his eyes.

Taking another drink of water Angel splashed some of the water on the back of his neck and closed his eyes taking another deep breath. This place was making him paranoid, the forest was so quiet it was unnerving. He could only hear far off birds sometimes, but he never saw any, and even their chirps were sounding stranger and stranger the further he went. He’d also noticed little… things. Trees with carvings in them, symbols he'd never seen before that looked similar to Alastor's, they were lines carved deep into the wood. Sometimes the wood oozed a deep crimson sap that smelled like rancid meat. If that wasn't fucked enough he started to find clothes. Walking through some bushes he had found a sweater snagged on a low tree branch, ripped and dirty, but wearable. At first he was relieved to no longer be cold and immediately covered himself in it.

Happy to no longer be shirtless, the more he walked the more he began to wonder about why it was even there to begin with. A bit further along he found a pair of shoes nestled against the base of a tree. Each sock had been folded neatly and tucked into each shoe, with a pair of tortoise shell glasses settled neatly on top. The shoes were shined to an almost mirror finish and the items looked in perfect condition, save for the single drop of blood on the toe of the left wingtip. Seeing this made his stomach churn and suddenly he felt his skin itch under the fabric of the sweater. He looked down at the sweater and decided to keep it (better than being cold, the forest was freezing and the fog was only getting worse) but he decided to ignore the missing portion of the sweater, cut out right above the heart.

He could bare all of that, he thought, fucked up as it was, but what disturbed him the most were the dolls. Throughout the forests canopy there were clusters of dolls littering the branches, differently colored and patterned scraps of cloth tied around bundles of sticks and straw or hay hanging from the ceiling of trees. He shivered under their eyeless gaze and hated seeing them twisting in the non existent breeze. He felt like he could hear them whispering, but he shook that off as more paranoia. More than anything right now he just wanted to go home.

Angel shook off the thought and reached into the stream for one last handful of water before moving on and brought his hands to his mouth, sipping slowly. His eyes snapped open in shock. Quickly and Violently he spat out the liquid and looked at his hands, that wasn’t water - something almost black and bitter, it coated his fingers and slowly slid down his arms. He looked down in horror at the creek and saw that instead of the streams of crystal cool water, It was deep crimson, thick, congealed pools of long since dead blood, black ooze slipping over rocks and all down his hands and face. “What the ffffuckkkk…” Panicked, Angel frantically wiped his face and hands on his new covering and the ground trying not to vomit when a piercing cry rang through the trees. He froze. The sound was far but loud, it sounded otherworldly and hollow, like something was wounded. Metallic but broken, it cut straight through whatever was left of Angel's bravery and chilled him to his core. The screech echoed through the trees so loudly that birds should have come flooding out, but Angel was truly alone, and for the first time he began to actually fear where he was.

As the cries died and echos faded, there was nothing left but ringing silence. Angel having been frozen in place, stood up and looked in the direction the sound came from. His heart was pounding in his throat and all he could feel was a sick dread building in his stomach. His fear immediately turned into fury at the demon causing his unease and his lips curled in a hateful snarl “SUCK MY DICK ALASTOR!!" Angel screamed defiantly from his chest into the trees. If it wasn't for so many brutal nights with Val he wouldn't have been able to keep the fear from his voice, but he was quickly losing his composure.

Nothing again but deafening silence. Angel stared again at the place in the trees where the scream had come from, breathing heavily and daring it to respond. After another long moment of silence, he decided he'd had enough rest and to get back towards, wherever it was he was going. Turning his back on the trees, he shifted to step over the once again crystal clear stream when another a piercing screech rang through the trees like a scream, louder and more violent than before.

The sound shook the trees and threw leaves and stray branches at Angel's face. He braced himself against the gusting winds, but the force of the haunted scream pushed him to the ground, sending him scurrying to hide his back against a tree. He hid behind a fallen trunk large enough to cover him fully, the screams getting louder and more distorted the longer they rang. He covered his head with one pair of arms and covered his ears with a second, burying his head in his knees, he wrapped a third set of arms around his body and begged for the noise to end.

The forest was shaking with the metallic cry, like large rusted horns scraping against each other, though there was something human in the cry that made Angel's blood freeze. The force of the scream whipped tree branches and leaves around, snapping younger trees in half and hurling them at the tree the young spider hid behind. Angel grit his teeth together as tears welled up in his eyes, his body shaking with the sound of the screaming, sucking up all of the oxygen, vibrating through out his entire body until he could barely breathe.

Then, the cry stopped just as suddenly as it had started, no echo, just silence, and for a minute there was nothing. Then, a deep, sickening thud. Angel could hear the sounds of old trees far in the distance cracking and being felled, branches snapping echoed in the air, and large objects crashed to the ground. Panting, he ripped his teary eyes open, and gingerly peeped around his hiding tree. Silence, and then the sound of cracking in the distance, followed by a ground shaking thump.

Frozen in place, Angel watched in horror as the trees far off in the distance began to shake, then another large tremor, followed by torturous silence. Tears streaming down his face, Angel stared forward at the trees, a set of hands covering his mouth as he panted in fear, unable to look away as whatever it was as it came closer, the cracking and breaking becoming louder and louder, the snapping branches sharper in his ear.

Shaking leaves and large, old trees cracked off in the distance, he could see them crashing down, but he couldn’t see what was doing it, his pink eyes darting and scouring the tree line to find it. The sickening footfalls shook the trees surrounding angel and he cowered behind the tree trunk as the ground settled. Shaking, he peeked over the fallen tree once again, straining to see whatever the fuck that thing was.

He gasped when he finally saw it. Just a glimpse, but it was enough to shake him to his core - a towering, distorted and unnerving creature, grotesque proportions and glowing red eyes staring straight at him. Angel felt hollow with a true sense of dread but was rooted in place, unable to look away or breathe. The creature was tall and so large, he couldn't see its whole body. Pitch black with arms and legs impossibly long and thin, red eyes glowing from behind what looked to be a large white buck skull, a bright crown of thorny antlers jutting from its head. Its neck stretched long and tilted brokenly through the trees, black blood dripping from its fanged mouth, the twisted crown of dagger-like antlers rest upon its head. It crouched on all four legs but as it began to slowly move forward, Angel could see it shifting between walking upright and on all fours as it approached causing all of his hair to stand on end. The way it looked, the way it moved…. It was wrong.

The beast now on all fours, slowly due to its size, boomed closer through the trees until it stoped a fair distance from where the spider hid. The black mass paused, unaffected by the falling trees and snapping of roots as it moved through the forest. For a long time, the inky creature stared back at the spider hiding behind the tree. Angel took a shaky breath, straining to see the creature through the trees, but he dared not move under the twisted creatures red stare. The monster in the trees stared back, then abruptly stood up on its two back legs. It watched for another moment then twisted its head 180 degrees. Angel held his breath. The creature stared back, the air was still.

The horned creature twisted and snaked its unnaturally long neck around trees and closer towards Angel then stopped sharply, cocking its head a half turn so that it was now sideways. The creature stared again, its red eyes glowering, burning into Angel’s. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop shaking, but couldn’t look away. In horror, Angel watched as it slowly opened its jaws, blood and chucks of rotted flesh falling from its tilted mouth. Angels ears rang in the silence as the creature remained unnaturally still. It was still for a long time.

Then, when Angel felt like he couldn’t take it anymore, the creatures gaping skull let out an ungodly metallic scream, the dying call of a wounded deer distorted and twisted slammed through the trees. Disembodied voices screamed along with the sound of steel claws on chalkboard pierced Angel’s ears. The vibration of the screeching in the air was suffocating and immediately pushed out all of the air, forcing him to his feet as his pink eyes widened in fear and his body took over. Angel turned from the eldritch terror and ran as fast as he could.

He scrambled over the twisting roots and leaves, past trees and over boulders while the screaming rang louder behind him, shaking the air in his lungs. Heart pounding in his ears, Angel raced through the trees, eyes wide in terror, forcing his tired body to move. The creature let out another long haunted screech, ripping chills through the air, the screaming of a woman loud in his ear, pushing Angel to run harder, even though his body was on fire with strain.

His foot slipped and sent him headfirst into a tree, bashing his face into the ragged bark, but he pushed himself away instantly and ran further into the forest, away from the grotesque demonic creature screaming behind him, he could taste blood in his mouth. The hollow metallic bellow rang throughout the forest and straight through him, and worse of all, now he could hear it running after him.

The thundering stampede shook the ground, causing Angel to pant and push faster, the crashing and snapping of trees, the scraping of rusted steel rubbing against itself screaming became the air. Angel strained and gasped, his legs were burning and he felt like his lungs were on fire, but he dared not stop. He scrambled past fallen trees and pushed branches out of the way, smaller ones whipping his cheeks, the gusts of wind from the creatures screams sending leaves scattered through the air.

Pushed by his primal need to survive, Angel ran harder. He darted past a tree and stepped out, but his foot found nothing and sent him stumbling down a hill over broken trees and shrubs. Heel over head, he fell down the steep bank covered in boulders and roots as the tortured screams echoed above him. Angel bounced and tumbled, crying out as he bashed into trees along the way until he slid on leaves finally reaching flat land. He laid there, panting, bloody and broken. His entire body ached and his head was fuzzy, a loud ringing in his ears. His eyes drifted between open and closed, weakly, he took short ragged breaths, the taste of blood and dirt in his mouth.

His body begged for rest, and he gave in for a moment, but the screams vibrating in the air returned, finally louder than the ringing in his ears and Angel scrambled, weakly slipping over leaves towards a large knot in base of a nearby weeping willow. He crawled brokenly towards the tree, weakly he grabbed at the cage like roots and buried himself deep inside of the trunk, pushing himself as far in as he could to the alcove, pulling his body in just as tight.

Angel screwed his eyes shut and let out a terrified whimper, covering his ears and head with a set of arms and holding his body tight with the other as the tree vibrated around him. The next round of screams came from right above the willow, shaking every fiber between them with its foul violin shrieks, sending a jolt directly into Angel. Mind blank, eyes wide is absolute terror, shakily, he pushed himself deeper into the tree, begging for it to stop through broken silent sobs and clawing weakly into the solid roots and dirt. Tears streak down his face as he whimpered beneath the screaming overhead, when suddenly he felt something. Angel grabbed for what felt like cloth, thick yarn similar to the sweater he was wearing. He freezes. Cracking his eyes, he cautiously peered in the direction of his touch, eyes shaking with tears, fear, mania.

He followed his arm down to his hand, then to his fingertips where he saw what looked like an arm. His fingers rested near the elbow, arm bent away from him and resting above where the head would be. Angel shook with the yelling of the horror, choking on the damp air, he noticed the sweater. It was black with similar details to his, whereas the sweater he wore was white with black details. Somehow, his stomach fell further and he felt bile come up his throat. He turned his head fully and stared in horror at the one armed headless torso, tears burning his cheeks, his mouth open in a silent racking sob. He pulled his hand back gingerly, ears ringing, body pounding, with the creatures hollow, bellowing screeches over head.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the body, dried blood painting the white accents in their sweater, sending him further into his corner and spiral - but then, he noticed something in her hand. Angel couldn’t control his body at this point, his arm reached out for some unknown reason and pulled the arm back enough to see a silver charm bracelet half buried in the dirt. Tarnished and small, angel saw three silver pieces hanging from it - A carousel horse, a four leaf clover, and a heart with a word inscribed - sisters.

Angel snapped his hand back and screamed. He screamed and screamed and though his cries were drowned out by the thunderous bellowing above him, they ripped his already paper thin throat apart. He scrambled out of the hidden cove, crawling away from the corpse, sobbing and screaming. The willow’s cover shield’s Angel from the demon, but he could see its sickly long legs and claws surrounding the tree. Its limbs long and black, dripping with dead blood, rancid and decayed flesh sloughing off against rooted trees, insects crawling from its long fingers.

Angel’s eyes traveled up the creatures legs and found the cover of the willow, curtains of petal shaped leaves shielding him from the existential horror raging above him. As Angel looked into the canopy protecting him from seeing the creature, his eyes found a terrible thing.

An arm, with a silver charm bracelet, strung from a branch.

His eyes found another arm, and then a leg, then another leg, all strung from varying lengths of rope, scattered amongst the willows protective shield of branches and leaves. From underneath the tree like this, he stared up into a sky filled with rotted limbs and dolls made from reeds and twigs, tied together with differing colored scraps of cloth, plaid, patterned, bloodied.

The demon let out another deep haunted cry, screeching metal ripping across the rancid violin, stabbing through his sanity, and something snapped in Angel. He clutched his head and screamed, screamed until he ran out of breath and then ripping cold air into his lungs he screamed again. He turned in on himself, writhing on a bed of leaves and clutching at his head, he screamed, lungs wrung of any breath.

The air shook with Angel and the creature’s screams until the spinning of his head became too much. Angel closed his eyes and he slipped away, finally surrendering to his body’s pain, resigned to the onslaught of terror.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin fanfic #hazbin angel dust #alastor x angel dust #alastor #angel dust

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glossyybabie · 4 months

Text

identity

part 19 || part 20

Summary: You can feel yourself crumbling away.

Warnings: Kidnapping. Blood and gore. A Missy-esque bit of body horror.

Word count: 1376

Notes: Applying to internships has taken up all of my time so I haven’t been able to update in aeons. I’m not even sorry.

Waking up dazed and confused was becoming a very natural feeling for you. This ceiling was a strangely common sight. The pale grey tiles felt as though they were staring back at you with a shared kind of familiarity.

You pushed yourself upright. Your body immediately put up plenty of resistance, but not as much as you’d been expecting. A morbid part of you knew that you were just adjusting. This sort of discomfort would be the new normal.

Your gaze drew towards a tray of bloodied tools, resting harmlessly against the arm of a pristine white chair. The blue latex gloves on the other armrest had been twisted inside out to avoid splattering the chair in red.

Your palms smoothed down your hospital gown against your skin. You felt no bruises, no unevenness in the form of bumps or scarring. Your skin was clear, if dull, almost monochrome. You wondered just how many basic vitamins and minerals you were dangerously low on.

You started forward on wobbly legs. Pain radiated in a multitude of areas — some areas you didn't even know were capable of being in pain. But it was easy enough to ignore. That pain wasn't too sharp or troublesome. It didn't have you doubling over. If you could walk, you were fine.

You toyed with a blood-caked scalpel in your hand. In hindsight, you weren't even sure what had compelled you to pick it up. It wasn't as if any weapon existed that was a match for Missy. And even if there was, it wouldn't be a scalpel. The fires of hell probably weren't strong enough for that bitch–

"Who? Me?"

Missy stood behind you. Just a few feet away, she was just as refined and imposing as you'd always remembered her being. Her plum skirts swished around her legs as she took a step closer. You followed the line of her vision towards the scalpel in your hand.

"Now, where exactly were you going with that?" Missy asked calmly.

When interacting with Missy, there was no such thing as a lie. Lies were for just about anyone else.

"For a walk."

Missy grinned, a sweet yet cold expression that exposed her teeth. "Sure you are, poppet. Come on, back to mummy."

She was beckoning you back, her hands open and waiting for you to take. You stared at her palms. She didn't make a move towards you. She was letting you make the next move.

You shifted the scalpel around in your hand. "Why should I?" you challenged her. "Why should I do anything you say if it doesn't matter anyway?"

Missy exhaled sharply. "Sweetheart, I can't do this with you every time you have a crisis of self. Just come over here, give me your new toy, and no one has to get hurt. Alright?"

You watched her go still. Even now, your move in this game wasn't over yet. She was giving you a rare chance to reconsider. This was her showing mercy. She wasn't hurting you . . .

Yet. But she hadn't hurt you for a year of your life, and yet she'd never created wounds that ran so deep. She didn't need to cause harm in order to hurt. She was above that.

You shook your head. "No."

Pain shot through your arm like nothing you could have imagined. Your fingers were frozen around the steel door handle. You couldn’t consciously move them. You couldn’t move anything.

All too soon, sensation returned. You jerked away and stumbled onto the floor. The scalpel in your hand scraped across your face, eventually skidding across the shiny floor to a halt and leaving a notable trail of blood in its wake.

Your face erupted in blistering pain. You let out a pained cry and clasped your hands over your nose and mouth as blood poured over your trembling lips.

Missy stooped down and pinched the chunk of mangled flesh from the floor. “I suppose I can officially say got your nose.”

You wanted to scream for so many reasons. Tears burned in your eyes. Your throat was tight, but that feeling was nothing compared to the hot, thick viscera that coated your mouth and chin. You struggled to breathe past the fluids on your face.

You started to roll onto your front, but Missy slipped the tip of her boot beneath you before you could manage. She started to forcefully turn you over, ignoring your sobbing, garbled protests.

“Come on,” Missy said lightly, kneeling carelessly in the pool of blood beside you. “Let’s see what you’ve done. Don’t be shy now.”

This was all her fault — all of this was her fault. You were so defeated. The blood started to dribble down your cheeks and through your nose where it reached your throat. Your attempted coughs resembled inhuman grunts.

Missy pulled your damp hands away from your face. She laughed.

“Oh dear. See, this is why we don’t walk around with sharp tools. It’s only a matter of time before I get bored and shock you into slicing your organs off,” Missy sighed. She toyed with the exposed raw meat of your open wound, uncaring of the way you writhed in pain and clawed at her arms, gurgling incoherent words. “I think we can do better though. Shall we go again? I’ll aim for something more substantial this time, like an eye. Ooh, maybe an ear. Your tongue, if I time it right.”

You couldn’t stop crying. You were humiliated. You’d sustained injuries to last several lifetimes, you’d been torn apart and hastily glued back together in every way possible, but this felt more real than anything Missy had hurled at you before.

This was your face. It was the only familiar sight in your reflection. It reminded you of who you truly were. And now it was as disfigured, haggard, unattractive as the rest of you. Crumbling and wasting away like a plastic-corroded doll in a charity shop.

This was the largest piece of your identity to flake away so far. And it hurt.

Missy started to pull you up. You were just relieved that she was no longer poking her sharp red fingernails into the gaping hole in your face. “Come on, that’s enough sulking,” she said impatiently. “You humans are so hopelessly hideous with or without basic facial features, so I wouldn’t worry your ugly little head about it. That’s the spirit.”

She forced you to walk towards the bed you’d woken up in, disregarding the crippling pain you were in. Your knees buckled hopelessly beneath you. Missy half-dragged you alongside her.

“And hey,” she continued, “maybe someday I’ll get bored and reattach your nose. Or a nose, anyway. That’ll give you something to look forward to.”

You choked on a gasp. Blood spurted out of your mouth, all tangy on the tip of your tongue. You tried to make the most of the sensation — it was a matter of time before Missy started focusing on new areas of your face to maim.

Your knees slammed firmly onto the unforgiving floor. The blood-loss was starting to make you feel lightheaded. The thumping against the front of your skull wouldn’t cease, no matter how much you willed it.

You tried to speak, with little success. Your words tumbled out gurgled and splattered with blood. Hardly coherent.

Missy leaned in closer, tilting her ear towards you. “What was that, dear?”

You felt sick. The way she made you feel was dehumanising. On your knees in front of her. Pleading. Begging. Worthlessly so.

You cleared the immediate blood from your mouth and sobbed. “. . . Help me, Missy.”

Missy sighed, lowering her head in resignation. “Oh, alright,” she conceded. “Since you asked so nicely.”

She lifted your limp body off the floor. You put up no resistance as she carried you the remaining distance, her arms firmly supporting your weight this time. She gently set you down and lowered your head onto a soft pillow.

She moved the tray of tools towards herself. You watched her settle down comfortably, one leg neatly crossed over the other, as she reached for a familiar silver rod. Dread settled in the pit of your stomach.

“Let me just give my cautery rod a chance to heat up first.”

#first update of 2024 is off to a strong start #doctor who #doctor who x reader #missy x reader #doctor who master #reader insert #missy #doctor who missy #bbc doctor who #the master x reader #obey your mistress

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hermidetta · 7 days

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[ 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] : sender is voicing their negative opinion about a person who appears to be close with the receiver. / bernadetta von varely, as your professor, i feel it's necessary to inform you that I believe Mr. Bearkley is holding you back from your true potential. you're not shooting for the stars. you're not giving it your all, and Mr. Bearkley is enabling this behavior. Think of your untapped potential. Let's put aside our beef and focus on getting you in tip top shape.

* for you i would.

i dont have a fakedeep poetry line caption for this. ive been trying and trying to think and just cannot even make one up. odin dark of norway you have insulted mr bearkley and you simply must perish never mind i got it. uhhh something something you think you're the shit but you aren't even the fart. or how did that one go again? ah fuck never mind. here we go

professor dark is a funny little man. he wears funny flip-flops attached to his pants, he bellows from the thesaurus glued to his lungs, and he strikes poses in public that her mangled corpse could not be caught doing if all the saints and their mothers possessed her right now.

bernadetta has heard the lecture before. she has heard it from seniors and students alike, and the first half of it nearly puts her to sleep. her lips twist down in an affronted curl.

potential this, potential that. some of them mean well—she feels all the more rotten whenever they're kind—but all of them learn. they all eventually learn she's impossible to deal with. stupid, ugly, whiny, worthless. why bother?

they all give up. she is fine with that. she gave up on herself, too, ages ago. bernadetta is fine with slinking back into the shadows, letting herself be forgotten in sweet peace...

...yet when odin dark dares accuse the only friend and confidant she's had for years, her eyes snap open. bernadetta recoils, her arms tightening around the armored bear stuffy as her body half twists to obscure it from the madman.

"what are you talking about?!" the fight in her flares up, a petite spitfire in the fray. feathers ruffled, she quips with a tiny stomp of her foot. "mr. bearkley doesn't have anything to do with this! bernie's stupid and worthless all on her own! you don't know him, or me! so... so there! y-you can eat your fell flip-flops, mister!"

she doesn't mean that, not really. clumsy and rash on occasion as she may be, bernadetta knows—she knows, she knows so much more than she is equipped to convey. she knows she isn't being fair. she knows mr. dark only means well. she regrets every mean thing the second it flies out of her mouth, and it shows in the way her eyes fearfully flinch. but that is mostly all she really knows—she holds her sword by its knife end and wildly, frantically swings.

she freezes like she's been hit, a half-stammer of syllables caught like rocks in her mouth—sorry, i—but no, it's too late. it's always too late. she made her bed and she instantly dives into it. she staggers, she spins in the opposite direction. the rapid patter of bernadetta's boots is the last thing odin hears of her.

#fellpurpose #asks /#saradin von tag tbt #i know you said this was a shitpost but idk wtf is possessing me over here on bernadetta cuz why am i writing so much #WHYS HER MUSE GOT A DEATH GRIP ON ME #i promise she doesnt mean it mr dark she just angy. another thing btw i always picture her expressions as animal crossing villager #so when she bawls or does a huffy little stomp ITS JUST SO FUCKING ANIMAL CROSSING VILLAGER LOOKING AND NON THREATENING #LUV U SARA LUV OUR SILLIES DW SHE WUV HIM TOO I PROMISE

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blimbo-buddy · 3 months

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ooh what was the actual relationship between slash and star flower like in your rewrite? i'm curious

So I still have some drafting to do with them both, but:

First off; One-Eye and Slash are kittenhood friends. One-Eye was just a little bit older than Slash and the two were like brother and sister

So when One-Eye came around with his little daughter StarFlower (who most likely had a different name at the time), Slash instantly became attached to her

They're like godmother/aunt and niece

Also, since Bumble and StarFlower are sisters (Bumble is the little sister), Slash was eventually introduced to Bumble later down the line and became attached as well. But he never saw Bumble much on account of her being a Kittypet

Slash heard from time to time about some new forest/moor cats, and that Bumble slowly became closer to one of them specifically

Then, news came of Bumble going missing, and Slash set her glare towards Tom, suspecting him of being apart of this

Bumble's starved corpse was found, bloodied and beaten

Slash learned of this when One-Eye and StarFlower came to Slash and his group, One-Eye asking his old friend for support through his "army" and Slash agrees

During the preparation, Slash is there to comfort StarFlower a bit. But his way of encouraging isn't really the best and he unintentionally tries to have StarFlower take instant action

StarFlower is a mentally strong cat, but she just lost her sister and she needs some time. Slash doesn't understand this

Slash cared about StarFlower, he really did

The reason the story version claims that Slash was promised by One-Eye that StarFlower would become his mate was because… -drumroll-:

ClearSky had told everybody this!

I have a brainstorming idea that the reason ClearSky thought this was because of some mishearing

I don't know how I'd approach this part but I have an idea:

Slash calls everybody "Mate", friends, family, anyone

However, because ClearSky doesn't know about what "Mate" actually means in slang terms, he came to the bonkers conclusion that Slash was promised by One-Eye that StarFlower and him would become "mates"

This ties into an idea I want to approach in DotC where many cats don't understand the culture of the cats before them

That they believe that anything they don't know must have a negative connotation, leading to the twisting of history and the demonization of those who were there before them

So in this case: ClearSky doesn't understand the cultural slang that Slash is using, and equates it to something that he himself thinks it might be linked to, which is usually something negative

But I digress: Basically, Slash and StarFlower used to have a close relationship with each other. But due to the death of Bumble and the eventual death of One-Eye at the hands of The Settlers, it caused a strain between the two. I want the outcome of their arc together being the damage that The Settlers caused to many families and friends, tearing them apart through their conflict.

In this rewrite, they are NOT MATES nor did One-Eye promise to make StarFlower Slash's mate. That is kept in, but it is kept into the story that the Clans would later go on to tell, a completely mangled and twisted version of the truth Of course, I still need some rough drafting to do with them and right now I'm really occupied with 100 other things, but hopefully I can find time in between to work on them more. Maybe even some suggestions (Which I'm open to completely)

#blimbo rambles #ask #wc #wc rewrite #I kind of dodged the question a bit whoops #Need some time and energy to go more in depth with their relationship towards each other #my dotc rewrite is really turning into ''THESE CATS ARE COLONIZERS. DO NOT SYMPATHIZE WITH THEM COME ON''#about the clan cats

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jackoshadows · 1 year

Text

I can’t get enough of Arya’s style of justice. It’s a Karma feast and the way GRRM writes it is one of the reasons for why Arya is one of the best characters in the books.

It starts with Joffrey:

"And you're only a butcher's boy, and no knight." Joffrey lifted Lion's Tooth and laid its point on Mycah's cheek below the eye, as the butcher’s boy stood trembling. A bright bud of blood blossomed where his sword pressed into Mycah¡s flesh, and a slow red line trickled down the boy's cheek.

"I won't hurt him... much," Prince Joffrey told Arya, never taking his eyes off the butcher's boy. Arya went for him.

(…)

The direwolf let go of Joffrey and moved to Arya's side. The prince lay in the grass, whimpering, cradling his mangled arm. His shirt was soaked in blood. Arya said, "She didn't hurt you... much." She picked up Lion's Tooth where it had fallen, and stood over him, holding the sword with both hands. - Sansa, AGoT

Then the Tickler:

The questions were always the same. Was there gold hidden in the village? Silver, gems? Was there more food? Where was Lord Beric Dondarrion? Which of the village folk had aided him? When he rode off, where did he go? How many men were with them? How many knights, how many bowmen, how many men-at-arms? How were they armed? How many were horsed? How many were wounded? What other enemy had they seen? How many? When? What banners did they fly? Where did they go? Was there gold hidden in the village? Silver, gems? Where was Lord Beric Dondarrion? How many men were with him? By the third day, Arya could have asked the questions herself. - Arya, ACoK

He moved swiftly, light on his feet, never taking his eyes off Sandor Clegane. It was the easiest thing in the world for Arya to step up behind him and stab him.

"Is there silver? Gems?" She stabbed twice more. "Is there food? Where is Lord Beric?" She was on top of him by then, still stabbing. "Where did he go? How many men were with him? How many knights? How many bowmen? How many, how many, how many, how many, how many, how many? is there gold in the village?" - Arya, ASoS

And then Raff the Sweetling:

One of the spearmen drifted over to Lommy. "Something wrong with your leg, boy?". "It got hurt."

"Can you walk?" He sounded concerned. "No," said Lommy. "You got to carry me."

"Think so?" The man lifted his spear casually and drove the point through the boy's soft throat. Lommy never even had time to yield again. He jerked once, and that was all. - Arya, ACoK

"Walk?" His fingers were slick with blood. "Are you blind, girl? I'm bleeding like a stuck pig. I can't walk on this."

“You’ll need to carry me.” See? thought Mercy. You know your line, and so do I.

"Think so?" asked Arya, sweetly.

Raff the Sweetling looked up sharply as the long thin blade came sliding from her sleeve. She slipped it through his throat beneath the chin, twisted, and ripped it back out sideways with a single smooth slash. A fine red rain followed, and in his eyes the light went out - Mercy, TWoW

Something to also note is that Arya is exacting justice for the powerless, who have no one in their corner, like Mycah, Lommy, the village folk who got tortured and murdered. It’s not about what people have done to her personally, it’s about the pain and suffering they inflicted on others.

“A good lord comforts and protects the weak and helpless,” he told the Freys. “I will not have you making Hodor the butt of cruel jests, do you hear me? He’s a good-hearted lad, dutiful and obedient, which is more than I can say for either of you.” - Bran, ACoK

#Arya Stark

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whumble-beeee · 7 months

Text

Whumptember 2023, Day 20

“We can’t all win”

Failure | City in ruin | Boot on throat

The Bee's Whumptember Masterlist

~1120 words

CW: suffocation, past murder mention, future murder threats, very vivid and frank talk of murder, acid

(cont’d from Day 9: This Was Always Going To Happen and Day 5: What Do You Want Me To Do. You don’t really need to read them to understand this story, but it would help a bit for full comprehension)

------------

“Villain–” Spy sputtered, scrambling backward with a heavy limp, wincing every time they tweaked their ankle in just the wrong way. “--Villain, wait, wait, I don’t–... You don’t have to–”

“Don’t I?” Villain cut them off with an amused tilt of the head. “Because it seems to me, Medic, that ever since you joined the team, small yet… unexplainable things keep happening… Voices that aren’t your own coming from you room, victims suddenly ‘can’t take any more’ just as they’re about to crack…”

Spy’s bad ankle snagged onto a ripple in the carpet that wasn’t there before and they crumbled back, their butt and wrists shooting warning bolts of distress through their bones as they hit the ground hard.

“I’m just here to make sure you don’t kill anyone you don’t mean to, Villain.” Spy reasoned weakly as Villain closed the distance between them. “You always go too far.”

Villain kicked halfheartedly at the mangled ankle they just broke, and Spy hissed, barely holding back a full screech.

“Now that’s all just circumstantial, I’m sure, Medic. I like you, really, I do. You’re all business, but you still know how to have fun, like me.” Their hand glided gracefully into their jacket pocket. “I really wanted it not to be true, but…”

Villain flicked their hand up and produced a small black and white composition journal between their middle and pointer finger, smiling lightly as the blood in ‘Medic’s’ face drained at the sight. They frisbeed the journal with a flick of their wrist, and Spy flinched as it smacked them in the face before falling face up and open beside them, their sins out on full display.

“The evidence doesn’t lie, does it? Spy…”

Spy grasped the acid bottles strapped to their belt and hurled them at Villain with a loud cry, watching as they sailed straight through Villain’s body with a sparkle and splattered onto the wall behind them. The drywall hissed in protest. Villain was on them in an instant, one foot weighing heavily on their throwing wrist, splaying it out wide away from their body while Villain’s other foot slammed them back and rested on their throat, pressing down just enough on their windpipe to barely allow airflow. Spy’s eyes bulged as they gasped against the obstruction, an involuntary whimper escaping their throat as the pressure didn’t let up.

“I hate double agents, Spy.” Villain growled. “And even more, I hate traitors.”

Spy yanked fruitlessly at the foot planted firmly on their throat, before leaning their head back, defeated. “Just kill me already.” They rasped, squeezing their tear lined eyes shut. They should have known this would happen.

“You should be so lucky…” Villain laughed as they brought their foot up slightly, enjoying the feeling of the fragile life force they held under their sole spasming and begging for life. For mercy.

Villain knew no such word.

“No, no, no death for you… traitors can still be immensely useful, especially when their friends still love and more importantly, trust them.”

Spy’s face twisted into a burning rage as they tried to beg, reason, curse Villain out, do something, but the full weight of Villains body fell squarely on their throat just as they were about to do so, and their rage morphed into full blown panic as they convulsed around the unyielding force denying them the mercy of oxygen. Panicked agony ripped through their chest as they clawed at Villains leg and silently begged into their cold, calculating eyes, the same ones that sparked with radical enjoyment as Spy finally started to go limp under their heel a moment later, watching with glee the slowly but surely losing battle that Spy fought with the ever encroaching blackness at the edges of their vision. Their spasming chest and stomach grew steadily weaker until they stilled entirely, sitting unmoving under the villain.

Just as Spy went limp, Villain raised their foot fully out of Spy’s windpipe, so their boot was just resting on their trembling neck again. Spy coughed violently under them, attempting to curl up into themself as the weight still on their neck actively prevented it. They just clutched at the carpet and coughed violently into the air, tears now freely flowing from their eyes.

“I’m going to make you give them false information, Spy.” Villain continued nonchalantly as Spy hyperventilated under them. “Then I’m going to make you sit there and watch as I torture and murder every. Last. One of them.”

Villain crouched down grabbed villains jaw, yanking their teary face up to look them in the icy blue eyes.

“I’ll start with Youngest. The one who got you caught. The one you tried so hard to protect from me. I’ll make you look them in the eyes and apologize to them for not being good enough as they die, and I’ll make sure they know you won’t be saving them this time. Then Leader, just so you know that all this? It was all for nothing. They all died for nothing, because of you. Then finally, Caretaker… Your love, the one who first made me suspicious of you. I’ll make sure to thank them as they scream for mercy, and I’ll make sure they feel the weight of their careless mistake with every cut of the blade. They’ll slowly bleed out, and you’ll sit there and hold them in your arms, knowing you can do absolutely nothing. Maybe I’ll even throw in Sidekick, too, the spineless dog. Just another traitor. I only wish I hadn’t killed Rogue so soon so I could make you watch the life drain from their eyes, too.”

Spy glared up at Villain through their despair with all the hatred they could muster, struggling against their weight as best they could, uncaring of the foot that held their throat to the ground like a vice. They screamed out, in defeated rage. What else could they do?

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Spy.” Villain tutted, like a mother scolding her troubled child. “We can’t all win. Excuse me for wanting your failure to hurt.”

The Villain stomped down before the weight suddenly lifted off of Spy’s bruised neck, and Villain sauntered away toward the door. The sudden supply of air had Spy splayed out and coughing into the ground once more, pressing their forehead into the soft carpet in the vain hope that they could just push through the the fluff and scratch and disappear forever. Like Villain could, if they wanted to. Spy should be so lucky.

“Come along, Medic.” Villain called out to the mess behind them. “Stop writhing on the ground like a worm and at least pretend you’re not a complete failure.

“We’ve got work to do.”

@whumptember

#whumptember2023 #whumptember day 20 #day twenty: we cant all win #day twenty: failure #day twenty: boot on throat #failure #boot on throat #we cant all win #whump #whump writing #whumpee #writeblr #whump scenario #whumper #heroes and villains #hehehehe #this one is awesome #im really starting to get invested in this story too lol

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witchie-writings · 1 year

Note

I love your blog sm❤️ I love your Halo hcs they are the best and You’re like one of the only blogs that has written for the bayverse Megatron and for that, I think you amazing🥹 Whenever you feel like it, do you think you could write more bayverse megatron x reader? Absolutely no pressure and take all the time you need❤️

YOU

Take my heart. Bayverse Megatron is one of my favorite versions, so it’s nice to see someone request more HCs for him! (Well, I guess I’m writing again lmfao) I will admit, my views on him have kind of changed, so these might be different from the first set of headcanons I wrote.

Trigger warning for abuse.

During the war, Megatron could only see the blinding promise of power. He craved it like it was the energon that flowed through his inner pipe-lines, but… admittedly, despite his never-ending rampage for his next fix for absolute control, he does have an inner weakness that he’d rather die than reveal to those that serve him: his S/O.

His S/O would struggle with this version of Megatron. He was undoubtedly ruthless, far more than any other version of Megatron, and this extends partially to them. He can be abusive, both physically and verbally, and depending on how his emotions festered within him that day dictates how bad it can get. It’s agonizing, oh painfully so. I would never blame S/O if they one day decide to abandon the cause, for any sliver of the Megatron they once knew was seemingly gone.

Oh but that wasn’t the case. Despite all the things he does, his spark mourns for the times before the war, before the Fallen had entered his processor and twisted his mind into shattered pieces. There will be times that his spark breaks through, temporarily silencing the raging thoughts that echoed inside his helm, and this is where he shows weakness. He knows all of the things he’s done and how he’s hurt his S/O, and so, his care is so tender, so genuine. His digits would grace over his S/O’s platings with the utmost care, even as they trembled violently - the emotions boiled within Megatron, oh Primus, what has he done to them?

During these soft moments, he orders the other Cons that he and his S/O are not to be disturbed, any sign of disobedience will be immediately punished with a torturous death.

His S/O would be pampered beyond belief while his spark shines through. He shows his love through acts of service, whatever they need him to do, Megatron would do it without any question or hesitation. The only thing he has slight reluctance to is cuddling. His body was mangled and mutilated into a twisted version of his previous self, sharpened blades and riddled with cracks of silver. It’ll take coaxing, but he’ll cave, and he’d melt if his S/O would give him words of affirmation - he needs it, he desperately does.

Whenever he falls back into his tyrannical mindset, it’s painfully hard to suddenly switch back to how it was before his spark broke control. He acts the same as how he was before, but it’s as though part of him has softened. Megatron’s processor despises this feeling and will take it to his late grave, but he feels strangely at peace, a sense of tranquility he never knew could feel so alluring amongst the calamity of war. It makes him feel weak, and he loathes it, wishing to rip apart his frame just to claw out this specific feeling. But he can’t, and now whenever he tries to be the ruthless tyrant towards his S/O, his inner workings shatter. He can’t reveal this weakness, no, he can’t, if he could barely handle himself causing pain to them, then how would he even handle the other Decepticons tormenting, torturing, or even killing his S/O?

No, he won’t let it happen. He would try his hardest to show how much he ‘hates’ his S/O, and that they were a fool to ever believe that things could go back the way it came. But he can feel the anguish brewing. How he so desperately wished things could go back to the way they were.

#transformers #x reader #reader insert #transformers 2007 #bayverse #maccadam #transformers megatron #megatron #megatron x reader #bayverse megatron #bayverse megatron x reader

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erisenyo · 8 months

Note

“shit, are you bleeding?” i’m dying to read zuko crashing his razer scooter now haha

For this prompt game! (And also this one!)

Sokka pauses when the phone rings, eyeing his bowl of noodles and his chopsticks and his water bottle and his propped-up textbook and finally shoving his phone between his shoulder and his cheek so he can add that into the mix, too. “What’s up, hot cakes?”

“Can you—wait, hot cakes? That was awful.”

“Hot pants,” Sokka suggests, grinning at the familiar annoyed rasp of Zuko’s voice.

“Absolutely not.”

“Hot cheeks.”

“Somehow even worse.”

“How bout ‘my love,’” Sokka says, saccharine sweet and smirking when Zuko coughs in surprise. “Was that one fine?” he asks, faux innocent as Zuko wheezes. “No commentary all of a sudden?”

“No, uh—that one’s fine,” Zuko says, clearing his throat, and Sokka can picture the wash of flustered, pleased pink that is definitely staining Zuko unscarred cheek to go along with that tone.

“So what can I do for you, my love?” Sokka asks around a mouthful of noodles. “And before you get into it—I know you need something because you know I’m researching this afternoon, and you wouldn’t have called during that if you didn’t need something, so lets just skip the runaround.”

“…Can you come get us?”

Sokka pauses mid-bite. “…Did you crash?”

Zuko sighs, aggrieved and heavy. “Just please come get me.”

Sokka blinks as Zuko suddenly hands up, surprised and a little bit worried as he gathers up his keys, and then a bit more worried when he reaches the park and immediately spots Zuko sitting on the curb, unmistakable disheveled, shirt torn and hair full of leaves, face smudged with dirt as he stares morosely at what was once a scooter.

“You did crash,” Sokka accuses him as he quickly gets out of the car, eyes flicking over Zuko as he checks for any arms at the wrong angles or ankles twisting in weird directions.

“No,” Zuko huffs, clearly put out and clearly letting Sokka skim his hands over him looking for injuries anyway.

“Oh, really?” Sokka rolls his eyes, gently feeling along the back of Zuko’s head and picking out leaves as he goes. “So your razer scooter spontaneously mangled itself?”

“It might as well have,” Zuko grumbles, obediently letting Sokka look into his eyes.

Sokka ignores the way Zuko glowers back.

“I told you,” Sokka says, grabbing one of Zuko’s wrists and checking for road rash or gravel or bruises or anything. “I told you—something like this was going to happen if you keep going too fast.”

“It’s not too fast, there’s no such thing as too fast.”

“That’s a kid’s toy, it can’t handle all the ridiculous things you do to it.”

“It’s fine,” Zuko scoffs, handing over his other wrist. “It’s been fine.”

“And how fine is it now?” Sokka challenges, giving the bent metal a pointed look. “And you’re not even wearing your elbow pads, are you, and shit, are you bleeding? You’re bleeding.” He yanks Zuko’s wrist around to get a better look at the scraped, raw stretch of skin. “And right on your elbow, which is where one might wear elbow pads, just saying.”

Zuko mutters something too low for Sokka to catch. His expression is plenty articulate, though.

“Oh, what, did they not make you look cool?” Sokka rolls his eyes, nudging at Zuko’s leg so he can check his jeans for any new rips. “I got you a set with flames on it, didn’t I.”

“Those were for children!”

“Well someone was being childish about it,” Sokka bites back, tart.

“I’m fine,” Zuko protests as he stretches out his other leg for Sokka to look over. “I don’t need them, I don’t fall.”

Sokka raises his eyebrows, pointed.

“I don’t fall unaided,” Zuko corrects.

“What,” Sokka snorts, “Like by gravity? Tell me you were at least wearing a helmet.”

Zuko purses his lips, suddenly looking very invested in contemplating the sky over Sokka’s head.

“Zuko!”

“I didn’t have it on me!”

“You scooted away with it!” Sokka says, incredulous. “What, did you take it off the minute you were out of sight?”

Zuko suddenly finds the tree line very fascinating, too.

“Ridiculous,” Sokka finally huffs, shaking his head and pushing off Zuko’s thighs to rise to his feet. “You’re like a preteen girl trying to sneak out of the house.”

“Know all about that, do you,” Zuko says as he lets Sokka pull him to his feet.

Sokka snorts. Katara in her middle school years… “Come on, let’s get you into the car and into a bath,” he says instead, reaching up to brush at a bit of dirt over Zuko’s unscarred cheek. “You’re looking a bit smudged. And hey,” he adds when Zuko just sighs, looking mournfully at the scooter again, “How about I’ll even see if I can fix Druk for you—on one condition.”

Zuko pauses halfway through perking up, shooting Sokka wary look.

As he should be. “I would like to hear the words.”

Zuko groans, dropping his head back.

“Those sweet, sweet words,” Sokka grins, gazing with all the melodrama he has off into the distance.

“Sokka…” Zuko protests.

Sokka adds in some hands clasped above his heart. “The words every man is dying to hear.”

“This is ridiculous,” Zuko huffs, stalking over to grab up his scooter.

“Just three little words,” Sokka sighs with longing.

“I can fix my own damn scooter.”

Sokka breaks character to raise his eyebrows at him, amused. “Can you now.”

“I can figure it out,” Zuko says, obstinate.

“Uh huh,” Sokka agrees indulgently. “How fast.”

“…I have other scooters,” Zuko grumbles.

“Which is why,” Sokka says, nodding sagely, “You’re holding this one like a baby.”

Zuko glowers another moment, then glances down, scowling harder as he registers the way he’s clutching Druk to his chest.

“Buddy,” Sokka says, clapping him on the shoulder and making his tone mock understanding, “Sometimes it’s just the price you gotta pay for riding without protection.”

Zuko eyes him a moment. “I never hear you complaining,” he mutters.

“Oh, loudly and often, baby,” Sokka smirks, dropping his hand to flip his keys obnoxiously around his finger. “Stop being an ice queen and give ‘em to me, it’s time to pay the dealer.”

Zuko sighs, staring up at the sky a moment. “Fine.”

Sokka cups a hand around his ear. “Fine?”

“Fine,” Zuko grits out.

“Well then, I’m all ears,” Sokka grins, spreading his hands and adding when Zuko mutters something quick and low beneath his breath, “What was that?”

Zuko huffs, glaring. “Youwereright.”

“Hm, I don’t know if I caught that,” Sokka says, tapping at his chin and openly laughing at Zuko’s annoyance. “Come again?”

“You were right,” Zuko snaps, aggrieved, as if he doesn’t do the same thing to Sokka at every chance he gets.

“Oh, what was that? I’m sorry, I got distracted by—”

“You. Were. Right,” Zuko bites out, stiff and annoyed, suddenly shaking himself out and adding, pointed, “You were right that no one could have predicted Toph.”

Sokka blinks. “Toph?”

“Toph,” Zuko agrees, expression caught somewhere between haunted—or hunted, maybe—and satisfaction.

Sokka frowns. “What does Toph have to do with—”

“You might want to fold down your mirrors.”

“What?”

“Your sideview mirrors.” An amusement that Sokka does not trust flits over Zuko’s face as his eyes flick over Sokka’s shoulder. “Might want to fold them.”

Sokka stares a moment, blank. Then he registers the familiar whir of tiny wheels and whirls around to find someone whizzing toward them so fast Sokka can barely see it, letting out a—manly—shriek of surprise. “What the fu—” he cries out, stumbling back and vaguely registering the crash as Zuko drops Druk to steady him.

“Toph,” Zuko says sagely, as the blur of scooter and person and flame decaled protective gear blazes by, perfectly balanced and perfectly straight and cackling as she takes the sideview mirror straight off Sokka��s car, zooming on into the skate park with a fierce grin on her face as other skaters dive out from in front of her. “I thought she could use the elbow pads.”

Sokka stares after her hurtling figure, then slowly transfer his gaze to the mirror still gently spinning on the ground.

“And that’s two of us who couldn’t predict her,” Zuko adds, smug.

“Right,” Sokka says, faint. He thinks…he doesn’t remember that predicting Toph was part of it, but…

“Good thing you just learned how to put one of those back on, love,” Zuko adds, smirking and giving Sokka a solid pat on the back before hefting up Druk again.

“Yeah,” Sokka says faintly as Zuko plucks the keys from his hand, looking far too satisfied for somebody that Toph took out first. “Good thing.”

#asks and answers #ask game #This did not at all go in the expected direction lol #But are we surprised #Sokka #Zuko #Zukka #my writing #fic writing

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sleepcrisis · 8 months

Text

"You're Finally Asleep."

Moon x OC

I was bored and I made this whole shebang with my oc in an hour soooo

Let's fucking go

____________________

"Sleep."

That was the hundredth time he has said that word in an hour. Lue was surprised that he didn't even give up already.

"I told you a thousand times, I can't. I'm working."

"So?" Moon rotated his faceplate upsidedown. "That does not mean you can ruin your sleep cycle like this."

"I still have an apartment y'know? I can sleep there." Lue shrugged, continuing to stare at the computer's security desk. Thankfully enough he was never allowed behind it, due to his protocols. "I still have a life outside of work."

"And what life would that be?"

Okay, ouch.

"Wow."

Moon had that raspy chuckle again, mocking her. "I'm surprised you didn't even kill me just yet."

"How can I? Sun..means a lot to you." Moon sighed, "As much as I hate that thought, maybe even thinking about strangling y— I know! Shut it."

"Well at least we both know that was a lie." Lue snickered.

Ah, at least Sun wasn't blocked from his line of vision again. That was a good step so far.

"Don't make me change my mind."

"Whatever you say, Starboy." That nickname almost always makes him annoyed.

"Please do refrain from calling me that, stupid kid."

Lue raised their head up from the computer, "You used to talk to kids like that Starboy?"

"Oh I oughta-" Moon was so close to grabbing them by the neck, his right optic was blinking rapidly with anger. But he couldn't even move another inch, making him angrier. But the static between his fingers stopped him.

He faced away from the desk, trying to cool himself down.

A few moments of silence has passed.

"... You still need to sleep, starlight."

"I told you," Lue shook their head, "I can't. I have insomnia anyways. Can't sleep that easily even if I wanted to."

Moon paused, his neck rotating as his head was facing them. Totally was not uncomfortable by the sight of it.

"... You're kidding."

"No, I'm not?" Lue raised a brow. What was his deal anyway?

"Step away from the desk."

"N-"

"NOW." Now that surprised them.

"Okay, okay! Jesus, man what is your problem?" Lue then hopped off from the seat of their desk, now walking in front of him. They crossed their arms, annoyed. "Now what?"

Moon then grabbed them by the shoulder, hoisting them up bridal style right. Lue's eyes went wide, "H-Hey!"

The skyline was hooked right into Moon's back almost immediately, lifting then up into the air.

"Moon! Put me the FUCK down!"

Lue screeched, holding onto the lunar animatronic for dear life. That only made Moon raised a brow in amusement, leaving another raspy chuckle escape from his voice box. "What? Is our pessimistic and fearless Luanne Simmons is actually a wimp? You really need to tone down your swearing."

"Put me down!"

Even with her struggling in his arms, they were right on top of the daycare's balcony, stepping inside the curtains. Lue sighed in relief, "Finall—!"

They were soon enough dropped to the floor, making them groan in annoyance. "You're a twisted son of a bitch, you know that?"

Moon snickered, "Charmed."

What an asshole.

"You little-"

"Wait here."

Lue raised a brow, slowly sitting up straight as Moon left outside the curtain. They dusted off any imaginary dust from their pants, looking to where they are as of the moment.

God, it was a mess everywhere. Cluttered clothes and messy drawings from children all over the walls, hell even mangled security bots were laying around in the corner.

There was even a beanbag couch right beside it.

Wait.

Is this Sun and Moon's room?

How can cleanfreaks like them even leave their room like this to rot? That concerned them a little.

"I'm back." Lue turned around to see Moon walking inside with something balled in his fist.

"What's in there?"

"A moondrop candy. It helps the little ones sleep."

"Oh, so basically like a melatonin gummy?" They should really be worried about what Fazbear treats their guests. Especially on how they had the bright idea on how giving melatonin to kids would quote on quote, "help."

"In a way, yes."

Moon walked up to them, sitting on the dirty floor right next to Lue. "Here." He grabbed her wrist, placing the candy inside her palm. He held onto her fingers, closing the candy within it.

Lue took back their wrist, opening their hand. The moondrop candy was covered in bluish purple plastic, littered in stars with a moon in the middle. Cute, and fitting.

They opened the wrapper to see soft blue candy, before popping it right into their mouth.

It tasted sweetly like flowers and honey. With a hint of vanilla and lavender. It was rather nice.

"Now sleep."

Lue sighed, remembering why they were even there in the first place.

"Like I said, I can't sleep that easily at all."

Moon furrowed his eyebrow, now pulling them right over into his lap. They looked rather smaller that way.

"What the-"

"Shh.." He placed a finger over their lips, trying to keep them quiet.

Lue grumbled, grabbing onto his wrist. "... But I'm on the job, Moon. I can't just slack off!"

"I can cover for you, y'know."

Is he serious right now?

"... Really?" Lue eyed him suspiciously.

Moon rolled his eyes, "Yes. Really. I have your database files in my head, I have them for anyone who works here."

"Oh."

Lue bit their lip, fiddling with their fingers. "Is... there a particular reason why are you doing this for me? Is it just your protocol or something else?"

"Who knows, really?" Moon shrugged, being the cryptic little shit he almost always was. "Kind of felt like it."

The bloodthirsty Moon? Doing something like this? The guy who absolutely hates any coworkers he had to deal with? What the hell is happening?

"You're unbelievable."

"I know."

That left a small chuckle escape their lips, shaking their head. Lue hesitantly leaned over to Moon's chest plate, hearing the mechanical whirring that was most likely his hard drive.

Moon's body went stiff the moment they were in contact with his chest, staring at them. "You want me to sing a song for you so you could actually sleep for once?"

Lue hummed, shrugging. "Go for it."

Surprisingly, he actually had a really nice voice that could lull any children into sleep. It felt so calming, so relieving than to the Moon they were even used to seeing for the past month. What happened to him in the first place anyway? Why was he like this?

But even before they could have more of those thoughts, a small yawn escaped their lips. Their eyes started to droop, falling deeper into the abyss.

Moon stared at them for a good minute, now realizing they were finally asleep. "Finally.." He sighed, lifting their head up with support.

"You're finally asleep."

#fnaf daycare attendant #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #fnaf moon #fnaf moondrop #moondrop #moondrop x oc #moondrop x reader #moondrop x you #moondrop x y/n

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themeatpit37 · 2 months

Text

More about the Sunny Time Fair Au!!!!

This is mostly just ramblings, but here are some random bits and pieces that people who found the au can get a glimpse into.

There probably won’t be art for a while, mostly because I don’t know how I would change designs to fit the theme (Jack will get more face paint though and probably a new outfit) and because it’s kinda hard to draw right now.

What I do have though is!!!!!! Some music!

Playlist for the Sunny Time Fair

Welcome to the circus by skittishmusic - Jack tormenting Ian and mocking him for his job at the fair, knowing he could never replace the void left after his death not only as a staff member but as a part of the crew.

Freakshow Theme from American Horror Story - Ambiance perfect for a haunted amusement park! The soft sound mixed with what sounds like groans and squeaks of a balloon being twisted… It really fits the vibe that something is off.

Fall Fair Suite from Ride the Cyclone - A mix of referencing Jack’s death and his attempts to kill Ian, Nick, and Shaun. I imagine this as Jack messing with the ride’s carts before they got on so it would crash. Not a canonical death, but it being them experiencing the horror that is a park ride accident would be certainly something!

Rollercoaster by The Orion Experience - More leaning on the cute, fluffy side of the au where Jack is falling for Y/N and is trying his best to woo them. Plus the irony of a love song about rollercoasters when Jack died on one. The hesitation of Y/N realizing Jack might not be as sweet and innocent as he seems, his manipulative nature slowly seeping in yet he still keeps luring them in.

Terrible ride by The Queenstons - As you can tell, a lot of ride theming and Jack messing with the guys. But also the sinister vibe and the start speaking of taking someone away could be seen as how Ian interprets Jack taking Y/N away while the rest is Jack luring Ian to his death.

Circus by Lindsay Mendez and Drew Gasparini - First of all, song about a person killing for their obsession. Second, all the theming around the circus and clowns. And with that one pair of lines “Good evening gents, step right up into my circus! I’m the ringmaster and this is where the work is!” because it fits Jack in this au so well! He is the ringmaster! The one in control! The one pulling the strings! The victims the singer talks to, I imagine them being the guys from the group. He’d kill Nick first obviously, probably Shaun second so the mentioned line can be sung to Ian since he is basically Jack’s replacement. The ending of the sound with the looping noise could be Ian on the ride’s tracks, flashing from him watching the cart coming to back when Jack died himself only for it to end with the crying. The crying coming from Y/N at the sight of Ian mangled and bloodied, gore strewn throughout the tracks and on the poor traumatized riders.

Also Ian got Y/N a fast pass, something he is able to give out due to his job there. Nick and Shaun still have to wait though because Ian didn’t know they were coming. (This is relevant because this au has a dash of Nick x Shaun in it plus the two try to partner up to survive against Jack only to be separated anyways)

The park crew do not like Ian. Not in a “Fuck you die” way, but they’re definitely still grieving. Sue is the only person to welcome Ian with open arms while Rory on the other hand thinks he’s nothing close to the role Jack had before and will be dead weight. Knackadan doesn’t hate Ian really, but he is definitely still messed up from the incident and keeps his distance. If Ian ever tries to get close to whatever Knackadan is working on, he panics. This is because he blames himself for Jack’s death and worries that he’ll get Ian killed too.

The only reason Sue, Rory, and Knackadan haven’t quit working at the Sunny Time Fair is out of respect for Jack. He was like a friend, maybe even family to them and they don’t want to leave him behind… So they put on brave faces and stayed in memory of their dear friend.

It seems this was appreciated, as all of them experienced non-aggressive paranormal activity after the incident. Sometimes Rory can still hear Jack asking him about what he’s cooking up and Sue occasionally finds open makeup kits in the dressing room along with Jack’s old outfit.

Knackadan keeps seeing figures on the tracks of the rollercoaster replacing the one Jack died on and he even hears the sickening crunch of bones whenever people ride it… But he also keeps finding balloon animals sitting on top of the operating systems or little taffy candies in his tool box.

Jack isn’t a malicious spirit at first. It only started with major changes from the new park owner and the sight of Y/N crying at the fair. He hated seeing people sad at the park, but to him this was the final straw. No one, especially not someone he found so charming, should be left alone to cry.

Will probably add more later but have my word vomit for now!

#something’s wrong with sunny day jack #somethings wrong with sunny day jack #swwsdj #sunny day jack #something’s wrong with sunny day jack au #somethings wrong with sunny day jack au #swwsdj au #Sunny Time Fair AU

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drowning-in-cacophony · 7 months

Text

twisted

For @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 221: Spine In A Twist

[Summary: a girl witnesses her friend's strange ability] [cw: mild body horror - mentions of bones cracking & untwisting]

“Oh no,” she whispers softly, looking at the twisted mess in front of her. “This is actually so disturbing.”

“I’m aware,” he grunts back, dry in tone; if she closes her eyes, it’s just like any of their usual banter. She comments, he’s wry. Except for the fact that she can’t possibly close her eyes. She can’t quite look away at all. It’s truly like nothing she’s ever seen. It’ll be seared onto the back of her eyeballs forever.

A sickening crack spears the forest air; she winces, while he lets out a groan closer to relief.

“You’re- going to crouch there and watch?” He paints a stroke of incredulousness around a smaller click, joints shifting back into sockets. “Don’t you think that’s a little- ah- rude?”

“Is it really bothering you?” She doesn’t think she could look away even if she wanted to. It’s like a mangled car crash: horrifying and intensely attention-grabbing. Another twist, another sound. She’s broken people’s bones before and these are the sounds she’s hearing now. She eyes up the spine – the worst contender here – and the impossible angle it’s contorted at.

And yet still he’s placid enough to raise an eyebrow at her.

“You’d not leave even if I told you to, would you?”

“No, not really,” she admits freely. “Anyway. I think it’d be worse if I did. What would I do, just stand behind one of the tree trunks and try to ignore the sounds echoing around? It’d be awkward.”

“It’s awkward,” he pauses for a grunt, a snap as something pops, “right now. I don’t usually let people watch. I’m not entertainment.”

“Trust me, this isn’t entertaining.” Or is it? Like so-called freak shows at the old circuses. Drawn by the abnormality and isn’t that what roots her to the ground, watching in ever growing fascinations and horror?

He shoots her a look; she bites a lip.

“If you really want me to-”

“It’s fine.” Quickly, decisively, and not because there’s another crack hurrying the words out of him like the King’s hunters sent out on a chase. He doesn’t look away – he’s not the type to bow to embarrassment over fondness, to flinch from the implications – so she doesn’t either. He breaks the contact first, if only because of how his neck spasms, bones twitching and shifting.

“Does it hurt?” Maybe right now isn’t the best time to ask, but later she thinks embarrassment will force her to bow, to tuck these personal questions away for fear of prying. A knee joint lets out a sound like thunder on the horizon, right before the rain comes pouring down; his lips form a thin line around gritted teeth.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe you’re used to it.” The only first here is her actually seeing it. She’s heard plenty, seen him stagger back from situations that should have had him dead. She’s dug her fingers into the tense, sore parts of his shoulder muscles and now, she thinks she’s seeing his spine untwist itself.

No wonder he’s always so sore.

“A little,” he allows. “It gets- expected, after a while. I – shit – don’t get surprised, at least.”

“Is it easy to converse?” If he says no, she’s going to feel somewhat a jerk, but then again, he’s the one engaging her. Making that choice. He could have told her to fuck off from the first words and she would have, even if it’s been hard. She’d have forced her feet to crawl backwards, because she’s often curious but not enough to piss him off. Not when he’s been through this.

A splitting tree trunk; another set of bones. One and the same, ringing in her ears.

“Surprisingly so.” His fingers jerk, marionettes on strings. His breath catches as something follows in his hips, slowly twisting back around. “Shouldn’t be long now. Then we can finish what we came for.”

“You don’t want to rest first?” She doesn’t think she’s blinked this whole time. Engraving the whole thing, start to finish, on the folds in her brain so she’ll definitely recall this forever. The sounds. The strange wrongness of his form. The heavy sick feeling distant in her stomach.

“After this, the first thing I want to do is make someone pay for it.”

The ghost of a wry smile catches her lips. “Can’t say I blame you.”

A few minutes later, and she can truthfully say she knows what a spine resettling itself sounds like. He sits up – finally – and makes sure his legs are properly oriented in his hip sockets. Then he looks up at her, gaze always so unflinching. There’s no shame, no embarrassment.

Just the usual trust, and a helping of vengeance on the side.

She lifts herself to her feet and holds out a hand.

“Let’s go, now you’re finally done rearranging yourself.”

He takes her hand. “Let’s.”

#flash fiction friday #flash fiction #short story #writeblr #anna's writing #word count: 817 #this felt like a peek into some established world I'm curious about #cw body horror #<mild

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