Fantasy F.E.A.R Club IC

[Juju]

When Ginny laid eyes on the cabin she almost sobbed in relief. With the door slightly ajar, she half fell into the creaky doorway and shoved it closed behind her. With a practiced motion, she slid the lock into place and cursed at how flimsy it sounded.

The sweat had made her coiled hair stick to her face, getting into her eyes. She wiped it away with her hand as she backed away from the door, eyes wild and ears straining for any sound. Within a moment that thing would slam against the door, ripping it from its rusted hinges. Still the silence pressed on, ticked by with every painful second. Ginny could not understand. It had been on her heels this whole time, and yet the door was not touched. Instead she was left in silence, with nothing but her gasps of air and the rush of blood in her ears.

Where was it? Had it given up the chase, or was it circling around for a weak spot? Ginny crept towards a dusty window and peeked into the darkness. Two red eyes stared back. She recoiled away, shuffling back into the darkness of the cabin. It was waiting for her, patiently, eating up her dread. The cabin was a trap, and she had ran right into it.

Something sharp pressed into her arm as she backed up, and when she flinched it cut into the sleeve of her dress. The fabric tore, and in the process knocked down something to the floor. It clattered with a heavy clang, followed by the clinking of chains.

Gin squinted in the dark to see what looked like an axe or sickle attached to a chain. There was probably a name for it, but she hadn't the faintest idea. Her ex would have known. He had a thing for blades and knives. Speaking of which, now that her eyes were drawn to this point of the room, she noticed the slight glint of other blades in the dimness. Hunting knives stacked on the wall, an axe resting on the motheaten sofa. There was even a large spear jutting out across a window. Yet what drew her attention was a mounted sword hanging above the empty fireplace. It looked sharp enough to do some damage, and long enough to be useful at a distance. All around generally versatile.

Even as she thought this, a sense of hopelessness overwhelmed her. What was she thinking? Bullets did nothing to that thing back at the warehouse. An overrated knife wasn't going to make a difference.

Still, Gin stepped onto the brick platform and pulled the sword from off its mount. It was surprisingly light, and seemed sturdy enough as she gave it a practice swing. In stories, swords were always used to kill the monsters.

Just the remembrance of such a thing stirred an unexpected surge of rage in her chest. A disbelief wrought by hopelessness and fear. Here she was, clinging to some childish fantasy out of desperation. It felt maddening, to be at this thing's mercy, hiding in her so-called shelter. It was only a matter of time until it grew bored and broke through the molding walls like an egg. All she could do was wait.

Ginny gripped the hilt of the sword and grit her teeth. All her life she had lived in fear. At the very least, she didn't want to die that way.

Gin's head felt light as she walked towards the door as if in a trance. Every part of her was shaking, and her stomach was full of twisting adders. She hardly felt her fingers as she unlocked the door and let it swing open.

Her cheeks were warm and wet when she stepped out into the night, sweaty hands raising her sword towards the pair of red eyes.

"GO ON THEN," She screamed. "COME GET ME!"

seasonedcat

 

[jmann]

Watchdog
”Deonte Brookes”

Watchdog roared as the lightless force slashed his torso. Fabric shredded and fresh stitches tore anew. His knees buckled beneath him but he refused to let himself fall. He swung his bat like a deranged baseball player, swinging in any direction he thought the beast would be. Fresh stitches were tore anew

In a brief moment of respite he tore off his goggles and strapped them to the end of the bat. The small LEDs around the lenses did little to illuminate the creatures, but he could at least tell where his bat swung.
He could hear them, too. The shift of limb rubbing against limb. With nothing to see but the two yellow rings on his bat and nothing to hear but his own shallow breathing and the movement in the void, Watchdog readied his stance.

There were shapes out and around him, they held a form for only a moment before returning to mist. Whatever was out here was not something Watchdog could fight.
As they came at him again, he swung with more and more accuracy.
“GET BACK!” Watchdog shouted into the blackness. He was outnumbered; outgunned. Watchdog knew he couldn’t take them all. He only hesitated for a moment before he broke into a run. Somewhere in the darkness he would find a haven from whatever chased him, he was sure of it.

---

seasonedcat

 

[seasonedcat]

Spoiler: Lilac

something inside you seemed to let out an almost unhappy noise in your head at the mercy you had shown. Seemingly unpleased by your actions a shot of extreme pain flew through any body part connected with the axe you had looted until you dropped it. If you managed to look down at your self you would see ugly burns that lined your arms under the splatters of blood as if it had been acid.

it was then that you could feel your body freeze up, an overwhelming presence engulfing her like she was submerged in an ocean of blood. The world around her began a forethought as her mind seemed to focus on this.

"wₕy ₛₕₒw ₘₑᵣcy...?" a voice croaked in your ears. A voice of a young man who's throat sounded raw from screaming too long. A voice you could not place amidst the waves of crimson. "wₕₑₙ dᵢd ₜₕₑy dₑₛₑᵣᵥₑ ₘₑᵣcy?" it spat, you could feel the spit hit your cheek, a stench of iron on it. You slowly lost feeling to the rest of your body, the only thing you could focus on being what was happening in seemingly your mind.

"ₜₕₑy cᵣaᵥₑ ᵥᵢₒₗₑₙcₑ


​

you cold feel your body again, the only thing was you weren't the one moving it. Your body moved on its own, picking up the axe again as you began to walk to a woman who was stumbling along the side walk, a head injury clear from the blood on her hair. You began to raise the axe. You were going to kill her, it rang it your mind that was what was going to happen. A sick laughter filled Lilac's head and it made it hard for her to think, she was sinking deeper into the sea of blood as her body began to move on its own. She needed to do something or else this innocent woman would die. Or maybe she didn't need to do anything, maybe it would be better this way. After all, violence was all around, maybe it was what everyone craved
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Tapfic

Spoiler: Jet

screams of fear echoed through the circus for a moment at Jet's sudden violent lunge, however the chains around him could only go so far, the man stumbling back and falling on his butt, a look of pure fear filling his face as he looked at Jet. This fear only lasted a moment before it turned into a look of amusement and pride. He announced more words as the crowd once again began to cheer happily. He just danced outside of Jets range of movement, dashing back if Jet were to reach for him again, laughing at any struggles that were made.

the world around you slowly muddled together the laughs becoming mere sounds as your mind felt as if it was somewhere different. Grasped in wet, meat, bundles of different types, holding you against its cold skin. Blood occasionally dripped onto you as the circus faded into the back of your mind. "ᵢₛₙ'ₜ ᵢₜ ₛᵢcₖ?" a woman spoke quietly in your ear, her voice was thin, elegant and perfect. You wondered if the meat from her body was mixed around you too.

"Mₑaₜ fₒᵣ ₜₕₑₘ ₜₒ ₑaₜ."

"Mₑaₜ fₒᵣ ₜₕₑₘ ₜₒ waₜcₕ"

"Mₑaₜ fₒᵣ ₜₕₑₘ ₜₒ ₑₙⱼₒy"

the voice trailed off for a moment before it spoke again, this time on the other side of you, so close you could feel its breath, "Bᵤₜ ₜₕₑy fₒᵣgₑₜ ₜₕₑy aᵣₑ ₘₑaₜ ₜₒₒ"

"ⱼᵤᵢcy, ₜₑₙdₑᵣ, faₗₗᵢₙg ₒff ₜₕₑ bₒₙₑ." it chuckled to you, you could feel its drool dripping onto you, "wₕy dₒₙ'ₜ wₑ ᵣₑₘᵢₙd ₜₕₑₘ?"

you could feel a disconnect with yourself as your body began to move, the chains fell through your arms and legs as if they were made of liquid. Your body stood and you could see your body begin to twist. You could hear your bones snapping and breaking as it began to change and morph. You could also hear screams all around you as you began to move towards the man who had been mocking you, on the ground frozen as he looked up in fear.

You could feel the drool soaking your back as the meat began to compress on you as if it were trying to force you to become part of it, the meat was going to consume you just like you were about to consume the man before you. You were going to tear his flesh off and eat it from the bone. You could resist against it refuse to let the meat absorb you and also refuse to tear apart the man in front of you and the ones in the stand, or you could give in, after all meat is meat.
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ScatheAriiasqDrayceon

Spoiler: Mari

the soil seemed to part ways as if making room for you, your own actions inspired by seemingly DIG itself. The only thing was that as you pushed through, you found your body to be buzzing as if filled with bees, that being the only feeling you seemed to have left from your body. You found this odd, but it of course had to have just been your lack of oxygen right?

it didn't take long before your mind seemed to detach itself, finding itself buried many miles under dirt as you heard a coarse voice behind you, barely above a whisper, so strained against its vocal cords it sounded painful for them to speak, "Dᵢg....Dᵢg....Dᵢg....Dᵢg..."

"Oᵤᵣ ₙaᵢₗₛ cᵣacₖ, ₒᵤᵣ fᵢₙgₑᵣₛ bᵣₑaₖ, bᵤₜ aₗₗ ₜₕaₜ ᵢₛ ₗₑfₜ ᵢₛ ₜₒ

"Dᵢg....Dᵢg....Dᵢg....Dᵢg..."​

a disjoined laugh filled your ears, clunky and manic of a sort, digging into your very ear drums, "bᵤₜ ₜₕₑy ₕaᵥₑ ₙₒₜ dₒₙₑ ₜₕₑ dᵢggᵢₙg yₑₜ, ₙₒ... ₙₒ... ₙₒ, Nₒ ₜₕₑy ₕaᵥₑₙ'ₜ..."

"Sₒ ₗₑₜ ᵤₛ ₛₕₒw ₜₕₑₘ, ₗₑₜ ᵤₛ ₛₕₒw ₜₕₑₘ ₜₕₑ fᵤₙ, ₗₑₜ ᵤₛ..."

"Dᵢg....Dᵢg....Dᵢg....Dᵢg..."​

your body seemed to tear itself from the soil, this team with an ease far greater than ever possible. The only issue with this is that you were not the one moving your limbs. You were covered in dirt, even under your eyelashes and nails, covered in a filth, but that didn't feel dirty to you, in fact it felt right. But you began to move towards your family, crawling out as they continued to throw dirt as if they did not see you.

your body grabbed a shovel and it clicked to you what was about to happen. You were about to burry every single one of them. You could see it now, the holes that sat beside the one you had just crawled out of, each baring the name of one of your loved ones. It was as you picked up the shovel too that they seemed to look at you, fear flashing over their faces as you could hear your own voice begin to laugh along with the words 'DIG' that kept echoing in your ears. They were going to burry you after all, it only seems fair if they have their turn 6 feet under, right?
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Sleepless_Dreamer

Spoiler: Gray

something seemed to purr in your ears at your secrets, satisfied with its fill, the ropes tightening around you to signify its pleasure. Your body grew numb from the lack of circulation as the voices continued to dance around in your ears. But something dragged you away, pulling the rope attached to your mind away from your body, silencing all but one voice as your mind found yourself wrapped tightly in all forms of constraint. A voice that talked close to your ear, whispering quickly and quietly as if scared that someone might hear it.

"caₙ'ₜ yₒᵤ fₑₑₗ ₜₕₑᵢᵣ gazₑₛ ₒₙ yₒᵤᵣ ₛₖᵢₙ? Tₕₑy ₜaᵣₑ away aₜ ₘy fₗₑₛₕ, ₜₕₑ ₗₑaᵥₑ ₘₑ baᵣₑ bₒₙₑd ₒₙₗy ₜₒ ₜₑaᵣ away ₛₒₘₑ ₘₒᵣₑ, ₙₒ ₙₒ ₙₑᵥₑᵣ ₑₙₒᵤgₕ..." the voice seemed to shiver, pausing for only a moment to look around itself as you could assume before speaking, "NO! Tₕₑy waₙₜ ₘₒᵣₑ, ₜₕₑy waₙₜ ₘₒᵣₑ, ᵢₜ'ₛ ₙₑᵥₑᵣ ₑₙₒᵤgₕ!" you could feel your mind black in and out as the restraints grew too tight from its outburst before it continued,

"ₕₒw abₒᵤₜ wₑ ᵤₛₑ ₜₕₑᵢᵣ ₛₑcᵣₑₜₛ ᵢₙₛₜₑad ₕᵤₕ?! Hₒw wₒᵤₗd ₜₕₑy fₑₑₗ ₙₒw, ₜₕₑy caₙ'ₜ ₗaᵤgₕ aₜ ₘₑ aₙyₘₒᵣₑ!" a sickening laugh filled your ears as you were brought back down to your body, watching as you stood up, the ropes falling to the ground as if they had never been tied. You watched as your body proceeded to type into the computer, spewing secrets of those you cared about, any secret you could find, anything you could use to hurt someone.

laughter continued to fill your ears, but then your body looked up, the basement seemed longer than it was before, this time housing everyone that hurt you, all tied up in rope and chains. You could see their crying faces as the bindings around them slowly tightened, the camera now facing them as they slowly were constricted. At this rate they would die soon, the world watching and laughing as they did so. No longer were you on the receiving end, but them. They deserved to suffer after all.
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BittyBobcat

Spoiler: Ginny

as soon as the words flew out of Ginny's mouth the adrenaline in her veins seemed to switch from a pump keeping her going to an intoxicating feeling far different than the ones she used to get from alcohol, this one filled her with a pleasure she had never known, the desire to hunt, and the thrill of it. Her chest heaved and her breathing mixed with a heavier one that felt like it was just behind her, one of a wolf who's spit dripped onto her shoulder.

no fear filled her body at this thing behind her however, because she knew, somehow, that it was not a beast hunting her, no, it was hunting a different prey. Ginny could feel herself take a step forward, it was at this point she felt the control of her body fade as she took a step forward, the beast that had once been chasing her now came into view. A runt of a wolf, hair ragged and unkept, as it now looked at her in fear. The only issue was that while looking down at this pitiful creature Ginny felt satisfaction, joy from the fear that the creature.

her once unsure stance with the sword grew more confidant, deadly as she approached the whimpering animal, that quickly scurried off as she took off after it in a run, the padding of her feet sounding as if it were paws as she ran. Her mind drifted away as her body continued to run, a rough feminine voice filled her head as her mind felt as if it was sitting in bushes, leaves tickling her as if she were stalking something.

"ₗₒₒₖ aₜ ᵢₜ ᵣᵤₙ, ₒₕ ₕₒw fᵤₙ."

"Sₒ ₕₑₗₚₗₑₛₛ, ₛₒ afᵣaᵢd"

"Bᵤₜ ₕₒw I ₗₒᵥₑ ₜₕₑ ₕᵤₙₜ, ₕₒw ⱼₒyfᵤₗ, ₕₒw ₗₒᵥₑₗy "

"faₛₜₑᵣ ₙₒw, cₒₘₑ ₒₙ, I aₘ ⱼᵤₛₜ ₒₙ yₒᵤᵣ ₜaᵢₗ, dₒₙ'ₜ ₗₑₜ ᵢₜ ₑₙd ⱼᵤₛₜ yₑₜ"

the voice laughed in your ears, a sound that felt similar to a bark of a wolf. This time you were not the prey, you were the hunter, and you knew that you were playing with your prey, but when you caught them you would tear them to pieces in every way possible. It was revenge right, so what would it matter. You could finally be someone who isn't the prey. You could be the hunter this time, stalking instead of being stalked. What's the harm in a little justice?
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Juju

Spoiler: Deonte

despite his hopes, Deonte's goggles did not provide any light to him, the darkness seeming to eat up the light itself and the only thing he could see was the place where the light began, nothing else. Despite Deonte's best efforts to not let any fear show, he found himself taking into a sprint in hopes to get away from the enemies around him. He fled, farther into the darkness, seeming to go on forever as his shoes pounded against the hard ground.

as he ran he could still feel the eyes, they weren't stopping, they were everywhere, he just couldn't see them. In his sprinting his foot connected with something as his body hurdled to the harsh ground, his skin tearing away from his knees as pain ricocheted through his limbs from the impact. Would the creatures be upon him now that he stopped? What would become of him now that he wasn't gaining distance?

it took a moment after those thoughts for his mind to get swallowed by a different darkness, one that could never house light, one where light had never existed in the first place.

"dₒ. yₒᵤ. fₑaᵣ. ₜₕₑ. daᵣₖ?" it muttered deep into his ears, its voice deep and low, coming from an unknown place amongst the darkness separate from the one his body was in.

"wₕy. ₛₕₒᵤₗd. yₒᵤ. fₑaᵣ. ᵢₜ?"

"ₛₕₒᵤₗdₙ'ₜ. ₜₕₑy. bₑ. ₜₕₑ. ₒₙₑₛ. afᵣaᵢd?" with those words it was as if a light switch had been turned on, Deonte could see the world around him, as if he had night vision, the only thing was the many people that were around him seemed to be unable to see now. They looked afraid, suddenly cast in a darkness he could not see as they stumbled around, trying to grasp a wall, something he could not see despite being able to pierce the darkness.

your body moved on its own now, picking itself up as it picked up the bat you had once been using in self defense. But as you held it you knew that this time you were not holding it for self defense. As they stumbled, blind, you approached them, you could feel your face twisting into a sickening smile as the voice in your head hummed a tune you could not recognize. This time you would be the one playing with them, taking them out as the ones around them were unaware, their friends slowly disappearing into the darkness when they could be right next to them. They used to be servants of the darkness that had hunted you, what was the issue with them becoming the ones hunted?
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jmann

Spoiler: Thomas

Thomas continued to fall, how many minuets had went by since he was first pushed? The sun could be seen setting, the only issue was that there was no horizon for it to disappear behind, so how exactly was it fading away? There was no explanation that Thomas could think of that would be the correct answer if there even was one. The sky continued to encase him. As the wind rushed past him however, an airy voice seemed to pull him into another vast open space, this one had nothing in it, and as his mind sat in it he could not tell if he was falling or floating inside it.

"faₗₗᵢₙg... ᵢₛₙ'ₜ ₜₕaₜ fᵤₙ?" the voice was as light as the wind as it breathed the words out to you. "Bᵤₜ, wₕaₜ'ₛ ₘₒᵣₑ fᵤₙ ᵢₛ waₜcₕᵢₙg ₜₕₑₘ faₗₗ..."

the world around you changed faster than you could process it as you could see the ground again, this time you could see the people walking on it begin to fall into the sky, their screams echoed throughout the air as you could hear a breathy laugh in your ears. You weren't falling anymore, rather you felt as if you were floating, watching as people you knew and didn't know fell endlessly into a void of darkness, one where the moon and stars were no longer home there.

"ₗₑₜ'ₛ waₜcₕ ₜₕₑₘ faₗₗ fₒᵣₑᵥₑᵣ ᵤₙₜᵢₗ ₜₕₑy caₙ ₙₒ ₗₒₙgₑᵣ ₛcᵣₑaₘ..." the voice spoke in a joyful tone to you as you could find yourself not looking away from their suffering, your body moved on its own as you found a woman holding onto something, you moved towards her, you knew what your next actions would be even if you weren't the one moving your body. You were going to break her grip, one finger at a time until she was also falling into the fast emptiness as everyone else. You also knew that this voice was going to enjoy watching that, but were you?
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Solirus

Spoiler: Clu

as the strangers closed in on you, you made the choice to flee into the ventilation. As you pushed yourself through its dusty walls you felt safe for a moment before sounds filled your ears. Thumping bellow you, scratching at the ceiling holding the shaft up. You could piece together very quickly that they were clawing at the shaft and you were going to fall.

your efforts to prevent your fall bore no fruit as you suddenly found yourself falling down into a dark room, one seemingly next to the one you were in last time. The room was also filled with mannequins, all set up in different poses, all in a circle around you. They all looked down at you without their face, even without eyes, staring at you like you were a wild beast they were about to pounce on. Their pale coloured fingers' paint was chipped, some chunks of the ceiling lay at your feet and it was clear they were the ones who brought you down.

before you could make another action a soft, perfect voice filled your ears. The only thing was it sounded slightly static too, sounded so close to real but something inside you felt as if it weren't, "ₕₑₗₗₒ ₘy ₒₗd fᵣᵢₑₙd, wₕy dₒ yₒᵤ fₑaᵣ?" the voice hummed softly to you as you could feel your mind drift away into some shopping center somewhere, even in the mind you could not move, your joints locked up again. "Iₛ ᵢₜ bₑcaᵤₛₑ ₜₕₑy aᵣₑ ₙₒₜ ₕᵤₘaₙ?" she continued,

"bᵤₜ wₕaₜ ₑₓacₜₗy ₘaₖₑₛ a ₕᵤₘaₙ?"

"ᵢₛ ᵢₜ ₙₒₜ ⱼᵤₛₜ a cₒₙcₑₚₜ?"

"a ₜₕₑₒᵣy?"

"dᵢd yₒᵤ ₑᵥₑᵣ wₒₙdₑᵣ ᵢf ₘaybₑ yₒᵤ wₑᵣₑ ₜₕₑ ₒₙₑ wₕₒ waₛₙ'ₜ ₕᵤₘaₙ?" with those words you found that the world around your body was not the same anymore. The mannequins were now people, or humans, dancing around in some party as you stood, skin pale and plastic in the middle of the house party. Some tacky lei was around you as the reek of sweat and booze filled your plastic nose.

despite this being your body you felt your control was not there as you watched yourself move, you joints cracking unnaturally as you moved. Someone noticed and let out a scream, running to the door only to find it locked. The party was in shambles as you moved towards them, your voice coming out in a similar static to the one who had been whispering in your ear.

"aₙ ₒₗd fᵣᵢₑₙd ₕaₛ cₒₘₑ ₜₒ ᵥᵢₛᵢₜ"​

you knew exactly what monstrosities you were going to do to them, show them what its like to look human but not as you lurked towards them, joints shuffling as you walked.
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Squad141

the silencer did good to muffle the gunshot that would have rang out in the room. Ten beds were crammed into the tight room, bunk beds lined the walls, every bed but one held a person, all seeming to be in a deep sleep. One however, was no longer breathing. The gunshot had hit them in the head as their body fell off the bed they had been getting off of, shadows of the room seemed to fall back down to where they normally would have laid, the one who had been holding them up, no longer breathing.

"I hate those Madhouse pricks, I don't know why I even bothered." the voice of the person holding the gun spoke, lazily handing the gun back to the other person in the room, smoke from her cigarette loitering in the room as she looked up at him unamused from the chair she was in.

"its not their fault madhouse tends to break them all when they are in there, I would be surprised if the human psyche could recover from some fun time along with good old Maddy." she breathed out through one last puff as she smothered the cig in a makeshift ash tray. Night breathed out a laugh as he continued to stare at the body of Issac as his blood pooled under him.

"You know Pitch would be proud of you, and I want you to know that you aren't alone here Night-"

"Forget can clean this up, let me know when they all wake up." Night interrupted with a gruff voice, turning on his heels and leaving without saying anything more, leaving Phoebe there alone, letting out a long sigh. She looked at the clock on the wall, "almost time..." she placed the gun to her cheek as she watched the rest of the recruits closely, even as Forget entered and removed the body, covering up his gags as he did so.

The blood still stained the sheets, the broken restraints of his bed, they would all make this more difficult for the ones who did wake up, even if they were restrained, she just hoped Forget could clean this up before they woke up, its already going to be one hell of shit show. Of course what wasn't a shit show after the damn entities and avatars showed up. How many people could truly recover from an avatar taking over their mind? How many people could make the right decision when faced against an avatar? She knew it was hell whenever she had been put through it. She wonders how many more would not make it, or if any. She lit up another cigarette, this was going to be a long night.

"damn..."

 

[Tapfic]

Lilac
Dreamscape
TW: Dream sequence suicide attempt

An unfamiliar voice spilled like hot tar through every crevice of her mind. Oozing into the very depths that not even Lilac dared stare into.
She could feel the hammer of her heart beating in her ears as the man's hoarse voice dripped from the edges of her psyche, staining lavender with deep crimson. The voice was unlike her own in every way. Unsteady, hoarse, shamefully weak, and disgustingly emotional.

She wanted it dead.

The laughter rang in her ears as the blood burnt her skin- searing hot pain shooting through her arm and cheek as she lifted the axe. Her arm shook as she held it, straining every ounce of will she had left in her.
Through the laughter, and clutter of sensations as the war waged in her mind and in the world outside of it- a single thought rung clear.

She was going to kill the voice in her head. Whatever it took.

" I don't care about mercy," The words ground themselves through her teeth. Cold, yet seething.
" I want to kill-"

Laughter continued to ring through her skull. Echoing. Earsplitting.
The only thing the girl had in this world was her mind. The one thing that could never be taken from her- how dare this bastard ooze in and fill her with thoughts she would never think.
Lilac didn't want violence. She wanted to kill every monster that had ever wronged her- and now that those soldiers were dead and gone, this intruder in her mind was her target of vengeance.

Nothing mattered to her more now than making it regret laying its grimy claws into her.
The woman crumpled at her feet would live, but not because of mercy. She didn't know the woman, and by the looks of her injury- she wouldn't last very long either way.

No. The woman would live because Lilac would not let her be killed. The death at her hands would mean Ly had lost the battle.
Loralai lost. She lost her mother, her life, her future- everything good she had ever been given or taken for herself was gone.

Lilac did not lose.

The axe came down in a swift and unforgiving motion. Blood coated the rubble littering the ground before her.

The woman was unharmed.

The red coated blade ended its swing embedded in the wielder's chest.

" You. "

One final word to complete the slaughter, pained and breathy.

Loralai Alice had decided a very long time ago she would die before she lost herself , and her story could end just as she had planned it to.
Not even her own death could be taken from her.

seasonedcat

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

TW: Mild self harm.

Jet found that his intrusive thoughts were getting real annoying, but he let himself hiss at the circus director anyway, rocking his shoulders like an irritated cat. Still, it didn't appear dream logic was on his side, so he stuck to letting his own movement roll down his back, and keeping his attention on his stuttering heart. His irritation cooled quickly.

Slowly, though, dream logic kicked back in and the world blurred into indistinctness. The laughter faded from his eardrums, though if he thought about it, he could still hear it. Something brushed across his arm. It left a trail of sticky, wet—Wet. Wet. Wet. Wrong—coolness.

Jet's stomach jumped, and he bit down on the gag that threatened the back of his throat with only the vague notion in the back of his mind that he could choke on his own vomit. As such, he missed the first half of the odd, though pleasant-sounding—he wondered if she sang at all—woman's whole... speech. It was only once—perhaps not his own mind, but something sang the idea of her own... flesh? Meat? Residing amongst that which seemed intent on dripping wetness—shiver. Wet. Bad—across his back.

He swatted the thought away, chiding himself. Not just rude, but creepy as well. Still, he managed to catch the tail end of her first sentence and piece it together from there.

"It is sick," he agreed quietly, continuing to rock his shoulders. Idly, he wondered how long it would take for him to wake—maybe forever, considering how long dreams could last. He might already be dying, actually.

Well, he supposed, technically he was dying, all things considered. He pressed a hand into his sternum as if by sheer force of will he could calm his heart. Then, again, he repeated "it is sick."

"It is sick, but—" His nose crinkled with a half-grimace as the woman continued... then a glob of thicker-than-blood liquid fell onto his head. Jet sighed. He was familiar enough to know it was saliva, but he supposed he'd dealt with worse. "but being sick back hardly helps. It just makes more—"

His voice died in his throat as the chains grew slack around his arms. Jet's back prickled, and a snap twinged in his chest.

It reminded him of CPR training. Broken bone.

Another. Arm. Four more. Hands. Yet still, no pain pierced him, and he continued forward. Slowly. Even as well-mannered as he was, usually, he could recognize a stalk. Like a cat on the street hunting a rat.

Flesh oozed behind him. Grease, blood, and what he assumed—mostly by the smell—was spinal fluid washed up around his elbows. Its song hummed around his neck, chattering at his nerves and sparking a grin that felt like it was made far too much out of teeth.

He was six paces from the circus director by the time the first scream broke through the miasma of the melody. He stopped.

It was mostly a decision by muscle-memory—screaming was often a bad sign in a city, he found—but the movement—rather, lacktherof—jarred him enough to give him pause. To think.

It took him a moment to piece together what happened. Blasted siren song, Jet cursed to no one but himself.

Again, a scream. Jet's skin prickled.

Feed, that venomous part of his brain whispered as it had the past eight surgeries he'd been involved in. Skin from flesh. Flesh from bone. Meat is meat, is it not? He felt like it was smiling at him. I'm sure they'd be good in a stew.

On its own, his body shifted forward. The song hummed in the back of his brain once more.

No.

Then words. Giggling. It tore itself from the melody, yet sang with it all the same.

It'd be fun.

No.

Such an insolent little doll you are. Where was this spark when you were cooking, hm? What he could only assume was Mould tugged at his hands. Drew him in. Honed his focus on the circus director with eyes he knew were never that keen before. There's hardly a difference between a cow's head and a man's, is there not? You know this.

A tremor ran up Jet's back. Still, he cocked his head, letting the too-sharp image of the circus director shift to the side. Where were you while I cut the meat and let the onion simmer? I could barely hear your Song over the pan. I shouldn't think I would do something I'd regret without you whispering in my ear. A dream this may be, but you're here all the same making everything more difficult than it needs to be.

The matter of control again? Such a stubborn little thing you are. Dramatic. A half-stifled laugh.

Jet shifted his weight back, digging his nails into the palms of his hands.

Dramatic I may be, but worse you are for all your theatrics. I'm certainly not the one with his own music, Jet scoffed, wresting his wrists from Mould's pull.

Hurtful. Again, Mould pulled, and again, Jet clung to the sensation of skin under nail. Focused.

A step back. Jet pressed his spine into the meat behind him, digging his feet into the sand.

You scored my arm, so I should think it right. Besides, your words have less room for themselves the more you use them, so I do think it's past time for you to hush. Jet braced himself, mind's voice sour as he argued.

Make me. Had he not been prepared for it, Mould's pull would have unbalanced him. As it was, he barely managed to take another step away from the circus director, and he threw as much of his weight into it as he could.

Mould laughed, and that blasted lyricless melody began again with the same set of notes he heard every morning.

Quiet. Be quiet. This is my mind. This is my body. My life and my decisions. As such, I say you. Will. Be. Silent. Skin broke, and Jet whirled around on the spot as pain bloomed in his palms. He faced the dark expanse of wet, shiny red and hissed low through his teeth. And this is my dream.

Air pooled in his lungs. Cold. Sharp. Sharper still than the lopsided beat of his heart and the pull of Mould. The soft ring of Jet's own ears almost startled him.

For the first time in days, Mould's song was silent.

 

[Juju]

Ginny in Wonderland|| TW: Mention of animal abuse ||

While she would try to deny it later, Ginny’s heart leapt with joy when the chase began.

How could it not? The better part of the last month had been spent on the run, her every last ounce of energy used for constantly looking over her shoulder and jumping at the slightest of sounds. She had been scared, yes, but when it all came down to this pivotal turning of tides, the surge of anger took her by surprise. Why did she have to be the one in fear? Always the pretty little thing to be stalked. Now it was finally her chance to bare her pretty little fangs.

The voice was right, the chase was fun.

It didn’t matter that she lost command of the legs that sprinted after The Prey, or the hands holding her sword. The promise of revenge was intoxicatingly sweet, and it easily overtook her, at least for a short time. Only when The Prey turned to flee did she give any sort of pause. More specifically, it was the whimpering. A familiar sound with unwanted memories attached.

What she thought was a looming monster of a creature now looked nothing more than a starving mutt. The Prey became A Dog. At least, to Gin it looked that way. Once she saw it, she couldn’t get it out of her mind. It looked so tiny as it fled through the bushes, its legs so thin yet possessed by fear. It was weak, helpless and afraid.

“Wait, hold on…I… I just need to think…”

She could remember a dog, brown and black, cowering into itself against a wall. Someone grabbed him by the collar, making his tag jingle. It was engraved with a single word; Jax.

“Slow…slow down…”

Why did he have to get beaten? It was always after an argument, when her own bruises apparently weren’t enough. Was it just to hurt her more? No, it was worse. She always reminded herself that this was all for her protection, but some days she wondered if the real reason she stayed so long was that dog. How could she leave him? Was that the reason?

Gin felt sick to her stomach. She was running, but she couldn't feel her paws legs. Why were they moving? She didn’t want to move. Panic rose up with the realization that she wasn’t in control of her body.

“No, not like this! Stop! Don’t hurt Jax!” Gin cried out, though was unsure if it was a thought or a spoken word.

She had to stop, but the unseen momentum was driving her forward. Keeping up that breakneck pace had been the only thing keeping her sane these past few weeks, and now she wasn’t sure if she knew how to stop anymore. Gin had wanted revenge, but not to this poor creature.

“I can’t control my legs!” she struggled like a frenzied animal in a bear trap. Someone had told her that sometimes these animals even gnawed off their own paw to escape. A horrid image, yet one that gave her a similar desperate idea.

If she could just focus on one part of her body and put all her effort into it, maybe she could break free. Gin thought of the hilt beneath her hands, feeling the dusty grip, and one by one her fingers responded to her will. Now for the rest of her arm. If she could just lift the sword a little…and a little more.

The voice growled in her head, cackling like a hyena. Gin grit her teeth, ignoring its promises of revenge, and swung her arm back. With all her tiny might she brought it down towards a tree trunk. It embedded in the soft wood a little too easily, and before she knew it her momentum changed in a violent twist.

Something in her shoulder popped as her body was yanked back and slammed to the ground. The wind was knocked from her and her vision swam with swirling pricks of light. The smell of rotten leaves rose up around her, and her arm lay at an odd angle. None of it mattered, except for the fact that she wasn't moving. Everything was so still and quiet without the rustle of the chase.

When her vision began to settle, Ginny could see the pinpricks of light more clearly, peaking through wherever the leaves made gaps overhead. They were stars, she realized. In the city you couldn’t see the stars. Too many lights, usually to keep away that darkness spook she forgot the name of. The stars couldn't break through, turning the night sky into a field of blackness.

"Isn't that worse...? It's sad. The stars are so pretty..." Gin muttered to herself.

Now that she had stopped running, she realized just how exhausted she was. The will to keep up the chase had fizzled out, and with it that voice had also run off. Was it her own or something else? She didn't know which one was worse, but thinking about it made her head hurt so she stopped. All she wanted to do was rest here, looking up at the starry sky. No more running, no more chasing.

So she did.

seasonedcat

 

[Solirus]

Thomas
TW: Gore, Self harm​

Falling for so long felt... boring. The wind violently crashing against his body causing a constant deafening sound. His eyes were dry yet in the distance he could clearly see the sun setting. How odd, he thought, it was disappearing, but there wasn't a horizon... A voice all too familiar entered his mind once more joyfully taunting him, but this time, it spoke in a way that felt it had figured out something.

Thomas's body halted it's movement and his surroundings changed drastically. He no longer felt himself falling, he could see green flats around him and slowly people began appearing walking on the ground even if he himself was not on it. Swiftly Thomas's heart sank as he started hearing the screams of dread and fear as each person around him lost the grip of the earth and darted upwards into the infinity. Thomas tried to move but his body refused to move, even his eyes were fixed in position as the screams faded into the emptiness. "BASTARD, WHAT THE HELL DID THEY EVER DO TO YOU!" Thomas shouted with fear and rage.

The voice spoke again with joy and glee, cackling as Thomas's body started drifting towards the old lady who held for dear life. He could see his future actions, he could see himself breaking all her fingers before snapping her wrist for good measure. His body drifted slowly taking it's sweet time. "STOP IT" Thomas kept shouting as his body arrived towards the lady and his right hand slowly moved towards the ladies hand.

"Please help me" the lady spoke as tears poured out from her face, "Please I don't want to fall"

Thomas's right hand finally reached the womans pinky finger and with a swift motion the finger bent backwards, a sickening crunch which tore part of the skin and caused the lady to shriek in pain. "ONE!" The internal voice cried out in celebration and joy.

In a cry of rage Thomas managed to regain control of his left arm moving it quickly to grab his right one, but his right hand still moved by itself struggling only slightly before snapping the ladies ring finger, "TWO!" the voice cried out ever joyfully.

"DAMN IT ALL!" Thomas cried out as he struggled to pull his right hand away.

In that moment of desperation he noticed something odd. What was the lady even holding onto, it looked like something green. Was it embedded onto the ground? Was that a carrot or at least the outer part of it? Why was he so focused on that now? Thomas started hearing the voice of his friend from withing his mind, "Y'know I always love eating raw carrots, but my uncle once told me that if you bit off your own fingers that it'd be as easy as biting into a carrot... I know it's weird, I even tried asking him why he knew it but he just said a friend of his told him..."

Thomas took a deep breath before yelling as hard as he could and lunging his mouth at his right fingers. His teeth pierced through the initial tissue of his fingers causing them to bleed. Thomas's brain was actively preventing him from biting his fingers any harder and yet he could still feel his right hand moving to break the ladies fingers. In a muffled scream Thomas forced himself to bite harder, he could taste the blood filling his mouth, the splinters of bones shooting out as his fingers cracked and the horrible pain that was about to paralyze him.

In one last effort Thomas bit down as hard as he could, partially severing the fingers from his right hand as the hung out with the tissue barely holding onto them and blood squirting out.

"FFFUCK, OH GOODNESS" Thomas breathed heavily as his right hand stopped moving and the anguish awoke his whole body to his own control. He quickly moved his left arm to grab onto the woman's hand as she was quickly losing grip. "DON'T LET GO, We'll be fine."

Thomas's heavy breathing turned into tears, "We'll... be fine." The voice could no longer be felt, was it gone now, was it simply hiding, Thomas only felt anguish and relief as the weight of lady hanged on his left arm.

 

[Squad141]

"You're beginning to get the picture here, but you're still conflicted.

This *has* to be some kind of test. You don't think your nightmares would get to this level of fear unless at least part of A Guest was interfering. But now what? You have limited mobility, and you can probably get away, but do you want to? Is this is a challenge to see if you'll flee, or if you'll face A Guest? Could you even take such an entity on within a dreamscape you're (pretty) sure if your own?

You think you recognize this place. Rooms full of mannequins are all over your hideout in the mall, and if this is a dream, it was to be drawn from something. And if this is anything like the mall, you can always try and sneak away like you do if any cops try and catch you.

Looking up, a small-ish ventilation cover rests on the cieling, dust coming from out of it. You don't think you can make it to one of the other exits, since you haven't had enough time to scan the room for them. Besides, these other mannequins may be hostile as well, moving ever closer when you're not looking. A Guest is getting closer. You have to make a choice..."

Clu shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. Grabbing anything sturdy nearby, he begins to construct a makeshift stepstool to reach the vent above him, to escape everything below.

 

[BittyBobcat]

Gray
Location: Dreamscape
A sickening shiver shot down his spine and into his stomach at the pleased thrum that, foreign as it was, seemed to emenate from his own mind. More as a desperate need to shake the feeling off than a genuine attempt at escape, he tugged at his bindings. It came as no surprise that they tightened in response, but this time there was a chill to it that was missing before. Like a snake curling around its prey, the ropes slithered and tightened until all sensation beyond breathlessness was lost.

If he could've flinched when the Voice spoke, he would've. Instead, the most he could manage was closing the eye nearest to where It whispered in a wince that did nothing to deaden the electric discomfort It sent through his skull. The Words processed at a crawling pace as—with knowing patience—They made Their way into his wavering consciousness.

His first free breath did little to stir the dim embers of surprise. The tightness—It's grip on him—was evident as it was pricklingly familiar. What use was there in physical restraint when the strings on his (his?) mind made the ropes seem like mere scraps of thread in comparison? He walked as naturally as he breathed and typed as thoughtlessly as he blinked, he was a puppet. Nothing more.

Was he meant to feel angry? Surely any rational person would've, and yet all he could muster was the kind of dead-eyed fear that wrapped—soft, heavy, and intoxicated—around his head until no thought came, much less any emotion as sharp as anger. It was so easy to watch, to invite that dull pressure in the hopes that its inevitable growth would never come.

What was he writing? Someone's secrets, he was sure. Something they didn't want anyone else to know. His eyes focused on the screen, but It focused more on typing than reading and he could do little more than follow Its lead. Somewhere, in the sluggish pocket of thought that could still be called his own, he wondered if it would even be possible to read it. Writing in dreams was supposed to be gibberish—that was a fact he'd learned when It had begun to make Its presence known (Its true one, anyway)—but that same dull fear that spurred his inaction prickled at leaving it unchecked. There was a chance, always a chance, that something was not as he had known it. That even with the ability to read the deepest parts of a person, he was missing some quintessential and dangerous secret.

He struggled against that cloying fabric on Their—his—mind. He clawed, ripped, and tore until his lungs, full as they were, screamed for air to fuel his efforts. His throat, still stubbornly silent, tightened as if it were a spring about to snap. Letter by painstaking letter, he read the words on the screen until finally it clicked that They weren't written in some nonsensical dream language. They were real.

In the same instant the realization struck, his head turned.

He breathed. He breathed trembling, aching air as silken threads frantically wrapped around his throat to force that artificial slowness to him once again. He breathed with a sharp terror that he could finally call his own. He breathed in the same rhythm that he walked—sporatic, straining—toward his bound brother.

"Eli," there was no way to know if he could hear him or not, but he spoke anyway. "Eli, I'm sorry." Ingrained as it was, the phrase slipped through his mouth faster than the web could catch it. "I'll fix this, I p—" The moment his hand touched the rope, the dull fear pulled so firmly that no air would pass. His fingers scrabbled uselessly against the tight-woven rope. On their own accord, jeering voices rose. His head swam. Useless, pathetic, ridiculous. What could he do? What could one idiotic avatar ever do to help?

His eyes caught on the red light of the camera.

He began again, this time at a mere croaking whisper. "I'll fix this." He reached forward, invisible bindings stretching as far as they could allow. Every fibre of his being—no, of Its influence—screamed at him to stop. Teeth clenching, he forced his next words out, "I promise."

His hand closed around the camera and, in one swift, violent movement, slammed it into the ground.

 

[Squad141]

Not human...

Clu's creaking body, somewhat plastic, somewhat humanoid, something else, creaked slowly towards the group of unrecognizable partygoers. Clu's head full of the static that came with the strangely smooth voice greeting him, pushing in and out...

Not hu-
No.

Clu's consciousness snaps into place while his body did not, literally and metaphorically. This was it, the pivotal moment. He couldn't tell whether this was reality now or not, if he had already become some walking monstrosity.

No.

Clu has to focus on his goals, his ambitions, his life. A body is not all one needs to be human, it's also what is in their soul. Clu, in his mind, focused on two things: preferences that made Clu Clu, like his favorite color, favorite food, favorite pair of shoes, favorite designs, favorite chase story, favorite cloud formation; The other, was anything except for the party-goers that he continued to shamble towards. If fear fuels the thing mutating his body, then make sure there is none there.

Look at the wall. What material is it made of? Who's touched it? Who built it? That lamp, what's the name of the lampshade? What paint color would that lightbulb be? Is the house powered by a generator or a transformer somewhere else? What else is out there?

It was the last one that slowed him down gradually. Clu's curiosity, creativity, and ambition to be more, see more, and inspire more are what fueled him.

Those traits, those magic words, are what made him human, just like everyone else.

 

[jmann]

Watchdog
"Deonte Brookes"
Watchdog rubbed his eyes as light returned to the world. The creatures that haunted him weren’t mindless beasts of darkness, they were people stumbling around like newborn animals. They were the ones that destroyed his jacket, tore at his skin and made him bleed. Watchdog hated bleeding. It made him feel weak. He was supposed to be a symbol not a bloodied heap struggling to get out of bed without tearing his stitches. These things had took away that symbol.

The moment Watchdog got near one he tightened his grip and swung the bat straight for their skull. They had caused him so much pain; so much fear and anger. It had taken every ounce of willpower to keep up the fight but he did it anyway. Now he could finally return the favour. Watchdog wanted nothing but more than to make them understand everything he had gone through. The gashing cuts, the blackened bruises, the skin that burned in the air, and the clothes drenched in blood and sweat. He could give it al back.

But they were people. The bat lurched to a stop just above their head and dropped down to Watchdog's side. Just because they were people didn't mean they were independent. Here they stood, alone and helpless. Watchdog was finally in control. But he couldn’t do it Some part of him refused to maim something that couldn't fight back. He wanted people to feel safe in their homes, not afraid of the streets.

Watchdog raised his bat and gave the person a hard shove to knock them back. He didn’t have to kill them, and he sure as hell didn’t have to help them. Watchdog put his goggles back on looked out into the endless expanse.
“No one should have to be afraid. I won’t do it.” Watchdog called to no one, "Is this why you brought me here?"
His ribs felt broken, yet it was the utter silence of it all that put him the most on edge.

Watchdog broke into a light jog into the infinite expanse. His sides in searing pain, and every step squelched with the blood that filled his shoes. But didn’t matter if every part of him hurt, he wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t a monster.

 

[seasonedcat]

in each of your minds voices hissed in anger at your choices, each one growing smaller and smaller as your grip on yourself returned. You would not let Yourself fall into the grasps of someone else. Your wyrd belonged to you and you alone. And so with seemingly one last blink you were brought to a different world, in fact you were brought to the right world. The strong scent of bleach filled your nostrils first and then you were met with sharp pain in your head that felt as if there were knives being stabbed into ever surface of your head. Your mouth was dry, throat starchy, and your bodies felt akin to numbness as if you had slept on every limb and your torso wrong and the blood had just started flowing again. The last thing that returned to you was your ears as the sound of voices began to process again as you slowly woke up,

"-esus Christ Phoebe you could have warned me!" a small voice cried out in fear as a sigh followed it. Another voice spoke, a woman's which was smooth like honey, "I would rather not have to clean up another DIG incident Forget, or rather you clean it up." she pointed out as the other seemed to agree as they were silent for a moment before adding, "still you scared the skin off of me..." the voices continued speaking as you came too, if you managed to pry your stiff eyes open you would be faced with either the ceiling or the underside of a steel bedframe. The room you were in was small, not much room between the two single bunkbeds on either side of the room, but was rather long, managing to fit 2 beds on each side, the last placed horizontal on the end. A chair sat between you and the seemingly only door to the room, where a woman sat with a pistol that held a silencer on it. A man sat in the middle of the room with a mop(in shit condition, some duct tape in places) conversed with her.

you could also notice on the left side of the room there sat a woman's dead body, two bullet holes in her head as she lay on her bed, dirt staining the white sheets along with her blood. Her restraints were partially removed and you could notice that your own were in perfect condition. There was also another bed with broken restraints that held some questionable stains. The light that hung in the center of the room buzzed lightly as the strange scene before you came into focus. You were not the only one in this strange place, you could probably recognize some of them from the events at the park. So where exactly were you?

Spoiler: shitty map reference

Juju jmann Solirus Tapfic BittyBobcat Squad141 ScatheAriiasqDrayceon

 

[Tapfic]

Lilac
Unknown Room

Lilac woke gently, eyes fluttering open with the grace of a sleeping princess; the taste of true love's kiss on pale lips.
Except the taste was her own blood, and if the sting was anything to go by she had split her lip. When had she? Had she been in a fight? She didn't remember, not with the fog of chemical induced sleep and the adrenaline of dying in a dream filling her head.

Memories flooded quickly, filling in the gaps as her groggy conscious mind supplied them.

Oh.
She must have bitten her lip when she fell. Wonderful.

"-esus Christ Phoebe you could have warned me!" A voice registered , as though a thick fog had lifted around her; freeing her senses from the confines of sleep.
Lilac took in every detail of the dark room she lay in, as what she assumed to be her captor spoke.
The room was dingy and ill maintained. If they were in the city, it was safe to bet it was the outer ring. The room smelled like dust , stale water, and blood. Her nose wrinkled at the final observation, but the girl did her best to breathe through her teeth as a sick feeling began to pool in her stomach.

She couldn't see much through the long tangle of lavender hair, but she could tell she was on the top bunk of a bed- a few others lying in their places across the thin room. Only two stood unrestrained. One had a sad mop. One had a gun. Obviously she would need to kill that one first.

"I would rather not have to clean up another DIG incident Forget, or rather you clean it up."

Carefully, the girl tested her restraints- as one might have expected, they didn't budge.
One brow twitched, and she bit her busted lip until blood began to trickle down her chin.
Annoying.

"still you scared the skin off of me..."

" Shut up. " Ly spoke, voice deep and rough as it stung with dehydration; but steady and cold. Anger being left entirely to the narrow of her eyes.
She didn't expect them to follow the command, of course; but she didn't care much either way. Best case scenario would be a monologue explaining what the fuck they thought they were doing now that they knew she had woken up.

Worst case scenario , they killed her- though she found that unlikely enough.
Her eyes wandered to the stained bed across the room, where the restraints had been torn through. A feat of strength no human here would naturally achieve. Though, she supposed she wasn't exactly human anymore.

Lilac moved her wrists against their restraints once more, tasting the blood on her lips as she pushed against the material.
The faintest of tears met her ears before nausea from the pool below overtook her, sapping her energy like a starving leach. With a strained breath, her hands fell back in place. Grey eyes turned to glare at the two below.

Ly could answer a great deal of her own questions with just some observational awareness. An entity related nightmare. Torn restraints and a gun. There wasn't much it could have been.

The restraints held her, and by extension the others encase they fell to the entities in their sleep, and the smell of blood flooding the room was what left of those who had.
Some wanna-be heroes cleaning up the streets, starting with the weakest form of an avatar? Then why they didn't just shoot them all then instead of waiting for them to turn?
She closed her eyes in thought, an expression of peaceful contemplation overtaking the icy glare.

To know she had felt a pull to that location- to know where she and the others would go, they would need an almost-avatar of their own.
They were in the same grave, or they had someone who was.

That, or this was in itself the work of an avatar, feeding on the fear of being restrained and picked off one by one. Acting out some version of humanity to give their scenario a story.

Either way, the solution to both was quite similar.

" Where's my axe."

seasonedcat

 

[BittyBobcat]

Gray
Location: Ominous bed room
If Gray were lucky, it would've been his natural senses that woke him up first so that he might have a handful of preciously silent seconds before all hell broke loose in the form of a swarm of thoughts circling his brain. Unfortunately, this was not the case, and instead the waking world cheerfully met him like a truck at carrying capacity plowing full-speed into his groggy mind.

He groaned and slammed his eyes shut oncemore. His hand lifted to—

No. His hand did not lift. It pulled against some tight binding around his wrist.

Gray would be lying if that didn't send one extra shot of adrenaline through his already adrenaline-drenched system, but he forced a slow, shaky, stinging breath anyway. At this rate, he was too tired to deal with the implications that had (which was ironic considering he might still be dreaming). Still, he reluctantly forced his eyes open oncemore and found himself staring at a blank ceiling.

"-esus Christ Phoebe you could have warned me!" The sound filtered through the haze of drugs and foreign thoughts less clearly than he would've liked. He idly listened to the half conversation, spending far too long to process each sleep-muffled noise into a word. At some point, he gave up and simply allowed someone else's solution to slip into his overcrowded head (which also happened to be lingering disconcertingly long on murder).

"Shut up."

"Please don't, actually." Something told him that wasn't how he was supposed to form sentences. Gray couldn't find it in himself to care—the croaked words were hard enough to get out without worrying about proper grammar. He paused and, for as little good as it did him, swallowed what miniscule amount of spit he still had in his mouth before speaking up again. "Where are we?" The chances of them answering it seemed slim to none, but what was the worst they could do? Kill him? Why should that matter?

An involuntary flinch against his restraints answered the question for him. That one wasn't his, was it? Or perhaps the reaction wasn't. He couldn't tell what was hurting his head more, the aftereffects of the gas or the continuous attempts to disentangle his thoughts from the knot of everyone else's. Either way, the solution was quite similar.

No. No it was not. Where did that come from?

Ignoring some mention of an axe that he hadn't the capacity to listen to, he forced his head to turn and face the only two unbound people in the room, neck cracking loudly in the process. "Are you the ones plotting the murders?" The new position forced his already strained voice into a whisper. "This seems really... unnecessary if so." Whether through his own thoughts or another's, the potential risk of insulting his captors murder techniques hit him only after the words had left his mouth. What was this? Confidence? Shit, he needed to fix that. "Not that this isn't a great murder plan. Um. Terrific. Doing good so far. So good, in fact, that maybe you should leave us alive for longer. Just so you can... um, bask in your competent murder...ness. Is that a word? I've been talking too long. I should stop. I'll— I'm shutting up now."

Okay. Not confidence. Adrenaline. So much adrenaline that he might as well be on his fifteenth cup of black coffee with a triple dose of caffiene pills dissolved into it for how fast his heart was beating. In fact, now that he thought about it, probably the collective amount of adrenaline of everyone in that room, which was quite a lot if the sheer volume of thoughts racing through his head was anything to go by.

"Sorry, this sounds insane, doesn't it? I swear I'm not, I just... I think I'm high."

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Jet woke to the distinct feeling of his own arrhythmic heart.

It was almost familiar were it not for the thick stench of blood in the air and the lukewarm metal clamped around his wrists. If his heart wasn't attempting to prevent his lungs from working in that moment, he would have sighed. As it was, he simply took stock of the world around him, noting the bare walls and the cot-like bunk beds. Jet clicked his tongue against his teeth, wincing at the odd taste in his mouth and the absolute lack of anything resembling proper hydration.

The rambling started.

It overlapped strangely with the monotone he assumed was coming from the other end of the room, but frankly, he didn't have the presence of mind to catch all of it, too busy rocking his shoulders back and forth in an attempt to wiggle his bottle of bisoprolol out of his breast pocket. It was an odd feeling—just about every inch of him was prickling in a manner much like that of rain on sheet metal—but it didn't hurt.

It was working... sort of, though Jet had no idea what he was going to do when it ended up falling on his face. He supposed he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, his only concern was stabilizing his heart before he was sent into cardiac arrest or some such nonsense.

His attention drifted as he worked, though he didn't dare turn his head and be unprepared to catch the pill bottle.

Jet tuned into the rambling—voice weak and scratchy—tired-sounding—anxious, almost—with words spilling from their mouth in a long exhalation of mixed messages. A reminder of their situation had Jet's heart skipping a few beats and sending him coughing from his own diaphragm's incompetence.

He stomped down on the feeling. On the buzz in his veins. He did not panic. He can't panic.

A breath. Long and slow. The buzz faded to background noise.

"Darling, please don't compliment our captors on their perhaps-murder-perhaps-not technique." The words left his mouth in a soft, dry hiss, scraping against his throat in all of the most uncomfortable ways. Was he even able to get a pill down like this? "Because as much as I enjoyed—sarcasm—the non-consensual dose of unrestful sleep, I do quite—"

The pill bottle came loose with a rattle and Jet aborted his last words to catch it between his teeth.

It was a barely sort of thing, as he'd caught on to the release tab at the side, but it was enough for him to brace the bottle against his collar and pop the bottle open. He spilled a few pills in the process, but that was hardly his concern.

He almost regretted dry swallowing it when it left an abraded wake. Almost.

 

[Juju]

With neither grace nor dignity, Ginny awoke with a start. She flinched, rattling her bed and only serving to spook her further. Only seconds back in reality and already her senses were bombarded with this strange new world.

The only mercy was that her mind was too slow to comprehend it all at once. Yet while her thoughts lagged, her heart was already racing, already bolting for that door. It was the first thing she checked for, an unnatural instinct developed after a month of being prey. Alarmed by this, she checked the window next, but instead of predatory eyes looking in she found only barricades of wood and nails. Good. Good enough.

Where was she? It was disorentating to figure out what way was up and down. A sheet of metal was above, stinking from the matress resting on it (or was it below her?). At first she thought maybe the metal was to blame for the thick scent of copper in the air, but her groggy mind was just trying to be optimistic. Ginny knew better, and she knew what it was too.

Probably the worst thing about it was how her stomach churned with hunger. Then she felt like vomiting. Ginny whipped her head to the side and locked eyes with the greying gaze of a woman she had seen at the park. She had been lively, warm. Now blood pooled around her stiff body, leaking from a fresh bullet wound.

Ginny choked on a gasp, aware of her own blood rushing to her ears, melting down to each limb and making them shake with adrenaline, screaming at her to run. Leave, she had to leave. Others were talking but she didn’t listen to them. She couldn’t focus on any of the words. It sounded like bees buzzing. The smell of blood was everywhere.

How long had she been out for? How long had she given that Thing time to catch up with her? Was it waiting outside already, planning out which of these people to kill first before saving her for last?

No matter which way she put it, she had been stupid. After staying ahead of the fangs for so long it finally all came crashing down by one idiodic move. That’s all it took. The wolf only needs enough luck to find you once, as the saying goes.

The lights were too bright, the room was too small. She tried to sit up but her wrists were bound, forcing her to lay down with her neck exposed. Claws and teeth could sink into her belly and rip it out and she couldn’t do a thing about it. These people in the room had no idea about what she was sure was out there. It always was.

Ginny glanced at the door again, so close yet just out of reach. Gritting her teeth, she screwed her eyes shut and tried to think of a way out of this one. Would they shoot her if they thought she was asleep? Were they doing it at random, to eat the fear like that Thing liked to do?

 

[jmann]

Deonte Brookes
"Watchdog"

Deonte came to, the world swirling around him. Everything hurt but he knew he was awake. Where he was was an entirely different question. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and finally noticed his restraints. He tugged against them to no effect. His body was still too sore and exhausted to do anything.

Two people could be seen between the bunk beds housing those people from the park. One woman sat with a gun guarding the exit. Her posture was poised and merciless. The standing man with a mop appeared subservient, saying something about a grievance but trailed off at the end. If they were to fight, Deonte would need to strike down the woman first.
The stench of blood hit him before the sight of it. His work rarely required him to draw blood, so for Deonte blood always reminded him of the times he failed to save somebody. Just like then, somebody had died. And Deonte was too slow to stop it. The knowledge that he might need to fight was replaced by the want to. The woman had shot someone in their sleep. Why? A power display? It was hard to imagine it, though he’d seen worse done for less in some of the outer suburbs; the types of places he tried hard not to go and never as Watchdog.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his heart began to pound. He was still in costume, save for his bat and goggles. His mask had been removed in the struggle, he hoped these people had taken it as well.

People were talking. In a situation like this Deonte would rather listen to the captors, but these people most likely hadn’t been held prisoner before. Deonte knew he needed to escape before they brought out any tools. If he was going to escape he needed to get out of these bonds. There was no chance at snapping them, but he had long since learned there was more than one way to escape being tied down. A trick he learned while captured by a gang known as the Pistols could come in useful.


Deonte began to thrash against his restraints, squirming his body even when his joints shot with pain. Some might have thought he was having a seizure, some would see him as being uncooperative. In reality Deonte was pressing his thumb under his knee, and raising all of his body weight into one powerful jerk. His thumb popped from its socket and Deonte held back a yelp. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

Slowly, with great care despite fiery lightning shooting up his arm every second, Deonte pulled his hand through the restraint. There was nothing else he could do for now. But one hand was a massive improvement. That woman was going to pay.

 

[seasonedcat]

"shut up"
"Shit-" Pheobe breathed out, glancing around as each people awoke. Glancing at the clock, she swore again under her breath at her mistake; she quickly turned to Forget, "Go get Night, and be quick about it!" she shot at him, her voice firm. Forget jumped at the words, clearly spooked by the people as he quickly scrambled away; just as he was about to leave, Pheobe spoke, "And get rid of this before some of them hurl." she added with a nod to the body. Forget quickly scrambled back, grabbing the body and slowly dragging it out of the room. Pheobe watched him silently, waiting until the door shut before she turned back to the group.

Pheobe sighed as she leaned her body against the cold wall and slowly looked over each person that came to, "So seven of you made it, huh," she glanced at Clu, who hadn't quite woken up yet; her lips grew thin, she shook her head, "I think you are misunderstanding the situation you all are in, let me give you a hint. Did you enjoy your little dream? You don't think you were the only one, do you?" she glanced around the room. The silence was all the confirmation she needed; she already knew the answers.

"You aren't the special little snowflake anymore; each of you is the same. I bet you can guess what I am talking about; you've been hearing that voice for a while now. No matter how hard you close your eyes or plug your ears, it isn't going away." pushing herself off the wall, she walked closer to Gray and Jet, "As much as I enjoy the compliment, murder implies that those two were humans. So sadly, I can not claim the complement of a murder."

Absentmindedly, she twirled some of her hair as she glanced down at Jet; she swiftly snatched up the pill bottle, looking at the bottle for a moment, she rolled her eyes, "last time I trusted Forget to take care of a job," she muttered as she pocketed the pill bottle, snatching up the dropped pills as well as she did so before depositing it in her pocket, "wouldn't want anyone getting hurt now would we?" she spoke as she turned from Jet and walked towards the now struggling Deonte, placing the gun gently against his temple as she swiftly moved to his hand, putting it back into the restraints. She moved her hand up to a portion of his revealed skin; a sudden strange feeling entered Deonte as he felt like a liquid was pushing against his blood, forcing itself into his heart. His thumb popped back into place on its own, the pain disappearing instantly. Removing her grip, she returned to her seat against the wall, "No need to get hasty, 'Watchdog,' there are many times to fight, but now is not one of them." she returned to her spot against the wall before continuing.

"So, you have so many questions I can practically hear them already, so shoot. We got a few minutes before Night comes."
Juju jmann Solirus BittyBobcat Squad141 ScatheAriiasqDrayceon Tapfic

 

[Juju]

Ginny

Interaction: seasonedcat || Mention: jmann ScatheAriiasqDrayceon​

There was too much of everything. Blood permeated the air, choking her lungs, while above the ancient lights buzzed. Ginny heard pills scatter, heartbeats pick up, but the one thing that caught her attention above everything else was a sickening pop and a snap.
Ginny opened her eyes, brows furrowed. The sound had come from the bed nearest to her, but she didn’t smell any new blood. Once again, she remembered the same thing she thought of in her dream. How animals, when trapped, will sometimes gnaw their own limbs off in desperation.

She held her breath, staying corpse still as she waited for this desperate person’s next move. Unfortunately for them, their jailor also took notice. Ginny tensed up, listening as the woman stepped over towards her neighbor and did something. Like before, Ginny could hear the movement of bone, only this time it was softer. Like a shoulder being popped back into place.

The dream? It was all coming back to Ginny now. The woods, the cabin, and the emaciated predator. Originally, she had thought it was The Monster, but it was different. If this was about the growling voice, and those two killed were not ‘human’ then that meant…

No, she didn’t want to think of it. Her sanity was already hanging by a threat. If she thought too much about it she would go mad.

“How long…” Ginny said, her voice hoarse and quiet, as if she was afraid to speak loudly, “How long have we been dreaming?”

How long had that Thing had the chance to catch up?

 

[BittyBobcat]

Gray
Location: Ominous bed room

He did not panic. He can't panic.

Except he did, and no amount of necessity would halt the terror-quickened march of his heart, or the adrenaline it carried. The thick stench of blood hung throughout the room. The Thing had been given time to catch up. His mask... wait. No, he didn't have time to question every thought that ran uninvited through his head. He processed too slow and their brains rushed too fast, by the time he had sorted one concept he'd be met with five others.

He forced a slow, quiet, breath so deep and scratching that it left an abraded wake.

Assess. Compose. Enact. ACE. It was a mnemonic that had been drilled into his head during university, before he had been allowed to so much as touch a computer with internet access. His cheesy professor always reminded his class of it by asking if they were going to ACE their exams. It was his voice that came to mind whenever Gray thought on it. Assess the situation, compose a plan (and yourself if you had to), then enact it. All in all, it was rather simple. Most people followed some version of it without even realizing it. But—and this is where Mr. Cooper would get a certain gleam in his eye, like he was sharing a secret—it wasn't taught just to solidify something they already knew. It was taught because people tended to throw rationality out the window when confronting horrors beyond their comprehension, and, in times like that, often the most basic thought processes needed a structure to build on.

With all that (and more) in mind, Gray reluctantly stopped trying to stem the relentless flow of others' thoughts. He couldn't see much from where he was, after all. They provided better viewpoints of the situation.

Gun. Body. Rattle. Pop. Two people walking free. The woman—the one he would need to strike down first—spoke, and he let every separate wave of confusion, fear, and realization wash over him. Mannequins. Dreams. She wasn't lying. They had all been dreaming, and, if the content wasn't similar enough, the emotions circling around them were... the broad strokes, anyway. Was it the woman (Phoebe?), the others, or himself that finally hit the conclusion that they—no, the dead—were Avatars? It felt wrong to call everyone here that. He couldn't put his finger on why.

The rattle of a pill bottle being snatched pulled his attention back from their thoughts. He opened his mouth to ask a question as Phoebe's speech seemed to be coming to an end, but, instead, the words that came blurting out of his mouth were, "If you take those, your heart will fail."

So much for just letting thoughts flow through.

He bit his tongue and waited until Phoebe prompted them for questions to release it again. Incidental copy-catting be damned, he wasn't going to pass up the chance to figure out what was going on.

He began with a hoarse, quiet, "How long—" but cut himself off the moment he registered another voice speaking in unison with his own. With how crystal clear the following thought ran through his head, he almost mistook it for what the other person actually said, but he managed to catch her last word and pieced together the rest.

Assuming the others would come up with the broader questions, Gray found himself focusing most on what strangely might've been the most imminent problem. How long had that Thing had the chance to catch up? That was one of a small handful of thoughts he could nearly guarantee weren't his own, and it somehow managed to set his heart stuttering more than being kidnapped. He had to figure out what the Thing was.

To prevent more blabbering, he silently went over how exactly he might phrase his next question, picturing how he would shape the words until he was confident—well, not quite that—until he was hopeful that there wouldn't be another slip up. It might make him seem a bit stupid to ask since there most definitely was something after each of them, even if it was in a different context, but it could spark a few thoughts from whoever had the thought in the first place.

Finally satisfied with his brief plan, he spoke with a slow, careful pace akin to tiptoeing through a minefield. "Is there someone, or someThing, after us?"