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chimerahyperfix · 8 months ago

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CW: Graphic depictions of violence, lots of Death and Gore, Psychological horror for like 3 lines, mentions of drowning. Please read the tags and take caution. This one's more than a little visceral.

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The King is here.

You walk through crowded halls of rushing Housemaidens getting into defensive positioning. It's like fighting a wave in the ocean, hard to push through the crowd. You make do anyways, curling through paths you normally wouldn't take.

It's a big deal to everyone but you, at this point. This is the big event, the big fight; to you it's simply where time loops back. Just another day, y'know? You've done it over and over, and you'll probably keep doing it anyways.

It's odd, pushing through the crowd. Everyone is going one way and you are going another. Rushing versus strolling. Your hands are in the pockets of your lab coat. You're practically whistling, for crab's sake!

You simply cannot be bothered this loop. It's a failure from the start: you crabbed up making the bomb, which means you're crabbed from the very beginning. You climbed up the Favor Tree and wedged yourself between the braches for a few hours to pass the time, because looping back would be too much of an inconvenience, and you could just wait until the tears started spawning in the house to go back. The birds had a good time at least, one starting to craft a nest next to you.

You ghosted throughout the day, and now its go time. Everyone else is prepared and ready to fight for time itself, and here you are just. Walking. Realistically you're searching for a tear to stop it all before it starts, but luck isn't on your side this loop.

You can hear it, hear it-- the horrors. All the screams of those unfortunate enough to cross the King's path and fight back. It would be easier, for them, to just bow back and let themselves be frozen-- but no one wants to be frozen, because that's having choice itself stolen from you, a cage of ice to lock yourself in forever. It's just as bad as being dead. Stagnant and eternally screaming.

So they march to their deaths.

The King does not take kindly to the Housemaidens fighting back. Some loops, the House isn't prepared for his attack. Those loops are the nice ones, the less gorey ones. Less dead and more frozen bodies, because no one was prepared to brawl with the monster. He can just... swoop on through and take the House without more than a handful of casualties. This loop is one of the bad ones, because your fellow housemaidens were all prepared. You always think your prepared, too, to see the outcome, but you never truly are.

You turn into the main hall, and freeze still.

No matter how many loops you go through, the carnage always gets to you. There's a nasty, overpowering smell of iron in the air and big dark stains painting the walls, the floors and the roof. Bits and pieces of mashed guts and viscera. There were people in this hallway, once.

Not anymore.

It makes you sick to your stomach like every other time. Just the thought of it. There were people here and now there's only parts of them left. Just ten minutes ago or so, there were people here.

There were people here.

The gore goes in a trail down the hall. Paints practically everything-- including frozen people, if you look down the hall. All frozen with shock and absolute horror on their faces. You recognize some of them.

You try not to think about it.

You push on. Try to ignore the way the blood seeps into your shoes very fabric so they become damp. Try to ignore the fact you're trailing someone's very life behind you now with bloody shoe prints.

There are still no tears.

Plan B, then. The King himself.

You hate going against the King. It always ends terribly with you in agony. But that's the only option left right now, so you chase him down on his little path carved from the blood of the innocent. You find him quickly, too- just down the hall.

He stops before you can get too close. The smell in the air is overpowering, the sharp tang of blood and the burning sensation of the sugar.

"Burning one." He says to you. You're not sure where he pulled that one from: the nickname was something different at some point, but you've long forgotten what it was. Maybe it's the smell of burnt, rotting sugar or maybe it's the potions that burnt your throat. You're not sure anymore.

He just... stands there. Turns around and looks at you. You can feel the dead expression you're pulling as you stare back. Blood glints on his armor, shining and the worst sight in the world and all the same kinda beautiful in its own way? Like the lightless gore is the night sky itself, sparkling with little dots. Makes you feel sick just thinking that.

"How have you done it?" He asks. He asks it every time the two of you face off, the same five words. How. A inquiry. Something you have done, you shouldn't have, and he knows it.

You... think you've gotten it, now. Your hypothesis: How you wished. It's not something you were supposed to do. You did something different something WRONG, and it did something to time itself, tearing a hole in the fabric of space. It's wrong. It's wrong, and you know it and so does the King.

He stares in your direction. You think? Despite his hands, blood-stained as they are, not being infront of his face, the mop of hair is still in the way. You can feel the glare still. Enraged. Daggers in your side.

"I don't know." It's the truth.

"You don't know?"

"I don't remember."

The King goes silent. It's odd, having an actual conversation with him. Even if it was a tiny exchange, it still throws you off. He's willing to talk, even if just a question. He's never really talked to you-- or anyone, to your knowledge-- before.

"Ouuuuhhhh... of course you don't." He wails. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard to you. "You shouldn't have been able too, oohhh... not at all..."

He raises a fist up. It sparkles like the night sky, dark dripping from between his fingers. There's still someone's remains painted on them. Preemptively you brace and throw your arms up in an attempt to block.

It's a different thing that hits you. A new attack. A giant open palm slams into your chest, and you go flying backwards into the wall. The world turns to slow motion as something in you SNAPS. Crunches. Your bones shatter and explode with the force and speed, shooting little shards of agony everywhere.

It hurts. It HURTS. Pain rips through your entire body, and you realise you've started to scream when your chest begins to hurt. Blood splatters onto your glasses, blotting out your vision.

You look up at the King. How'd you get on the floor? How are you breathing, with no lungs? You can see fragments of bone stuck between the metal of his armor.

"Let this be a lesson to you, Burning one."

Metal clinks, and your vision swims-- dots in the corners, figures blur. Blood drips down into your left eye and paints half of your vision a dark shade. Nothing but pain.

Make it stop. Make it stop, make it stop make it stop-- it hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts.

You

Simply stop thinking. Just for a moment.

So your brain can catch up! Yeah, sure. That's a good enough excuse.

Just. Pain. You are pain incarnate, and that's all you will be until you die slowly and loop back.

You

Blink,, and

The King. Is gone. You can hear him leaving, loud stomping footsteps dissapearing down a bloodstained trail, and you just stare.

How lucky, HOW LUCKY of you to be left alive this time. Like this isn't a fate worse than death. You gasp for air, and realise all you have left is blood filling your lungs.

It hurts. You want it to end, now. It's hard to see, over the blood and spots dancing across your eyes, but you see them; tears, floating around you. A quick out. You reach out, and the pain in you flares alive, ripping and tearing you apart. You feel like your flesh is going to peel off.

Your fingers brush into one of the tears, and you sob as the ice rolls down your arm and consumes you. It feels a hundred times better than what you were feeling before.

You freeze in time-- and luckily theres no nightmare you have to endure, you just wake back up at your desk. You spend a good chunk of the morning curled up in the bathroom getting sick, because, wow! That's the worst one yet! It's curled into your very being, the feeling of breaking your bones like rock candy, the feeling of drowning in blood.

You just... have to do it better this time, or... something. Hope is fading away into background static. You can't... do this anymore. It hurts too much. You want it to stop. Please make it stop.

#isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #claude looping au #isat claude #in craft and cages #cw death #cw gore #cw mentions of drowning #cw graphic violence #---#ok. wow. this ones really hard to read.#like ok genuinely im worried this might trigger someone so i slammed every tag i could think of on #now im a horror artist. this is my wheelhouse. i do the gore n shit right #please PLEAAAASE be careful. if this one sounds upsetting to u PLEASE sit it out #genuinely very worried abt this one #but also proud as fuck because this is Pretty Good to me and also prib over 1000 words lol #just. dont push y'alls selves for funny au content plz #im very anxious abt making ppl upset haha #i get isat does horror and stuff but this is pretty graphic #please let me know if i need to tag anything else. very antsy here

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 10 months ago

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A Day At The Lake

Gator Tillman x Kirby Rivers (OC)

♤ Summary: Gator met Kirby through his old weed guy when he left town and left Kirby as someone Gator could go to for pot. He started hanging out there more, after the inital shock that is Kirby. Gator can't seem to stay away from them, and doesn't really want too. Kirby suggests a day at the lake so Gator can relax for a bit.

♤ Warnings: canon x oc pairing, nonbinary/trans oc, oc uses he/they pronouns, slight angst, brief mentions of drug use.

♤ a/n: i wrote this for @jozstankovich because they've been single handedly encouraging my writing of OC stories and because they've fallen in love with my little goblin boy and i couldn't be more flattered! Hope you guys enjoy it too! Reblogs and comments are cherished and loved! 💖🍒💖

♤♤♤♤

"Hey do they ever- ooow." Kirby rubs the back of his head, glaring at the open hood they'd smacked it on before moving their eyes to Gator.

"They ever let you have days off? You don't work like... seven days a week or some shit do you?" He asks, watching Gator's feet swing genlty under the tailgate he's sitting on. He scoffs, rolls his eyes, adjusts the backwards cap he's wearing.

"Course I get days off. Why?" His eyes narrow in suspicion. Kirby shrugs, whipes some grease on his overalls.

"Just wonderin. When's your next one? And doooo you have plans?" Kirby draws, points at Gator and waits, stares. Gator snorts, shakes his head, rubs at the back of his neck.

"Tuesday. I'm off Tuesday. Why you wonderin?" He asks, his lip tugged between his teeth.

"I just had an idea. Thought maybe you'd wanna come to the lake with me? Just have a chill day. Away from all'a," he gestures to Gator, their hand motioning to all of him,

"This. Just get away." Kirby shrugs, ducks back under the hood and starts tinkering again, tightening all the bolts he'd loosened.

"You wanna go to the lake? You fish or somethin?" Gator asks, Kirby hears him jump down from his little perch on the tailgate. Kirby snorts.

"Absolutely not. Too slimey. I just swim man. Swimmings nice. Keeps you cool. Sometimes there's turtles. You don't swim?" Kirby asks, talking and talking, rapid fire, like always.

"Sometimes. I guess." Gator's voice sound farther away now, Kirby lowers their head, looking under his arm to see Gator looking through the crowded fridge in the garage.

"Beer's on the left behind the ketchup." Kirby comments, looks back to his work, slips his wrench onto the last bolt and gives it a few tugs til it's nice and snug. He ducks lower than he needs too when he stands, making sure not to smack their head again. He shuts the hood and turns to find Gator holding out a cherry coke.

"Thanks." They nod, pop it open and take a swig as Gator does the same to his beer.

"What time?" Gator asks, not looking at Kirby, his eyes fixed on something over their shoulder. Kirby turns to look, doesn't see anything, shakes his head and turns back.

"I dunno. Let's saaaaayyyy...eight? Eight thirty?" Kirby shrugs, takes anothrr drink.

"That early? It's my day off man." Gator scoffs. Kirby rolls his eyes, wipes their free hand on their overalls again, trying and failing, to get the grease from between his fingers.

"Oh boo hoo. You don't have to come. I just thought I'd offer." He walks to the garage, tucks his tools into their places.

"I will be bringing some choice product with me. If that... influences your decision at all." Kirby looks over their shoulder, eyebrows high on his head as he watches Gator kick at the ground.

"I didn't say I wouldn't come. S'just early." He mutters, his boot twisting in the small divot his kicking had made.

"Oh. Well cool. Let's call it nine then. Let sleeping beauty get his rest huh?" Kirby teases, walks past Gator and kicks at his foot.

"Stop that. I'm trying to run a respectable business here." Kirby admonishes, Gator kicks back, Kirby dodges him, quick on their feet. Gator laughs when he nearly spills his cherry coke, his feet immediately tangling together after the smooth dodge.

"Alright. Nine it is." Gator bites his lip.

"You don't swim while you're high do you?" He asks, rubbing at the back of his neck again, eyes landing on Kirby briefly and then darting away again.

"Awww. You worried about me Deputy?" Kirby tilts their head, bats his eyelashes, his hand on his chest over his heart. Gator flushes a nice shade of pink and snorts, sniffs, wipes at his nose with an eyeroll.

"No. Just seein if I need to be prepared to carry your body out of a lake when you drown is all." Gator says, easy, still doesn't look at Kirby. He hasn't lately. Been looking at him. Won't meet their eye after he'd showed back up.

Ignoring Kirby for weeks. Until Kirby figured it out. Made a peace offering. And it worked. He understood now. He got it. Why Gator had run away. Kirby's beautiful , straight, deputy friend, was having some not so straight feelings about him. Or thoughts. Maybe thoughts and feelings. Kirby didn't mind either way. But he wouldn't push.

He'd just hidden a small stash of his best stuff in Gator's truck. Shot him a text. And hoped for the best. The best was Gator showing up a week later. Needing more weed, and not meeting Kirby's eyes. But he was here. And still joking around like they used too. So Kirby shoved down his own feelings, gave Gator cheap prices on good weed, and invited him to the fucking lake.

Kirby shakes his head, pulling themself from their thoughts.

"Won't be my body in the lake man. I'm a great swimmer." He says, immediately almost tripping over a stray peice of junk on the ground.

"Shit. That came outta nowhere." He huffs, finishes his cherry coke and tosses his can up into the air, aiming for the old, rusty, fifty gallon drum he uses as a trashcan. The can hits the rim and flips off to the side. Kirby huffs. Gator laughs.

"Right." He says, voice flat as he picks the can up, steps back a few feet and tosses it toward the can, it goes directly in, not even close to hitting the sides.

"Show off." Kirby mutters, glaring at him. Gator laughs again, loud and bright. And Kirby missed that. Shakes his head and pushes the thought away.

"So nine. Tuesday." Gator says, pointing at Kirby.

"Nine. Tuesday." Kirby echoes, pointing back. Smiling a goofy smile when Gator actually meets their eyes. Gator smiles back before waving and heading down the drive to his truck. Kirby waves after him, feeling giddy and light. And half not believing that Gator said yes.

They do a little happy spin, nearly tripping again as they do, hands slamming down on the tailgate Gator had been sat on. Kirby shakes his head at himself, rubs his hand over his hair, and rushes inside to take a shower.

They fall into bed that night nearly vibrating, knowing they wouldn't sleep well. Too excited for a silly little trip to the lake.

~°~

The trip goes surprisingly well. Gator shows up at eight thirty despite his previous protests. Kirby drives them down. They grab breakfast on the way and by the time they reach the lake the sun is high and warm.

Both of them run for the lake immediately, tossing their clothes this way that, ending up in just their swim trucks, Gator laughing as Kirby shrieks and jumps of the small dock into the water.

Kirby's not sure how long they swim for. Just knows the sun moves across the sky as they talk and splash and shove each other underwater. They eat lunch. Sit in the back of Kirby's old van, their nest of pillows and blankets warm in the summer heat, but it's shady, and far enough from the water that the bugs leave them alone.

They're sitting on the dock when Gator asks,

"You really don't fish?"

Kirby makes a gagging sound, pretends to puke over the side of the dock.

"No way. Not for me." They shake their head. Gator nods. Seems to think about something.

"You don't hunt either I take it." He asks, one eye srunched against the sun as he looks at Kirby, his softened hair falling into his face. Kirby's scrunched face is all the answer he needs, he laughs, holds his hands up in surrender.

"Alright. Alright. Just askin." He sounds judgmental, but he's smiling soflty, looking into his lap.

"Do you like hunting?" Kirby asks, head tilting.

"I'm good at it." Gator says immediately. Kirby smiles, bumps their shoulder into Gator's, his skin, warm from the sun, still makes Kirby shiver.

"Yeah but do you like it?" Kirby repeats, kicking his feet in the water, he watches Gator's reflection shimmer and then looks at him. He's frowning, like he's thinking, Kirby waits.

"I- I dunno. I just..." he trails off. Huffs. Tries again.

"It makes me feel... accomplished. Cuz I'm good at it. It's something I do well." He says slowly, like he's feeling it out.

"But it's not just that. Hunting deer's the best. Because we use it. As much of it as we can. The meat. The hide. The bones. Ya know? I have this summer sausage recipe that just, fuck, it melts in your mouth." Gator looks at him, face all smooshed up and scrunched, party from the sun, partly like he thinks Kirby's gonna judge him.

"You make the summer sausage yourself?" Is all Kirby says, genuinely curious. And they know it's the right thing to say when Gator perks up, nods excitedly.

"Yeah. And we pair it with this cheese Karen makes and it's like, god, I can't even describe it. You gotta try it though." Gator bumps Kirby's shoulder with his.

"I don't have to like... be there for the hunting? Or the cleaning? Or any other terrifyingly gross animal killing ritual that you get up to before the food is made?" Kirby asks, their face all scrunched up now too, seconds away from adding a gag but Gator laughs again, really laughs, his head thrown back, the sweet sound rolling out over the water like the ripples their feet are making.

"It's not a ritual. We're not sacrificing animals." Gator scoffs once he's stopped laughing

"Aren't you though?" Kirby asks, voice low and disbelieving. Gator rolls his eyes.

"Seriously though. I'd love to try it." Kirby says, bumping their shoulders again as he sways side to side.

"Okay. I'll bring you some next time I come over." Gator says, his voice small, he sounds almost shy.

"Looking forward to some of your famous sacrificial sausage." Kirby nods, Gator growls at him playfully and shoves him into the water. Kirby comes up screeching, Gator throws himself in after them, both of them sinking under together, the water cool on their sun kissed skin.

~°~

Gator walks him to his door. He didn't have too, Kirby had parked next to his truck so he could just, head home. But he walks them up the drive, lingers on the doorstep. Kirby's chest is tight as he watches Gator sway from foot to foot, eyes on the ground, hands in his pockets.

"Thanks for comin with me today. I hope- ya know, I hope it was a nice day off for you." Kirby says, shoulders jumping and then settling as they linger by their door.

"It was nice." Gator says, voice quite. Eyes on the ground.

"Good. That's... good." Kirby lickes his lips, he doesn't wanna go inside yet, doesn't want the day to end. Even though the sun has been gone for hours now, the day has ended, but this hasn't, whatever it is. He looks up to the night sky, craning his neck to look for his favorite stars.

"Kirby?" It's barley a whisper.

"Yeah?" Kirby's head snaps back down, eyes on Gator immediately, and finds him looking back. And then he's leaning forward. A soft press of lips to his cheek. Gator's skin is warm against theirs, his lips a little wet, like he'd licked them nervously before making his decision.

He's gone as fast as it happened. Taking a few steps away.

"It was really nice." His voice is strained, Kirby wants to reach out to him. Can see the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. But he doesn't, knows it will just scare him away.

"The nicest day I've had in awhile. And I-" his voice catches in his throat. Kirby frowns, watch him swallow with difficulty.

"I want- with you. But I-" Gator frowns now, his hands shaking at his sides, he clocks Kirby eyeing them and shoves them into his pockets roughly.

"I don't think- I mean-" he groans, low, frustrated, tilts his head back, turns away from Kirby and wipes at his face.

"It's okay." Kirby says, wraps their arms around their middle. Gator turns back to them.

"What?" He asks, lip wobbling, he digs his teeth in.

"It's okay. To want that. Ya know. But I understand. I mean I know- I know who your dad is and I get it. I understand." He nods, licks his lips, clears his throat.

"You can't. And that's okay. Ya know? I'll be here. For whatever. Anything you need." He takes a deep breath, looks to the sky again for a moment, lets Gator have a second to himself before looking back to him.

"Weed. A friend. Just a place to fuck around and not be under anyones thumb for awhile. A shoulder to cry manly tears on. I'll be here. For you. Just, whenever." Kirby shrugs, their throat feeling tight, even through the small tease, or maybe because of it.

Gator stares at them, for a long time. And then he's stomping forward, determined. He grabs the front of Kirby's shirt and tugs, pulls them to his chest, their lips pressed together firmly, for just a moment, before he pulls back, forhead resting against Kirby's, his eyes still closed from the kiss.

"I had the best fucking day with you." He whispers, tugs on Kirby's shirt again, desperate, and then he's gone.

"Me too." Kirby breathes, a whisper in the dark. Kirby blinks the tears away, his fingers pressing to his trembling lips as he listens to Gator's footsteps disappear into the dark.

They stand there for a long time, long after Gator's truck has driven away. Kirby stands on his doorstep, fingers pressed to his lips, and looks up at the stars, their eyes finding their favorites with ease. Two stars, directly above them, nestled next to each other, the mirror image of the freckles gracing Gator's cheek. They light the sky above his house as he finally goes inside. His chest trying to fight off the spark of hope threatening to ignite, theatening to set that feral thing in his chest on fire.

Kirby falls into bed, looks out the window and closes his eyes, presses his lips gently to the inside of his arm, and let's it burn.

#gator tillman #gator tillman fic #gator tillman x oc #oc: kirby rivers #gator tillman x kirby rivers #I AM SO NERVOUS POSTING THIS IVE NEVER POSTED OC STUFF REALLY I DONT THINK #not that anyone cared about anyway aaahhhhhhhh #my writing #mine #gator tillman x orginal character #nonbinary/trans oc #if this needs more tags let me know ive never done this before hahahah #my fic

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