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cardboardclownery · 14 hours

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...hi guys :]

so uhh. folie a deux posting again-

this issss the first chapter i wrote for this!! cookie and i split the chapters among

ourselves specially based on their content and when pitching the idea for this one cookie said they felt sick while reading my idea so. i was chosen to write this one for his sake -v-

SO!! sit back, relax, and enjoy the horrors my friend B]

(also sorry about the bracket bits at the start, we havent made placeholder town names yet or anything ;v;)

FOLIE À DEUX - CHAPTER 5, DRAFT 1

big tw for: graphic depictions of violence, cannibalism, dark themes(?? its freaky idk what youd call it)

I’ve once again found myself in the dark, suffocating woods surrounding the towns of Eastridge. Realistically, I could’ve stayed in [town name] for a bit longer– I had only just started living there before moving out again. Despite that, something in my head is telling me that I have to leave. Telling me how that place is too close to my old home, how easy it would be for Lankmann to find me there.

That voice has been leading me fairly well so far, so I have no reason to stop following him now.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling a bit doubtful, though. I have no reason to believe he’s right or wrong, but a voice telling me to walk endlessly through the wilderness with unconfirmable reasoning isn’t exactly easy to believe. What other choice do I have, though? Stay put and see if it’s proven right, only to risk being put back into that hellish asylum?

No. That isn’t an option. We– I’m not going back there.

God, I’m hungry.

Still, I keep walking, ignoring how much my stomach growled. If I just make it to the nearest town soon, I can get something to eat. I think I still have enough money left to buy something. If not… hopefully they have a soup kitchen. I never imagined I’d end up in a situation where I would depend on something like that. I guess I never considered how people end up homeless or unable to feed themselves.

It feels odd calling myself a “person” now. I don’t know why, but it just seems… wrong in some way.

…I smell something. What is that smell? It’s visceral, almost like raw pork, and yet oddly sweet. I feel drool well up in my mouth and drip down my chin. I quickly wipe it off with my sleeve as I feel my heart begin to pound. Why am I so shaky? And why am I so much hungrier than before?

I look around for the source of the smell only to see a person walking not too far off in the distance. The trees make it hard to see them very well, but I can tell it’s a person. I know it doesn’t make sense for them to be the source of the smell, and yet something’s telling me that they are.

I find myself unable to look away from them. I don’t know why, but I just can’t.

Something about them makes me feel even hungrier.

Why am I hungrier? That’s a fucking person, what is wrong with me? Why can’t I just look away– I keep trying but I can’t get myself to look anywhere else but at them. My jaw falls open, letting more saliva spill out. They start walking farther away, I should walk away too.

But I can’t stop staring.

I can’t stop drooling.

I can’t…

stop…

…

…What...

What’s…going on..?

I can’t remember…how I got here…

I feel something in my mouth…I’m chewing something. It feels like steak, yet tastes more like ham. There’s so much of it, I feel it spilling out over my chin. It’s so warm… and wet… Is it covered in blood..? Was this even cooked at all? What the hell am I eating!?

I look down and–

And–

Fuck. Fuck, I–

I choke on what I was chewing, covering my eyes.

This isn’t fucking happening this isn’t happening–

I uncover my eyes and look down again. I see the same thing.

That person I saw. They’re right here, laying right in front of me. They won’t move, there’s a tear in their neck and they’re bleeding. They’re bleeding a lot.

Their leg’s bleeding too– there’s a deep gash in it. It looks as if an animal had torn it open with its teeth.

There’s blood on my hands. And my face, and my clothes.

There’s so much blood.

A sob pushed at my throat as I willed myself into looking at the person’s face. Another slipped out as I saw them staring back at me, making me look away again. I can’t bear looking at them like this. I can’t believe they’re even alive, let alone conscious.

It would’ve been so much easier if it wasn’t…

…What do you mean, “it?”

They aren’t an “it,” that– that’s a person that’s not–

I shake my head and look back down at its– their leg. The wound left in it is so deep, almost reaching the bone. For some reason, when I looked at this…

When I looked… I felt so, so hungry.

I swallow what remained in my mouth. It tastes… good.

Why does it… taste good..?

Without thinking, I lean down, hold the person’s leg in place and tear off another hunk of flesh with my teeth. The person doesn’t even resist or scream. It just lays there, whimpering in pain.

Its meat tastes so, so good.

I quickly chew up the viscera between my teeth and gulp it down along with the blood it was drenched in. I lick my lips to take in the mess on my face. It was oddly savory, even sweet. I tore off another chunk from its leg.

“I…I-I’m so…I’m sor…ry…” I choked out between chews. “I’m so… so, sorry…”

I swallowed down the mush in my mouth before croaking out another “sorry.” I couldn’t stop repeating as I ate, “sorry,” “sorry,” “I’m sorry,” as if it would do anything. It didn’t take long to notice the person stop responding. It finally died off as I sobbed pointless apologies, devouring what was left of its leg.

My sobs became incomprehensible blubbering after this. I couldn’t bring myself to eat anymore. I just buried my head in my hands, muffling the nonsense tumbling from my throat.

…It’s so odd.

In less than a week, I’ve transformed from a deer in headlights into a predator– a beast perhaps even more frightening than the one I had been running from all this time.

…

I can’t remember exactly how we- I got rid of the body. I just remember panicking, dragging the corpse for hours without thinking. I can’t remember where it is now. I think I stepped on something. Just above my ankle, there’s a bloody gash that must’ve been there for a while now. It’s from a bear trap I think. I probably shouldn’t be walking with a wound like that in my leg. I probably shouldn’t be able to walk with that in my leg. It stings, but it doesn’t hurt as much as it should, I don’t think.

I’m still damp from washing in a river. I think it was a river. It might’ve been a lake, actually. I can’t really remember that, either. I just know I was covered in blood, then went somewhere that had water and left without any blood on me. I couldn’t get the stains off of my clothes, though.

Hopefully no one noticed.

I’m in an apartment now– a small, run-down one, but an apartment. I’ll be stuck living here for a while so I need to get used to it. I’ve been staring at the same spot on the beige, hole-filled wall for a few minutes now, standing just in front of the door leading outside. My bag is lying next to me, having been dropped just after walking inside and closing the door.

I should go to bed.

I should unpack.

I should take a proper shower.

I should turn myself in to the police.

I should

don’t

I don’t. Know.

What do I do now?

Where do I go from here?

What… what do I do..?

I… I killed someone… I can’t even remember where they are now…

I just… hid them… like it was nothing and walked away.

I ate their fucking leg.

Why… why did I… Why…

Why…

I…

Can’t… breathe…

I fall backwards against the door. I can’t breathe. I choke on nothing. I can’t stop shaking.

My eyes start to sting from the tears forming in them. My fingers curl against the floor. My nails dig into it as they do.

Inhuman sounds bubble in my throat.

I feel something heavy wrap around me but nothing is there.

It becomes easier to breathe somehow.

The invisible weight around me grows heavier, pushing me down to the floor.

I curl into myself, lurching with each choked sob of a breath. Despite there being no source of it in the room, I swear I can hear music.

I really have lost it, haven’t I.

#scheduling this so i can jumpscare myself with the notifs later #also to clarify i dont. condone cannibalism-#sorry if this is too much it just felt right for the story we're making and im ill-#doai #dreams of an insomniac #alex williams doai #doai walex #doai folie a deux au

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fogwitchoftheevermore · 2 months

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(context for watcher/listener!sausage can be found in the “videos” tag on my blog if you want it, but this ficlet can be read without said context)

- - -

“Y’know, of all the Hermits I was expecting to be pulling me into a dark corner tonight, I did not expect you to be first, Grian! I love the initiative!”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Grian says in a voice near a hiss. He’s got Sausage by the wrist, leading him into a small area of the upper floor of the tavern in Sanctaury that does look like it was built for the exact purpose Sausage is implying. Grian decides to ignore that as well.

“What are you doing here?” Grian’s straight to the point. He always has to be, with these Things, if he doesn’t want to get trapped in a loop of slant rhyming pleasantries.

“What do you mean?” Sausage asks, shaking his wrist out of Grian’s tight grip and leaning comfortably against the wall. “This is where I live. It’s my home. If anything, I should be asking you mysterious strangers what you’re doing here, but I’m sure you’ve heard that question enough for one day.”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Grian crosses his arms and tries his best not to look petulant, but he sure feels like it. “I thought They’d given up on trying to snatch me back, so why would They send you of all people? What’s your game?”

Sausage laughs, honest to god laughs, like he can’t believe Grian’s even asking him such a question. Grian thinks it’s a reasonable question, in this scenario, but what he thinks and what’s reasonable rarely seems to matter with these things.

“They didn’t send me,” Sausage looks him up and down in that way that makes Grian have to physically stop himself from curling inwards. This is why he never talks to Them. “Nobody sends me anywhere, they don’t tell me what to do and I like it that way! I just do my own thing. Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“No you’re not! You’re not- you can’t be! That’s not how this works!” Grian begins to notice that he’s no longer whisper-shouting and starting to just-normal-shout and takes a deep breath, trying not to draw the attention of his friends enjoying themselves on the floor below. And, realistically, in the other dark corners Sausage seems to have built into this place.

“That’s exactly how this works. You didn’t think you were the only person who’d left, did you?”

Grian opens his mouth, closes it, and thinks. In hindsight… yeah, he had kind of assumed he’d been the only person who’d left. Not for lack of trying, probably- but They’d tried for so long to get him back, kept him closely surveilled even when They’d accepted he was gone- surely some people had caved to that pressure eventually. When there was no sign They’d ever let up, ever let you go… he could understand eventually letting it overtake you.

“Did- did you leave, too?” Grian doesn’t remember the last time he saw Sausage’s face. He didn’t know him back then, of course. He probably would’ve connected the man with the person Pearl so often spoke about sooner. But he knows it’s been a long time, maybe even longer than the last time Grian had gone There. He doesn’t think Sausage had been There, that day. This might explain why.

“Eh, not quite?”

“What-“ Grian flails, both mentally and with his arms a bit. “What do you mean not quite?”

“Exactly what I said! I was never- it’s complicated, y’know?”

“Explain. Now.”

“Well, uh,” Sausage seems to flounder for the first time since this conversation started, which Grian is choosing to take as a victory. “Look, I wasn’t- they didn’t pick me. For this, or for anything, ever. Sometimes things just happen and you get yourself into a place you shouldn’t have and then… they can’t get rid of me, I can’t get rid of them, it is what it is.”

Grian stares at him for a long moment. Really stares at him, in the same way Sausage had looked him over earlier, in the same way that makes you feel like you’re under a microscope. Judging by the sudden nerves in his eyes, Grian can assume he feels it too. Grian remembers his face. That had been the first thing he’d noticed, when the Hermits had arrived. It had been a long time since they’d seen each other, but Grian knew his face. And now that Grian was studying him, really trying to remember… he’s not sure he quite likes what memories he’s dredging up.

“What are you?”

“Grian!” Sausage’s voice drips with mock offense as he puts his hand up to partially cover his mouth. “We only just met, do you think that’s polite?”

“Answer the question,” Grian sighs. How Pearl deals with this man on the regular, he doesn’t know.

“Well, if you insist.” Sausage sighs, somehow even more exaggerated than his previous movements. “It’s just… if you’ll believe it, it’s somehow even harder to answer the first question.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Grian says. “They’re two very different People, you know.”

“But they’re the same species, when it all comes down to it. Like, you might be very different than a chicken, but you’re both birds in the long run.”

Grian pauses, fanning his wings out a bit behind him as he considers. “I don’t think that metaphor’s quite landing the way you want it to.”

“No, me neither. Anyways, let me continue.

When they don’t pick you, things go a little differently! You don’t get sorted onto one side or the other since, well, you’re not really supposed to be there? So I’m… whatever I want to be, really. I think I’m feeling like more of a Listener, today, but we’ll see how the mood shifts.”

Grian flinches at the Name, on instinct. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he files it away to be dealt with at a later date. As for the rest of what Sausage said-

“What?”

“You heard me.” Sausage shrugs. He’s so nonchalant, Grian thinks he might strangle him, if not for the worry that that’s exactly what he wants out of this, somehow.

“Did I? Did I hear you?” Grian wants to pace, but that requires leaving the security of the corner, so he forces his feet to root themselves to the floor. “I thought- I thought you had to- if you wanted to change sides, I thought you had to-“

Grian closes one eye and takes his thumb to it, twisting the finger into his eyelid. The gesture seems to get the point across.

“Well, that’s the funny thing about this, actually.” From the way he’s been talking, Grian assumed Sausage thought this whole thing was funny. He restrains himself from saying that out loud if only so Sausage will finish his explanation.

Sausage reaches up to his left eye, pulls his eye lid back a bit, and unceremoniously pops out his prosthetic eye.

“All these processes and rituals actually have a lot of loopholes.”

Grian doesn’t know what face he’s making, but it’s enough to make Sausage giggle while he pops the eye back in. Because of course he does. Because this how his day is going, apparently. Walk through a weird portal in his basement and wake up in a world filled with his friends who don’t recognize him and also a guy he only ever saw There, who he was never supposed to see again. Sure. Of course he’s laughing about it. Grian thinks if he was a slightly different person, he’d be laughing too. It is, undeniably, absurd.

“Well, I think we’re done here then!” Grian would probably object if he weren’t so shocked about the loopholes. As it is, he just stands there a bit stupidly.

Sausage turns away to return to the party before turn around again for just a moment, reaching over, and ruffling Grian’s hair. That shocks him enough to shake him out of his stupor and swat Sausage’s hand away, though not before his hair is suitably messed up.

“What was that for?!”

Sausage smiles as he reaches up to rough up his own hair as well. “I assumed you didn’t want your friends asking questions about why you were dragging me into a dark corner, you know?” Sausage even goes far enough to pull his shirt a bit out of where it’s tucked into his pants, because of course he does. Grian tries not to cringe, but Sausage is right about this one thing. It is the easiest way to dodge any questions about where he’d gone off to- at the expense of the many knowing looks and teasing remarks he’ll be getting from the other Hermits instead.

“Have a good night, Grian!” Sausage calls over his shoulder as he turns to leave for real this time. “And remember, drinks are on me for all you guests tonight! You look like you need it.”

#empires smp #hermitcraft #grian #mythicalsausage #hermitfic #empiresfic #long post #my writing #….do i need to tag shipping on this #they’re not actually DOING anything. and i would say i’m not really going much further than sausage usually does #but like. idk man. if i wake up in the morning and decide i need to tag shipping i will #anyways. fics for an audience of like two people total #but that’s ok cause i like this SO MUCH #the first few sentences have been rotting in my tumblr drafts for like at least two months #and i finally kicked myself into gear to just finish it #and i had fun! i liked the way i used capitalization here to really wedge the difference between how these two think of the watchers #(and listeners)#grian doesn’t necessarily respect them but he does still see them as Other. and he’s maybe a little afraid #so all the important stuff gets capitalized #sausage doesn’t. he doesn’t respect them and he doesn’t fear them and they’re just a weird bureaucracy to him #so no capitalization!#also ten seconds after posting this i got a post on my dash #of sausage posting a screenshot of e’s tumblr post about him checking tumblr in their twitter replies #terrifying. hey king if you see this keep the bit up. i think it’s funny

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