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bookshelf-dust · 11 months

Text

community service

ghostface!billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 3,714

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, being drunk, drunk driving, domestic abuse (super small mention), rather violent and descriptive murder, literally this is just murder, slight suggestive ideas

a/n: hi!! look at me! i remembered how to write! anyway. this fic has been in the drafts for months, but here it is. one of the kills is inspired by a kill from scream 2, and another is from *i think* the first season of chucky. anyway. it’s not gonna be for everyone! it’s dark and fucked up and kinda questionable. but it’s also for my masked men lovers. i see you. i am you. i hope you enjoy!! i love you!! <333

other ghostface! au’s: steddie & eddie

————

You check your watch for what seems like the millionth time, only for a few minutes to have passed since the last time you looked. Billy is late again, but at least now you know why.

You hadn’t been stupid enough to think he was having an affair, not when you know so much better than that. When you know he’d do anything for you.

The longer you sit here, the more unfocused your eyes get, and you start to think about everything you’ve realized over the past week. Part of you has known for longer. You just didn’t want to overanalyze this, not like you do everything else.

You hoped he’d come to you. But clearly he wants to keep this to himself.

He’d been doing well, too, up until you found the smear of blood inside the bathroom cabinet. He’d pranced around the room half-naked that night after his shower, so you knew he wasn’t the one who’d been injured.

Last week you decided to clean out the closet on your day off. You remembered a pair of shoes that you hadn’t seen in forever, and began looking through all the boxes buried in the corners, under piles of clothes discarded in a rush to get ready.

You’d pulled the lid off a surprisingly light box, only to find a mask. One you’d seen in costume stores, at Halloween parties. On the news.

And you just knew.

There hadn’t ever been an instance where he’d worn it. None of his simple Halloween costumes ever required a mask. He hadn’t ever worn it for you, even if you’d like that much more than you’re sure is normal.

What’s more concerning is that this realization–it didn’t scare you. You aren’t scared now, sitting in the living room, waiting for him to come home, knowing exactly what he’s been up to. He probably thinks you’re in bed by now, anticipating him joining you.

Instead, you sit curled in a chair, socked feet tucked up under you. Your body is tired, you can feel as much, but your mind won’t rest until you’ve taken care of this.

It’s then, when you’re starting to get sick of waiting, that you hear the sound of heavy footsteps, thick-soled boots bounding up the front stairs. Your spine straightens, eyes glued to the way the lock turns with a twist of his key, his shadow as it spills across the floor when he walks inside.

Billy isn’t surprised to see the living room glowing in a yellow light. You usually leave it on for him anyway. What he’s not expecting is to see you sitting in your chair, chin resting on your hand, as you watch him remove his jacket.

“What are you doing up so late, baby?”

You don’t move, just keep your eyes on him as he walks towards you. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, a very tight one, and it occurs to you that you haven’t seen his arms in a little while. They’re bigger. You’re sure of it.

“It’s only eleven forty-five,” you say.

He laughs, dropping gently to his knees in front of you, hands going to rest on your own. He presses a kiss to the top of your bare thigh.

“You’re usually in bed by now.”

He kisses your knee, lips warm against your skin except for where the cold metal of his new piercing touches you. It’s healed, but still strange to see him with it after all this time.

“Wanted to see you.”

Billy is in love with you. And that means he knows you like the back of his hand. So this, the way you’ve sat out here for him, that sad but almost frustrated look in your eye, it tells him everything he needs to know.

It tells him that you know.

You’re a very intelligent woman. You’re his smart girl, and he knew you’d figure it out sooner or later. He’d only kept it from you because he knew you’d worry. Knew you’d overthink it and make yourself crazy. He just wanted you to have some peace of mind. But clearly that hasn’t worked out so well.

“And ask you something,” you continue, reaching down to twist one of his curls around your finger.

There it is.

“Shoot.” Billy wraps his hands around the backs of your knees, fingertips still chilly from the cool night air. His grip is soft, but still possessive.

You rub your nose, look up at the ceiling and take a deep breath.

“When were you gonna let me in on your little secret?”

You can feel his breath on your bare legs when he exhales. He tilts his head and presses his cheek gently against your knee.

“Look at me,” he says, voice firm. You oblige.

“It feels kind of shitty that you kept it from me. That I only found out because I decided to be productive for once and do a little cleaning. We’re not supposed to keep secrets from each other, Billy. That’s what makes this work.”

When you’ve finished, he straightens his back and pushes off the floor. He’s looming over you now. It doesn’t intimidate you, even if it should. If other people might be scared of him.

That’s what he’s stuck on. You’re not scared. You’re not angry about what he’s doing. You’re concerned about fucking communication.

He leans down and sets his hands against the armrests of your chair. You have no choice but to look him in the eye.

“You’re my girl. It’s a crazy world out there.” He lifts one hand and runs his thumb underneath your eye before removing it again. “I gotta keep you safe.”

You drop your head back against the chair. “Jesus christ, Billy. This goes both ways. I want to take care of you just like you do for me. I don’t think it’s fair that you kept this to yourself when I could’ve helped you deal with it, I don’t know.”

He doesn’t scoff. He doesn’t even quirk a brow. He’s taking you seriously, just like always.

“What, you wanna clean me up or somethin’?”

You’re quiet. He rubs the tip of his nose against your cheek.

“You know the answer to that.”

Billy takes your chin in his hand. “I apologize for not telling you earlier. I didn’t want to worry you. It takes awhile to get back from Hawkins, that’s why I’ve been home so late. Work was just an excuse.”

“Hawkins?”

He kisses you, mouth slotting against your own. The way he sucks on your bottom lip leaves you feeling dazed, though you know that’s exactly why he does it. Just to see the look in your eye. He should’ve known you’d take this well.

“Yeah. ‘Lotta shit left behind back there. Best to do some community service while I can, don’t you think?”

There’s a bruise on his bicep, dark in the dim lighting of your living room.

“Yeah, Billy. I think so.”

————

The phone hooked to the wall in Jason’s office starts to ring. He rolls his eyes. Anyone important enough would know what time of day it is, and that means he’s busy.

Jason stands still at the altar, flipping through the last few pages of notes he made for his next service. He checks his watch, noting that he should start confessionals soon. His shoulders rise and fall, steady breaths filling his lungs.

The phone keeps ringing, and it’s starting to make him angry. He stops what he’s doing and stomps out in the hall, stepping just far enough inside the small room to answer the phone.

“What?”

The line is silent, but someone is on the other side, and he knows it.

“Hello? What do you want?”

He hears someone inhale. “Why don’t you lose the attitude, Carver? Still haven’t gotten that stick outta your ass?”

Jason puts the phone in his other hand.

“Excuse me? Who is this?”

“No need to worry about that, Pastor Carver. Now, would you like to play a game, Jason?”

The blonde rubs a hand over his forehead. What is he, five?

“No. I have a job to do. Grow up.” He hangs up the phone, slamming it back in its place before walking back out.

Jason is older now. Went to community college, pursued ministry. He always knew that’s where he would end up. It’s what he deserves. It gives him great power, preaching.

Not that a damn word that comes out of his mouth isn’t bullshit.

But this is what he is good at. He will not be teased. He is important, and he knows it.

He collects his notes from where he’d set them on the altar, picks up his personalized Bible, slips the cap back onto his pen.

The confessional booth is set up in the corner, against the wall with the biggest window. He thinks it’s the most beautiful spot in the church, what with the way the stain glass plays across the floor.

He enters the booth, thumb entwining in the chain around his neck. When Jason started his work, he’d taken part in confessionals much more often. Now that he’s so committed, he has to schedule a specific time period where people can come in.

And he knows they will. They always do. People praise Pastor Carver for being so wise, for guiding them in the right direction, into the right hands.

But he doesn’t take kindly to criticism. He knows what he’s doing. He was made for this. Now he can protect people like him from the people he went to high school with. Now he has real power.

There’s some light shuffling coming from the other side of the booth. Did someone come in? Maybe he didn’t hear them over that stupid phone call. He shouldn’t have answered.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

He’s met with silence. He listens, but there’s nothing. He knows he heard something. He’s still young, in perfect health. He doesn’t make mistakes like that.

“We can begin whenever you’re ready,” he says, wondering if maybe whoever is in the other booth might be shy. If maybe they’re a new member of the church congress.

Still he gets no response. He doesn’t like being ignored. What is with people today?

Jason presses the side of his face against the wood, trying to hear through the small gaps. They’re not wide enough to see through clearly, but he gets a glance at something moving. He knew it. He hears the shuffle again, temper rising.

“Listen, If you’re not gonna—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. A knife, with a freshly sharpened blade, slices through that cheap wood, settling in his cheek. He can’t speak. The metal scrapes against his teeth. If he were to try, he’d certainly lose his tongue.

Blood fills his mouth, and his ears start to ring. He can’t breathe, can’t hear. When the knife is yanked back, pulled maliciously from his face, he’s so completely shocked that he falls, brain malfunctioning. Shutting down, surely.

Quick and easy was best for someone like Jason Carver. Such a big fuckin’ mouth. Never using it for any good, only to push his corrupt agenda on others—like he’s some god.

He should’ve played the damn game. Maybe Billy ought to forego the phone calls and get eight to it. Seems that being blunt is the only way to get through to these assholes.

Wiping his knife off against his robe, Billy steps out of the booth and walks around to Jason’s side. The man sits on the floor, slumped against the seat. His eyes are open, but he’s lost too much blood to be able to form a retort.

Billy leans down, grabbing at the chain around Jason’s neck. The blonde tries to grab for this mysterious figure's arm, tries to do anything, but it doesn’t matter.

The chain breaks easily, gold cross standing out against his gloved hand. He tucks it into his pocket. Such a waste of space, this guy. So fucking pretentious.

Billy has never been happier to take out the trash.

————

When Billy gets home, he’s pissed. Mainly because he’s dirty. Carver was a bleeder, got that shit everywhere. It’s on the hem of his robe, caked onto his shoe where he had to step up and get the necklace off.

But more so, he’s pissed that he has to be the one to do this. That people are so blind to the shit storm around them.

He kicks the back door shut behind him.

“Billy?” Your voice calls out to him.

“Headin’ to the bathroom, sweet thing.” He hears you hop off the bed and pad down the hall.

You’re such a fuckin’ sweetheart. He can’t believe it.

You walk into the bathroom the moment he throws the mask down on the toilet seat, blood staining the white material. You watch him put his shoes and the robe in the tub.

He spins around, a smile spreading across his face. “Hey, baby. How’s my girl?”

You meet him halfway for a kiss. “I’m okay. Are you?”

“Better now that I’m with you. Listen, can you do me a favor, sugar?”

You nod.

“In the back of the closet, you know where, there’s a little jewelry box. Can you bring it in here?”

“Of course.”

He winks at you, tying his curls up on the top of his head. “Be quick.”

When you return, he opens the box, and your heart drops at the sheer amount of jewelry inside. But the longer you look, the more you realize what this is.

He’s kept something from everyone. There are rings. Chains. Keyrings. Holy shit. There’s a pair of earrings that look like some Karen Wheeler used to wear. Something very expensive looking, like only a Harrington would have. There’s a lighter, too. With the last name Byers engraved on it.

You stop gawking when Billy tosses the cross necklace inside. He’s almost done. And when he is, you’ll both get out of here. He’s gonna give you such a good life. You just don’t know his plans yet.

“It’s so much safer without them here, you know that, baby?”

Billy looks you in the eye. You push a curl back behind his ear.

“I know. You do such a good job, Billy.”

————

Tommy Hagan has been a piece of shit since elementary school, and he’s destined to be one for the rest of his life.

He works at a car dealership, still in Hawkins, still drinking and pretending like he’s seventeen. He peaked in high school, and everyone knows it. Shit, he knows it, and that’s why he’s still clinging to this lifestyle, even when no one else has.

Fucking Steve Harrington even got his ass out of Hawkins, and that’s saying something. Tommy thought Steve would be there for the rest of his life, raising that stupid family he blabbed about, sending the kids to the same schools, but no.

Even Carol left. The woman he should have married. The chick he treated like shit after they graduated, all because he wasn’t ready to grow up–and she was.

He’s still not ready. Not as he sits in his living room, alone because his wife went to stay with her sister. He’s been drinking out of his ass lately, and the other night, he put his hands on her. Tommy isn’t even sure he cares, if he’s honest with himself.

He’s an insecure asshole. He was in high school, and Billy saw the way he treated you because you were quiet. Saw the way he spoke to Carol when they were alone, the way he’d corner other girls at football games or parties, even when Carol was looking for him.

It doesn’t matter who he married. Not really. Tommy Hagan was destined to become a deadbeat wife-beater, and he’d never have had the initiative to change that.

He finishes the beer he’s been nursing and pushes off the couch, heading for the kitchen to find another.

He tosses the bottle into the garbage can rather than the recycling, and it seems to hit hard enough that it shatters inside the trash bag. He shrugs it off. It’s not like he ever takes it out anyway.

Tommy pulls the refrigerator door open, metal handle cool under his fingertips. That was his last beer.

“Y’gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He slams the door closed, the rattling of jars and bottles inside echoing throughout the quiet room. He presses his forehead against the wall, thinking. Shit, if he can’t drink, he might as well eat something.

There’s a TV dinner in the freezer. He pulls it out, shoving it in the microwave as quickly as possible.

Something else that hasn’t changed: how fucking impatient Tommy is. He can’t even handle waiting the two minutes required for his food.

He opens drawers, trying to find the silverware before realizing it’s all dirty. He can’t believe this shit.

He yanks open the dishwasher and pulls out the bottom rack. The microwave starts to beep though, and Tommy backs off for a moment to retrieve his dinner.

With how loud the beeping was, he didn’t hear anyone approach. Didn’t hear the floorboards creak. Didn’t realize that there was someone lurking behind him.

He removes the TV dinner and wipes his hands down his face. “Fuckin’ hell.”

He bends down once more, reaching for a knife so that he’ll be able to cut up his tiny steak.

He doesn’t expect to be shoved, not in the safety of his own home. And he’s certainly not quick enough or to be able to prevent it himself from stumbling, tripping, unable to catch himself. He yells out, but there’s no one else to hear it.

He grabs for the counter, but it’s much too slippery with that fucking vinyl countertop. He’s got no chance.

Tommy Hagan falls forward. When he realizes where he’s headed, what his body is falling over, he thinks for a moment that he should try and brace himself for the fall. But it’s no use. Nothing about his situation is providing him a way out.

His body collides with the silverware basket, into every knife and fork standing there. Like they were waiting for him.

It’s happened so fast that he can’t even scream. All that comes out is a strangled moan. He’s bleeding and he can feel it. He can hear the footsteps behind him, and he tries to reach for the floor, tries to push up and twist to see who’s done this to him. His hand slips in the mess, but he doesn’t have to do much when someone is pulling his hair, using it as leverage to yank him up. The knives below him scrape and drag, his skin tugging in unnatural ways.

Tommy coughs, blood filling his mouth. He can’t speak. He can’t do the one thing he’s good at: open that big mouth.

The masked figure looming over him grabs his other hand, causing him to press further into the silverware. He screams, but it comes out garbled as they tug off his wedding ring.

Tommy’s hair is released, and he sinks impossibly deeper, metal piercing everything.

“Such a shame, Hagan.” The figure speaks. Tommy doesn’t recognize the voice. He wishes he could yell, ask what they want, why they’re doing this–but he can’t.

“Never deserved that wife of yours. Never deserved anything you got. But this? Yeah, this is the surprise you needed.”

The last thing Tommy hears is his own front door slamming shut and locking. How did they get a key? He’ll never know. He’ll die here, and no one is coming for him.

————

When Billy slips into bed with you that night, he coaxes your head onto his chest, wanting to feel you. Wanting to know that you’re really there. He leans down to kiss you, finding your eyes glued to the closet door. You know it’s in there.

“What is it, baby?”

You blink, shaking your head. You sit up some, and slip your hand under the edge of his t-shirt, fingers running over the soft of his warm tummy.

“Is this fulfilling for you? Is it something you think you’ll do forever?”

Billy allows himself to think for a moment, and while he does, he gently pulls you closer, leaning up to get that kiss he wanted. When he pulls away, he has an answer for you.

“It’s not something I want to do forever, no. I know we moved to the city and out of Hawkins, but I go back there because it doesn’t feel right to leave those motherfuckers there, roaming around and making it worse. There are good people there, and they don’t deserve to live in a place that’s drowning in shit. So yeah, it’s fulfilling in that I know I can make it a better place. I can protect the people who once protected me.”

And that’s true. Joyce is still there. He talks to her on the phone a few times a week. Shit, the woman is practically his surrogate mother. Max is still there, in college with her friends. Sure, she’ll transfer soon, but still. He can’t leave it like that.

He would’ve taken care of Neil had he not done that himself. Stomped off one night, drunk, and never came home. He got in an accident. Billy was glad to skip that chore.

“I’m almost done, sweetheart, I promise. Just wanted to leave behind something better. I won’t do this much longer. Just wanna keep you safe. It’s so scary out there, baby. I only want the best for you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, watching his chest rise and fall. This should freak you out, shouldn’t it? It should alarm you? It doesn’t. He’s so good at this. He’s a natural. Doesn’t leave a trace. You do feel safer, admittedly.

“I understand. I just want you to be careful.”

His nails scratch lightly at your neck. “Hey, you don’t have to worry about that. I’ve got this. Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby. This hellhole is gonna be so much better when I’m done.”

“Yeah, Billy. It is. Then maybe we can get out of here for real.”

“Of course. Anything for my girl.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#savannah’s fics #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #ghostface!billy hargrove #ghostface!billy #billy hargrove x female reader

219 notes · View notes

veenus777 · 1 year

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Can I request a Wilbur Soot where the reader and him have been dating for like 8/9 years and in one of tommys mod videos they just spend it on a cute Minecraft date, maybe they have a fake proposal where Wilbur gives reader a diamond and it’s really cute? Feel free to go anyway you want with this!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

-anon🦋

◜Minecraft Date◞

┊ ᝰ﹕Just Fluff and a little drama, SFW, Reader GN, English from Google translate

┊ ᝰ﹕Thank you very much for your order, it was my first and it made me very happy! I confess that I had to watch some of Tommy's videos to do it, I hope you like it <3

♤ Ever since you and Wilbur started dating a few years ago, you've made a tradition of every Friday being reserved for date nights and it's always worked out well.

♧ Until today when the restaurant called saying there was a problem with reservations which resulted in nowhere to go and that left you feeling discouraged.

♤ Tommy, knowing what happened, decides to invite them to participate in his weird Minecraft mods video.

♧ You end Wilbur up accepting and staying home for game night.

♤ Chaos is the definition of everything, Tommy running and screaming as he is being chased by some horror entity.

♧ While Philza just tries to build his house in peace while being continually hindered by Charlie.

♤ Somewhere between gathering resources and laughing at Tommy getting killed by Chucky, you get the brilliant idea to turn your date night into a Minecraft date.

♧ Wilbur immediately agrees and you look for a village to make your place and everything looks beautiful with rugs and flowers.

♤ However, the peace was short-lived, because as soon as Tommy and Cherlie found out about the idea, they made it their personal mission to destroy your date.

♧ You only turned around for three seconds before being blown to death by a TNT placed by Charlie.

♤ And a war began, on one side you and Wilbur trying to build your meeting and on the other Tommy and Charlie doing everything possible and impossible to ruin it.

♧ And in the middle we had Philza who simply gave up on all of you and went off on his own to create his own house.

♤ They exploded your venue a total of six times before you guys finally gave up and looked for another place for your date.

♧ However, it seemed that Tommy had predicted it since the choice of mod didn't help his goal at all, and every time you had any moment of peace and tranquility it ended with you both being chased by Jason or Frankenstein.

"We're that couple in horror movies that goes out to make out and ends up dying" Wilbur says as his character walks around looking for somewhere safe

"Wow, what a comforting babe" you respond ironically

♤ You decide to dig down to the badrock and build your place there, without the chance of being interrupted by your friends or any mob.

♧ Wilbur decorates the place with plants on the wall and a table in the middle, carpet and flowers everywhere.

♤ He gives you cooked meat and fish and you just sit and talk.

"I'm sorry we can't go on a real date"

"it's not your fault will, and anyway we're having our date now"

"Well but that doesn't stop me from giving you something precious and expensive" he jokes and throws some diamonds to you

"Ohh is that a propose?" You say laughing

"Yes Madam, would you like to spend the rest of your cubical life building houses and mining by my side? I promise you a huge house and all the diamonds in this game" he says in a pompous voice

"Wow it's impossible to deny it my good sir after all this is every person's dream" you respond in the same tone

♧ The conversation doesn't last long before Charlie invades the place.

"I can't believe my eyes! You betrayed me, Wilbur, with that!" Charlie arrives, hitting Will and making a big show of it. "And our children?! Our love was nothing to you?!”

♤ The fight lasted for a good few minutes resulting in the room being broken and everything being blown up, as well as one death for willbur.

♧ The recording didn't last any longer and soon Tommy finished it.

♤ And the rest of the night was just you and Will relaxing on the couch watching some cliché romantic comedy, without any kind of explosions or murderous chases.

.˚｡ 💋 .˚｡ 💌

#qsmp wilbur #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot #dsmp #qsmp #lovejoy #sorry boys #headcanons #imagine

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thestarfishinjootsoffice · 2 years

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okay hear me out!

Imagine a little kid buys a Chucky doll and after a while the doll starts acting weird and stuff. So the kid doesn't realise what's going on but the parents just want to throw the doll away.

The kid, doesn't want to throw the doll away but after the parents told the kid that they would get a new one she was like ''okay whatever.''

Later that night, when the kid was about to go to bed Chucky just sprints right in front of the child. Chucky expected the kid to be scared but instead they were confused.

Chucky did everything he could to get the child to be scared of him but the child is just so dumbfounded it kinda hurts.

AFTER THAT. The parents end up throwing away the doll and Chucky goes on a killing spree etc.. then Chucky gets bored and goes to find that kid again..

I wrote this at 12 am and turned out to be so cringe help.

Also be specific with me, like idk wtf to do after u said that last sentence without any more information??

"you're actually not that bad..."

You've had your eye on those famous good guy dolls for a while. Your parents didn't mind buying it, after it was really popular and seemed to bring positive vibes. Although tad bit expensive.... It was okay.

There were soo many of them so you just closed your eyes and waved your pointed finger like crazy and picked the one it landed on. Your mother chuckled as she got your selected pick and went over to your dad to get checked.

Your mom's jaw was almost on the floor as the cashier announced the price.

"four ninety two!? I thought they ranged from only a hundred or two!" even your father seemed startled by this.

"yes but it seems this one is a chucky doll, these are very rare and so cost a lot."

Your mother turned to look at you. And then decided this wasn't the time to argue and agreed immediately to taking a coupon the cashier suggested.

You had placed ur newly brought friend on the living room as your parents watched you open your toy.

It was just like you've seen everywhere. Permanent plastic smile and ginger hair and a cute little overall outfit.

"hi, I'm chucky! I'm your friend to the end." you smiled at this and as soon as it said it liked to be hugged you immediately did so.

This interaction warming both of your parents hearts and were glad they bought that doll for you.

It has been a few days since you had gotten that doll but it emitted an uneasy feeling to both your parents. They would often find sharp objects around their house missing and end up near you and the doll.

They confronted you about it but you denied their accusations.

Or that one time you talked to them about over hearing chucky move around your room and the house. Your parents were concerned as you never had any experience like this before.

And they have been lately feeling if the doll is watching them. And having quite fed up with this as well as worried for the safety of their child they choose to get it rid of it later.

They announce this to you but being an oblivious child this was confusing to you. Why? He didn't do anything, (that bad) and besides he was a good friend.

Your parents not being able to come up with a good lie as to not freak you out or confuse you any further they told you they would buy you another toy a much better one at that. So you just agreed. He was a bit weird at night anyway.

After it was bed time you got ready to climb on your bed when a flash of colors as tall as you sprint in front of you.

Getting to properly look at the colorfull object, you see that it's your chucky doll! And he's smirking at you. Almost as if looking down on you. But then the more you stared at him the lesser the wide smirk on his face stayed.

"...."

"..."

"I thought dolls weren't supposed to walk."

"what? That's what you're more focused on?"

His voice sounded nothing like the ones before, it was masculine, rough and raspy.

"well I've never heard of walking dolls in real life. That's actually kinda cool!"

"what?" he some kids would be scared or running... Well it is kinda nice to be complimented from time to time. But screw it.

Chucky went under the bed and pulled out a sharp large knife and threatened you with it "okay kid, there's no time for talking. Let's play a game, it's called hide the soul. If you refuse or cause me any trouble this knife is going right into your throat."

"....."

"but I don't wanna."

"YOU- little shit..." the doll mumbled to himself he couldn't kill you, he needs you alive. Then he got the idea that if he scared you enough you would finally listen to him, he could just tie you up but his height and body severely disadvantage him. Its not like if he tried to you couldn't just defenestrate him.

He tried to scare you by throwing the knife near your head and you said to him to use a ball to play catch instead. Threatened to kill your parents, you said he was too little. Your other toys? They aren't alive. A trick by trying to fool you into thinking he gave up and so you can just sleep now and he'll go away. Of course it didn't work!

He's not a very patient man so he snapped and lunged at you but you acted quickly and picked him up from his tiny arms and locked him in the your closet then ran to your parents.

"Y/N! y/n.. Unlock the door, I'm sorry okay? I just got a little mad because that was my favourite game and you didn't wanna play.... I promise I won't do it again. Unlock the door y/n." you hesitated and didn't reply. And answered with a "I'll think about it."

At this point he had zero patience left.

"UNLOCK THE DOOR YOU STUPID LITTLE SHIT!" besides his voice, thrashing and banging was all that could be heard inside.

*knock knock*

*𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖆𝖆𝖐𝖐*

"mommy.. Daddy.."

"jesus... What is it honey..?" asked your mom

"what are you doing up so late?" said your dad after. Looking to the clock it was currently 09:52 pm.

"chucky's being weird, he's calling me names and has a knife."

"......"

"..........."

"honey what? A knife?"

"that damn doll." your father replied under his breath shortly after, obviously sick of what's happening cause of this one small toy. getting ready to return or throw that doll away immediately.

Unfortunately it was too late to return it. Your father unlocked your closet door and got chucky out just like you told him and threw it in the trash. Finding no knife but too tired to even care anymore. He tiredly told you to go to sleep and to discuss it later.

You only nodded. And did so. Still on guard if he comes back again, he was quite scary.

Chucky was livid and internally exhausted from all that action earlier. And the only way to charge him up is by taking his anger out. He took the knife from behind his shirt and so went his way to the unattended car and approaching owner.

It was evening and he had a killed a total of 6 to 9 people in a span of 2 days. But he got bored out of his mind and still no luck in successfully finding a child somehow. But he could always come back to you. But this time. he wasn't going to steal your soul.

Well although you were dumb, you are actually not that bad.

It was 8:45 and past your bedtime. You forgot to lock the window and just as soon as you were getting ready to get into your bed a voice behind you called out to you.

"hey y/n." the same raspy voice said.

You turned around and see your once toy sit on the edge of your widow. immediately taking caution. "are you going to yell at me again?"

"what!? Noo!" Chucky said playfully. He was kinda surprised you didn't ask him if he was going to hurt you instead.

"I have a change a heart." he got down and starting slowly walking towards you.

"the last time you screamed at me you were acting nice." you replied sadly with a frown on your face.

Chucky stopped and then let out a loud cackle. "this one's different!" a smile was visible on his face as he walked even closer but not maliciously.

"I think you and me are going to be best friends." he added one last time.

__________________

Yes, you and him DO become best friends and he is now your other father figure 👹

#chucky #charles lee ray #chucky x reader #x child reader #child!reader #x daughter!reader #x son reader #child's play #cult of chucky #seed of chucky #bride of chucky #child's play 2 #child's play 1988 #child's play 3 #curse of chucky

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charmedreincarnation · 9 months

Note

hi i’m sorry for this small rant. i really hope you reply to it because i’m spiralling so bad. i have been listening to v powerful luckiest girl and get all your desires instantly forced subs and i had two really bad days and overall my life feels so shit and i feel like nobody gives a shit about me feel left out with my friends and am really regretting some past choices i have made as in subjects i chose to study. why do subs not work on me ever? i detach but subs just don’t work for me idk what should i do i want to enter the void and live my better/dream life but i keep failing and i’m so spiraling so hard rn. i am not even seeing small success i can’t even manifest my acne away or to grow a few inches how will i enter the void and magically change my life entirely. please help me out. how do i manifest or enter the void as soon as i can. i am being delululu living in 4d but yes ik if i am truly living in the end i shouldn’t have doubts but it’s been so many months when will i see results in my 3d. manifestion should be instant right. i’m sorry for my negativity i hope you have a great day

Hi love! I feel like any of this could be answered in another ask, but you seem really worried, so I'm going to answer it anyway!

First and foremost, you are allowed to have doubts. Just because you have doubts doesn't mean you're producing those thoughts. From a psychological perspective (which aligns with LOA), our thoughts are not entirely our own. This is a scientific truth, whether you believe in LOA or not. Scientists say that our thoughts are influenced by external factors such as our environment, upbringing, and the thoughts of others. Sound familiar? They also claim that we have the power to change our thoughts and create our own reality by consciously choosing the thoughts we entertain. So, just know that you're going to have doubts until the end, but as long as you categorize them as random thoughts and not your own beliefs, they don't matter! For example, if someone dressed as Chucky the doll jump-scared you and you started having "scary" thoughts about it, that doesn't mean you actually believe Chucky is real and coming to get you. You have psychological responses to certain things that have been ingrained and coded in you for a while now. What LOA does is help us intercept these false messages and reframe them as "useless" instead of messages we encode in our mind and assumption.

I've always been interested in psychology and neurology, and even though it doesn't directly relate to your question, it's important to mention that you do have a brain, and your brain is wired to act in certain ways. Once you're aware of why you're acting and believing certain things, it becomes way easier to understand that the 3D world is malleable. I really suggest reading books by authors like Joe Dispenza so you can understand yourself better. Also, watching YouTubers who explain anxiety and reading self-help books can provide helpful ways to manage your own anxiety.

The second thing is, if you don't believe in subliminals, I don't know why people do this, but if you don't have faith in something or assume it doesn't work for you, just use something you have a little faith in. For example, maybe you're more logical. You can read about brain waves and then listen to binaural beats for anxiety,manifesting, and faith. Have faith in it, because you'll understand and know that those waves genuinely change your brain's alignment. That's just one example, but subliminals are not the only type of audios out there. There are many other methods to explore.

Also, meditation is very helpful. Not just to reach the void, but do you know how many conscious thoughts we have in a day? On average, it is estimated that a person has around 60,000 to 80,000 thoughts per day. These thoughts can range from conscious, deliberate thoughts to automatic, repetitive thoughts. That doesn't even include the number of unconscious thoughts we have, which is probably 100k+. You constantly have these little things running around in your head, trying to keep you alive, keeping you repeating the same thought patterns, beliefs, and assumptions. You can't consciously control them most of the time, but your brain and mind are working overtime 24/7. It's not your fault, so that's why meditation can help you. Not just to reach the void, though you can tap into that using some form of meditation as well, but to clear your mind and then it’s there it will be better to affirm and believe you can do whatever you desire. If you're not truly embodying the desired state, which you're not because you sent this ask, do you think a few measly affirmations can counteract the hundreds of thousands of thoughts you've been having every day since birth, most of which you don't even know exist? Affirmations do work, but trust me, I've been where you're at and worse. This is not the state to solely rely on "miracle affirmations" because you won't believe them, and when something doesn't happen, you'll just want to give up and confirmation bias will make you subconsciously think, "Well, see? I knew it. It isn’t real" But in reality, your mind is just looking for proof to align with your negative beliefs.

I know you say you haven't manifested anything, but can you really think back to something you thought was a "coincidence" or something you didn't really ask for but it just appeared? We usually brush those off as just the world at play or a small world, but nope, that was you. Maybe you don't have clear skin or whatever your desire may be, but as you probably know, that's because you've put it on a pedestal compared to all the other "small" but great things you've manifested

I know you probably wanted me to tell you exactly what to do, but I genuinely don't know you the way you know yourself - your own self, mind, and behaviors. You know best, fr! I could have said anything I've said before, like imagination is the real reality, the 3D being malleable, if you can see and feel it you can manifest it, try SATs or lucid dreaming lalala. But I've learned that you know what you have to do. Sit and meditate to learn about yourself and your mind, and why you think what you think. What past experiences do you still hold onto, reliving them in your mind and creating assumptions that no longer serve you? They can still affect you, we are humans and emotions cling to us like bees to honey, and that's okay. But we need to start moving those experiences into the past and start creating with what we are now, which is the present. Any given moment is a time to say, 'Okay, this doesn't serve me anymore, and this does. I don't want this life anymore, I want this type of life,' and consciously start creating with those desires instead.

Acknowledge your doubts, they're just doubts, and they're really just an extension of life factors that have been slowly consuming your mind. You may have them, but as a god, do you have them? No. But as a human, you are influenced by them, and who cares? You know who you are and your power now, so if you disregard them, work around them. But I can't tell you what to do because I'm not you! I wholeheartedly believe that you will get through this because I have as well and the lows are just apart of your journey as the success as corny as it sounds. But when you do succeed I promise you’ll back to this movement and just be very happy you didn’t give up despite how hard it was 💝

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #my asks

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roadkillremi · 9 months

Text

Uncle!Randy Meeks HeadCannons

Holiday edition!!

(^i want to pounce Jamie Kennedy in this^)

MasterList Uncle Randy MasterList

Summary : Just Holiday stuff

(Christmas, Thanksgiving, Valentines, Halloween)

He's so sexy yum yum.

Halloween

He loves Halloween. He decorates the house and watches scary movies all month.

Depending on Chad and Mindy Age he'd show them different movies. At first Corpses Bride, Monster House, Goosebumps, etc. He doesn't want to give them nightmares.

Couples costumes are a must. He somehow finds a costume that you two can be. (Chucky and Tiffany, Jack and Sally, Frankenstein and bride of Frankenstein)

He takes Mindy and Chad trick or treating. He does this their whole childhood. Until Chad goes, "Trick or treating isn't cool anymore.". It kinda hurt his feelings :(

You know those stupid horror attractions. He goes to those. When Mindy and Chad were younger it was just you and him. And as they got older they tagged along.

He likes hayride trials. He gets so happy.

Christmas /Winter

Ugly christmas sweaters are his thing. And he rocks them.

He dressed up as Santa for little Chad and Mindy once.

He eats the cookies. You make Christmas cookies, bam gone he ate em.

He likes snow. He's a pure child and loves snowball fights. He will not be afraid to throw a snowball at a child.

Favorite Christmas movies ; Elf, scrooge (the scary cartoon one), Santa clause with Tim Allen, the Grinch with Jim Carry.

The idea of him being a director and making a scary Christmas movie gives me yummy thoughts. Just saying.

He tells Chad and Mindy Santa isn't real. Like in 4th grade. They cry and he gets fussed at.

He's a good gift giver. He will find the perfect gifts for everyone. He gets too excited when he finds you the right gift. He gives you most of your gifts early anyway

He doesn't like those stupid advent calendars. He gets impatient and eats all the chocolate. So when Chad wants one he just stares the kid down. And goes "Uh, I ate em all-"

He doesn't do ice skating. He'll try but then not do it. It scares him. He panics and grabs onto you.

He wears those Christmas boxers. They're so sexy on him I mean come on. It's him.

He definitely gets everyone those candies that look like coal. (He got them a lot as a kid.)

As much as he seems to enjoy Christmas and winter. He hates the movies and music. Hallmark makes him want to hit someone. So when someone suggests it he is not happy. He stands there going, "No. There are better films."

Valentines Day

He showers you with gifts.

You'll walk in the door and find flowers all over the place. (If you don't like flowers then it's candy)

He'll do everything perfectly. It's like living in a movie. He has a nice/favorite restaurant. The sentimental gifts, flowers (even helps you dry them if you're into that).

Thanksgiving

He doesn't really cook.. but he'll for sure help.

You'll have to kick him out of the kitchen eventually.

He considers himself an official taste tester.

He loves the macy day parade-

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slafkovskys · 9 months

Note

So we know Baby Henry and Baby Halle love Uncle Brady but how does them meeting the other Uncle Chucky go? I feel like Baby Halle is just giggling around him. It’s definitely before or after the Tkachuk Bowl when they meet.

i see it happening at brady’s rehearsal dinner. with josh a groomsman and henry the ring bearer, they have to be there and mom brings along little halle as well. chantal is showering the youngest norris with all of her attention when brady pops up at the table, a mischievous look on his face as josh looms behind with henry in his arms, “josh already said no, but i figured you would say yes.”

“no, you cannot arm wrestle my one year old brady. my husband is perfectly capable,” mom sighs and brady rolls his eyes.

“i would wait until he’s two to even try, thank you very much. gotta give him at least a shot, but anyway, can introduce the kids to matthew? please?” he’s staring at his mother who’s cradling halle in her arms, “he doesn’t believe that i actually have kids who like me.”

“yeah, that’s fine. just don’t let him convince henry that florida’s a better place to live,” she jokes, watch as josh hands henry off to brady before taking halle off of chantal. the little girl easily curls into her fathers chest and clutches his tie in her tiny hands. she hands josh a rag and a bottle, “since you’ve got her now.”

josh raises an eyebrow as he takes the bottle from his wife, watching as she clinks a wine glass with chantal. he follows brady over to where matthew had huddled up with some of their friends and immediately their attention goes to the two kids the men are holding. matthew reaches out and pokes at henry’s side, “and who’s this?”

“henry,” brady says before looking at the small boy, “and who am i?”

“unca b!” the boy says loudly and the men cheer.

brady looks over to where josh was feeding halle her bottle and nods, “this is halle. she likes emma more than me, but i think that’s because her mom gossips about me when i’m not around. she squeezes my finger though!”

“she does that to everyone, brady,” josh mumbles, messing with the tulle on his tiny daughter’s dress. he looks at matthew, “henry’s favorite is timmy. don’t let brady tell you differently.”

“hey!”

#josh norris #baby norris series #soft thoughts sunday

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anarchy-n-glitter · 4 months

Text

Bring the Pain

SUMMARY: Chucky and Daphne talk things out after he shows up in her living room unannounced. He tells her he's dying and needs her help.

WORDS: 3,649

(PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE)

CHAPTER 2

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Chucky couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed by her reaction.

“It’s been years and that’s how you greet me?” He gawked, feigning hurt and bringing a stubby, plastic hand to his plush chest. The way he blinked and moved so slowly unnerved her. “You made it hard to find you, by the way.”

“Maybe that’s cause I didn’t want you finding me?” She took another good look at the living doll. “You look like shit.” She remarked coldly, placing the iron doorstop on the ivory end table beside the loveseat. She watched the doll wearily as he began to comb his hand through his thinning hair.

“Hey quit shedding on my chair! I want my place to look decent.”

Chucky looked around slowly, holding back a laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry doll, I’ll keep the place spiffy. My hair would go great next to last week’s dirty dishes on the counter!” He howled. “Wait, wait… maybe it’ll look nice in the dirty laundry corner!” He continued to cackle obnoxiously loud, slapping his tiny knee and kicking his feet. Daphne rolled her eyes, despite the tears that seemed to flood them at the sound of his laugh again. He continued on, listing everything gross about her apartment, pointing out everything she had begun to feel insecure about lately. His laughter died down finally with a wheeze and a small coughing fit that had the woman furrowing her brow.

“Anyway, disgusting fucking apartment aside,” he groaned, struggling to get to his tiny feet as his plastic body made popping noises she never thought she’d hear from a doll. His sky blue eyes met her emerald ones and for the first time in 35 years she felt a spark.

A spark with a doll? Be so for real Daphne.

“Me looking like shit is exactly why I’m here.” Chucky gestured awkwardly to his barely two-foot tall self. “I’m dyin’, Daph.” She bit the inside of her lip. Hard.

He had to be lying, there was no way a slimy bastard like Chucky was dying. Daphne glared at him, trying so hard to find where he would be lying. In the brighter light of the lamp she could see he was far worse off than she originally thought. Crows' feet bordered his sunken eyes and wrinkles were apparent on his forehead. In the dull, thinning forest of auburn were small strips of wispy white. He looked like he aged 15 years, which was actually better than she expected.

“I mean, you’re aging.” Daphne stated simply, shrugging. She couldn’t say why he was aging, she wasn’t as well versed in this voodoo stuff as he was, but she couldn’t say for sure that he was dying. For all she knew, this was just another one of his fucked up manipulation tactics.

“No shit, captain obvious.” He growled. “I went to see some witch doctor-” He stopped abruptly at the sound of her giggling. Rolling his eyes, he continued: “And he said Damballa is pissed because of an exorcism.” Daphne tilted her head curiously.

“An exorcism?”

“Yeah, these asshole kids tried to expel certain parties from a certain doll. Well, certain parties are not pleased.” Oh, oh, this was too good.

“So because of that Damballa think’s you’ve abandoned him?” The doll nodded. Daphne held back another laugh. “And you want me to risk pissing him off more to help you?”

“Well, yeah.” Chucky stated simply. He gestured to her. “I mean, come on Daph, you look great! It’s clear you’re doin’ somethin’ right.”

Daphne looked away to hide the way her cheeks grew red at his compliment. “Duh, that’s cause I stay away from catholics.”

“Those kids were not catholic!”

“Even worse.” She answered as she walked into the kitchen. She heard the thud! of Chucky jumping off the chair onto the hardwood floor and the hilarious patter of his tiny feet shortly after. Somehow, despite the change in his stature and circumstance, he felt like nothing changed. Daphne still had a sharp tongue and the banter with her really got him going.

Whether that was good or bad depended… and in this context it worked him up in a bad way.

“You shouldn’t walk away from me when we’re talking, babe. It’s rude.” An amused smile crossed Daphne’s dark lips.

“Or what? You’re gonna kick my shins till I die?” She knew she was playing with fire, but she didn’t necessarily care. She’d love to see what he’d do. She knelt down in front of the homicidal doll, a wide smile on her face.

“You are treading on some thin fucking ice, doll.” He warned in a tone that used to send shivers down her back. Depending on the context it was either from fear or arousal, but now she tried not to laugh. She saw the anger boiling inside him, the frown on his cherub-like face, and it made it all the funnier.

“Chuck, I’m not afraid of you.” Daphne stated simply, pinching at his plastic cheeks. I never have been. “If I’m being honest, I don’t know how anyone is.” She stood up straight and went back to the sink, trying her best to tidy up after he pointed out every little thing wrong with her apartment.

Things had really gone downhill since Tess died.

Daphne scrubbed away at the dishes, one by one and placed the slightly cleaner glassware on the counter above the dishwasher. She opened the dishwasher and glanced inside, realizing she never unloaded the damn thing from the last time she ran it… which was two whole weeks ago. She shook her head as she collected the clean dishes and placed them in the cabinets, nearly forgetting the murderous doll was still wandering about her apartment.

Chucky was a lot harder to keep track of now.

She had finally gotten the dishwasher cleared when she felt a sharp, burning pain in her back. All she could do was freeze for a moment, choking on her words as her nerves were set aflame. That little fucker had climbed on her back and was feverishly stabbing her in the back - what else was new?

“Fuck!” Daphne flung him onto the counter and stood up straight, feeling the warmth of her blood trickle down her back. A shaking hand reached behind her and pulled the knife from its place, and she dizzily examined the blade. This knife was from the dishwasher! She thought to herself in a haze. Chuck, you’re in for it now.

Slowly, like all wounds, the slashes in her back began to mend on their own. Skin and muscle joining together, melting into one, as blood gushed down her back. It hurt like hell and Daphne had to grit her teeth to not scream. She found that this little party trick didn’t quite have the same effect on people if she showed them it hurt. The doll that laid on her counter slowly began to sit up, watching Daphne closely. She huffed indignantly as she palmed her back again, finding holes in her favorite leather top.

“You ruined my favorite shirt, you little shit!” Daphne threw the knife toward the living room, not caring where it landed. Chucky looked up at her in awe, a wicked smile coming to his face finally.

“That amulet does a lot more than just keep you young, doesn’t it?” His question came off more like a statement. He knew now, he didn’t need her to say anything. It was annoying knowing that he couldn’t threaten her when she got on his nerves now, but it did explain why she so comfortably laughed in his face.

It reminded him of Tiffany, though she eventually paid for not taking him seriously.

Daphne straightened up, looking all too smug for someone who was just stabbed. “No shit, captain obvious.” She spat his words back at him. Chucky howled with laughter.

“I missed you, Daph.” He finally said, wiping tears from his eyes. Daphne paused, watching him wearily and wrapping her arms around herself. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She swallowed.

“I missed you too.” Daphne whispered, self conscious.

“Finish doin’ the dishes and come talk. I got a favor to ask of ya.” And with that, the doll slid off of the counter and scurried off to the living room.

⛋⛋⛋⛋⛋

The words from his plastic lips felt surreal. A plan, an insane plan, one that only he could come up with and think he could get away with. Six souls; six sacrifices, that was the prescribed solution to Chuck’s problem according to the doctor he saw. The only problem with that seemed to be that Chuck had already taken six lives… actually it may have been more than six, he said he’d lost count.

Cloudy blue eyes stared up at her, unblinking, as she tried to determine the best course of action.

“So let me get this straight,” Daphne began, exasperated. “Your first set of sacrifices failed so your grand idea is to go to the White House and try again?”

The doll nodded eagerly, and in his gruffer-than-usual tone he answered: “Yeah, see? You get it.” No, she really didn’t.

“Just like that, huh?” She asked sarcastically, her arms still crossed over her chest. “What makes you think it’ll even work? What if Damballa’s really pissed at you?” There was something more to her tone this time. It could almost be mistaken for tenderness.

Daph was a changed woman, that much Chucky knew, but he had to wonder how much of his old flame still burned under her icy exterior.

“He wants something big, Daph. What else is bigger than-”

“It’s delusional.” She cut him off. “Yeah, you could get away with it, but you’re asking me to go with you. I’ll get caught, then what? You keep going and I rot in jail? You get to discard me again like it’s nothin’?”

So that’s what this was about.

“I have a plan.” Chucky muttered, and despite his epiphany he was still finding it hard not to be irritated with Daphne’s refusal.

“Oh great! You have a plan!”

“Just get me there!” He finally shouted. The doll took a moment, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. “And if you really don’t want to stick around you don’t have to.”

Daphne took a moment to think over his words. She still wasn’t sure if he was being honest, after all, it was really easy for him to say she can leave when she wants. Unfortunately for him, she knew Chuck like the back of her hand. Of course, several things had changed over the years clearly, and if he truly was dying…

He did go out of his way to find her. He clearly needed her help desperately. Part of her feared that abandonment, that familiar feeling that came with being used and disposed of. Maybe it would be different, given that he was a doll as of right now and the reason him leaving hurt so much the first time was because she felt he used her body and left her when it was convenient. Technically he was still using her body but in a completely different way - this was more like doing a friend a favor.

Daphne’s emerald stare narrowed.

“And where’s Tiff in all this?” There it was. The doll grimaced.

“That’s a long story.”

“When’s it not?” Daphne scoffed. She listened intently as Chucky explained the last twenty-ish years. He went into detail, explaining how Tiffany found him after his dismembering, how she wanted him to marry her and how that absolutely wasn’t in the cards at the time. He talked about how he electrocuted her in the bathtub, then the soul transferring, and the cross country road trip that somehow ended with a knocked up doll and a surprise resurrection from their gender fluid kid.

Somehow, Daphne felt herself growing jealous.

It was a weird feeling that left her all kinds of confused, but when she thought of the last twenty years for herself she felt… hollow. She wanted to rekindle some sort of love, feel the same burning passion she felt with Chuck with someone else. The closest she had gotten was when she was the third in a throuple out in Santa Carla, which even that didn’t last. She didn’t like staying up all night and sleeping all day.

Then of course there was Tess.

“Anyway, she swapped bodies with Jennifer Tilly and took the kids, but then we got back together and she helped me terrorize the Pierce’s one last time. Shipped me right to their house. I ended up sending Sarah’s kid to the nuthouse and from there I possessed her.” He stopped for a second, his brow furrowing, forehead wrinkling. “Then that fuckin’ exorcism happened.”

Daphne was still taken back at the mention of Sarah Pierce. That was a name she hadn’t heard in a while, and man was she pissed when she heard about it the first time. He wasn’t even the one to tell her… it was Tiff.

He shook his head. “Anyway, Tiff broke me outta the nuthouse and helped me build an army of, well, me. I said something, she got pissed off and took my head off, and well here we are. I haven’t spoken to her in a year or so. I did hold her at gunpoint when I was Nica not too long ago but that didn’t last long.”

“Sounds about right.” Was all she could muster. That hollow feeling in her chest came back and weighed heavily on her. She felt the lump in her throat as her mind repeated the same thing over and over again: you will never be the first choice.

There was a part of her that fought it though, the more naive part of her mind that somehow survived through it all. He probably stuck around with her cause it was convenient, it said, she was the one to find him and bring him back. Daphne sighed. You made it hard to find you, remember?

She wanted to snap back at the invisible voice, to tell it that he didn’t even try before all this, but with the risk of looking insane and vulnerable in front of Chucky she chose not to.

They sat in silence while she pondered the possibilities, the logistics of it all, and she could feel his blue eyes on her even when she turned her back. Luckily she knew as long as she had her amulet there were no risks of her being killed and waking up in a doll like Tiff, and she missed Chucky as much as she hated to admit it… maybe a road trip would be fun?

The strawberry blonde looked back at the doll.

“Fine. I’ll take you.” She said finally, and a large smile broke out on the doll’s face.

“Yes! I promise, doll, you won’t regret this.” He hopped off of the couch, standing at his full 3 foot height. “It’ll be just like old times, Daphne and Chucky.”

⛋⛋⛋⛋⛋

She was being led somewhere downtown, her hand held tightly in the warm grip of her boyfriend as they made their way down sprawling sidewalks. She was in her cutest date outfit, face done up in dark makeup and platinum hair in two ponytails. Her large boots made it hard for her to keep up with him.

It was fall, and in her short skirt she was freezing her ass off, but she’d never say anything. She wanted to look cute for him.

Grey skies hung over their heads, making the tall buildings of Chicago look much darker than they usually did. It wasn’t like Eddie to take her out in the middle of the day, but he said he wanted to show her something. She had lied to her parents, saying she was going to the mall with Miranda, and she found the act of sneaking around like that thrilling. She only hoped Miranda wouldn’t call the house and spoil everything.

He led her to an old apartment building, up a few flights of stairs, and to an old, splintered door. He knocked twice and waited for what felt like an eternity. There was a sound on the other side of the door like someone was undoing a few locks, and then they were greeted by the face of a woman with platinum blonde hair. It matched Daphne’s own hair. The woman’s dark eyes scanned over both of them, and just as Eddie went to step forward she slammed the door in his face.

Daphne furrowed her brow in confusion, thinking maybe they were at the wrong apartment offhandedly as her eyes wandered from the door to the rundown halls of the building. The beige paint on the walls was peeling and the carpet they stood on was covered in stains. It looked like it hadn’t been vacuumed in ages, and the bearding had been thinned so much it was almost down to the mat. Somewhere in the distance she could hear a baby crying.

The woman reappeared with an irritated expression.

“Eddie, get in here.” Her voice was high pitched and almost whisper-like, but Daphne could hear the annoyance in her tone. Eddie stepped forward, Daphne’s hand still tightly in his. The woman shook her head. “No, she stays outside.”

The duo looked at each other, but all Eddie could do was shrug.

“Sorry.” He said, letting go of her hand. “Gimme a second, ‘kay? I promise you won’t be out here all day.” And with that he disappeared behind the old door.

Daphne suddenly felt all too exposed in that hallway. She had no idea where she was, or who was in the building, and there she was standing in front of this door which likewise had people she didn’t know inside. She figured these were friends of Eddie’s, but the way the woman looked at her, the way she wasn’t immediately let inside… it filled her with an uneasy feeling.

Years later she would look back on this moment and she would beg herself to leave - to listen to that feeling and get as far away as possible. There was a darkness behind that door and she knew all too well that it would swallow her if she stayed where she was.

But she did stay.

After a few minutes she sighed and sat down beside the door, bringing her knees to her chest so she could rest her head. She was tired, a late night before all of this really wasn’t a great idea. She could see the chipped, black nail polish on her nails and began to absentmindedly pick at it, hoping she could remove a majority of it and repaint them later.

A few more minutes ticked by slowly before Eddie peeked his head out from the doorway, looking down at her with that boyish charm that attracted her in the first place. “Hey Daph, you can come in now.”

She let him lead her through the door into the dimly lit apartment. The walls were a turquoise color with white trim that was turning an odd shade of yellow. The lamps in the living room gave off a soft orange hue that made the place seem a lot cozier than its tenants. Now she could see the woman in full, and she wore a simple black dress with a red, cropped leather jacket. She was standing beside a man with long, dark hair, and his back was turned to them.

“So, yeah, this is Daphne.” Daph gave a small, shy wave. Eddie turned back to her. “Daph, this is Tiffany and-”

The man finally turned around, his blue eyes meeting Daphne’s green and suddenly she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. His hair was curly, and it spilled almost perfectly over his shoulders. He wore a plain, white t-shirt that was tucked neatly into his black slacks. She found herself taken by his sharp jawline and perfectly sculpted cheekbones. He walked over slowly, hands in his pockets.

“This is Charles. He goes by Chucky now.” She wished she never met him - truly she did. Yet, that day she found herself swooning over him. He hardly said a word to her the entire time, merely watching her with intense eyes as she listened to Eddie and sometimes Tiffany.

Charles sat across from her in an armchair, and beside him on the arm of the chair was Tiffany. Daphne, at first, found Tiffany to be nice enough. She was outgoing and complemented Daph’s outfit, and she seemed enthralled with Eddie’s story of how he met Daph. The younger woman couldn’t help but notice he left out her age.

Sure, her birthday was in a few weeks, but that didn’t change the fact that she was seventeen now.

Eddie stopped rambling for a moment, looking at an almost zoned out Charles. “You okay over there?” He asked finally, snapping the older man out of it.

“Yeah, yeah.” Charles began, his voice gruff. It nearly sent shivers down Daphne’s spine. “I was just thinkin’ Daphne would look great with red hair.”

Tiffany’s eyes lit up.

“Wait, Chucky, you’re so right!” She exclaimed. She hopped onto her feet and traipsed over to Daphne, taking her blonde, curly locks into her hands. “I can dye this for you if you want.”

Daphne never broke eye contact with Charles. There was a look in his eye, something unreadable. It looked like he was encouraging her to say yes. She stumbled over her words.

“Y-yeah. Sure. I’d like that.” She ripped her gaze away from him and met eyes with Tiffany, smiling awkwardly at her.

She had no idea what she was getting herself into. She wished she left the hallway when she had the chance.

#charles lee ray #charles lee ray x reader #charles lee ray x oc #chucky #chucky x oc #chucky x reader #chucky series spoilers

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little-bitty-froggy · 1 year

Note

Hi froggy I wanted to ask if you could write about Frank and Eddie taking care of a little reader after they have a nightmare?

I was hoping the reader could use a bottle and pacifier if that’s ok. You can also add headcannons if you want.Thank you!

Cg: Frank Frankly, Eddie Dear.

Little: reader

Age: 1

TW: During the nightmare there's mentions of being tired up, knives, blood, etc.

It was a wonderful Frieday night, around 6:30 ish on October. Y/n was going over to Eddie's house for a sleepover, They were going to meet up with Frank halfway but he was running late. Y/n promised themselves that they weren't going to regress tonight and have a “normal” evening.

Y/n walked up to Eddie's house and saw small bats hung from the roof. Y/n thought it was quite cute, they enjoyed the spooky session as much as their little selves did.

*Knock knock*

Eddie opens the door. “why hello Y/n! Please come in!”

Eddie was in black pajamas that had bat prints on his pajama pants and bat slippers.

hi Eddie! Y/n says very excitedly.

Hello squirt. Eddie smiles hugging me. “Ok so I have the movie, games, fort aaaaand snacks ready, all we need is Frank. He should be here any moment now… say weren't you and frank meeting up?!

“Oh yeah, he said he was running late.” y/n places there bag by the couch.

“Oh, well he better be here soon or he's going to miss the time of his life!” Eddie has a huge smile on him face as he gets some snacks and drinks.

*Knock knock*

“*Gasp* EEEE that must be him!!!”

Eddie swings the door open to see Frank in a matching pajamas. They both swing into each other's arms. *Eddie laughs*” please come in, Y/n is already here and I'm about to start up a movie!”

“Ooh that sounds fun, what movie?” “Y/n picked it out, I think it was Chucky~? I'm not sure. Oh but please come in, it's quite cold!”

Y/n looks over to see Frank and Eddie walk into the living room.

“Hi, Frank!!” y/n smiles. *gasp*” You guys have matching pajamas?!” y/n wines. “Meany”

Frank and Eddie smile giggling. “Is someone getting cranky already?!” Frank asks in a playful yet modest tone. Y/n protests. “What! Nonononono!!! You guys are lucky that you have something to match and I don't… well anyway we have the movie up!”

Eddie rolls his eyes and chuckles,” Yeah okay.”

Eddie dims the lights and they cuddle up next to each other in the couch while y/n chooses to sit on the opposite side. When they started the movie, everything was fine but when y/n saw the fall they wanted to turn the movie off seeing as Eddie and Frank were happy and enjoying the movie, they didn't want to ruin it for them.

Y/n slowly got out a blanket and rapt it around themselves like a cocoon. “I'll be right back... I'm just going into the kitchen for a sec…”

Y/n leaves and once they reach the kitchen they got an eerie feeling that someone was watching them. They felt small but cept on pushing it aside. Y/n then grabbed a drink and headed back to the couch.

“Sorry about that” “It's ok” Frank says. It's now more then half way threw the movie and y/n is now fighting uncontrollably but no one seems to notice. Y/n spaces out to try and spread up time on there end.

“Y/n?” a can't voice can be heard “Y/n~?”

“Y/N?!!!”

“HUH!, oh it's just you frank”

“Is everything ok? You where spaced out.” Frank says in the most concerning voice he can make with out it seeming monitored. “Oh I'm fine, just got bored of the movie is all.” y/n pulls out a weak smile and Frank buys it.

[Time skip cause most of this is just about the movie and I'm lazy so now they are getting ready for bed]

Eddie pulls out a blow-up mattress and sets it up. Y/n then places their pillow and blanket neatly on the bed while Frank and Eddie are snuggling up on Eddie's bed. They end up falling asleep moments later. “Good night guys!” Y/n wishes whole getting cosy. “Good night Y/n” Eddie and frank say in sink.

[nightmare :)]

Y/n wakes up in in a dark trapped down to a table. “H-Huh where? Where am I?” Y/n trees to move. “What the?! ”H-HEY MMMMMH, WHO EVER YOU ARE LET ME GO!!!”

“Nah uuuh” creepy chuckling can be heard from a dark side of the room. A small creepy doll comes out with a knife.

“H-HUH!!!” tears stream down Y/ns face. “No!! NONONONONONO!!!”

Small sobs can be can be heard from y/ns side of the room.

Eddie grones. “Y/n? Frank?” Eddie wakes up frank. “Frank!”

“Huh” Frank wakes up. “Y/n?!”

Y/n jults awake trying to grasp there breath. Y/n starts Sobbing.

“Hey hey! Shh shh shh, hunny its ok!” Eddie tries to calm them down. Y/ns sobs slow down a bit, they then jump into Eddies arms.

“Shh sh its ok hunny. “ eddie rubs Y/n’s back.

“Frank? Can you make Y/n a bottle while i calm them down?” “Right away!” Frank gets out of bed and speed walks to the kitchen to make a quick worm bottle of angel milk. Frank walks back to the bedroom to see Y/n rapped up in a blanket being cradled by Eddie. “Aww they looks so peaceful~!” Frank says in aww as he shuts the bedroom door slightly. He sits on the bed.Eddie hands over Y/n as frank starts Feeding them. When the bottle is done, Frank hands Y/n a Pacifier and they gently take it. Small suckles can be heard from them. Eddie gently puts Y/n down in the middle of the bed while Frank was on the right and Eddie would be on the left. They ended uo cuddling while they fell asleep.

Im REEEEAAAAALLY sorry that its almost a year since i posted and did any requests. Ive been in a rough patch.

#sfw agere #welcome home #welcome home agere #little reader #agere reader #frank frankly #eddie dear

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kettlequills · 1 year

Text

fic: breaking skin

hi tiffany enjoyers, have a tiny little tiff-centric piece. tw self harm/cutting, canon typical violence, canon typical fatphobia, implied/referenced sex, nica!chucky, c.3.5k. on a03 here.

'“It’s better when you make it look like an accident,” she says, and doesn’t think about bubble-baths and burnt flesh water-swollen, the stink that chased them out the creaking door Tiffany’d meant to fix and now never will – much.'

Tiffany takes Jennifer’s body and undresses in the mirror. She wanders hands over an arching neck, soft hips, curving calves, cellulite, stretch-marks and moisturiser-smooth skin. Her sensitive nerves ache in different places when she digs her new-sharp nails in for a pinch. She stares at it until she convinces herself she recognises the birthmark on her arm and her face creasing with pleasure, a frown, a smile, doesn’t look wrong anymore.

They looked the same in that movie; Jennifer stepped into Tiffany like she is just a dress, makeup, and a fake tattoo, and made it look natural. Familiar, easy as breathing.

Tiffany pokes the face – her face – in the mirror and wonders how she did it.

---

The early days, she keeps Jennifer’s loose black waves. Wears her like a dress, practises the way she moves, watches her movies until she dreams the lines her voice echoes always half-a-beat out of time. Goes through the whole closet and pitches the fine clothes everywhere, gets the bank to change her pin to something she can remember, forgets it anyway. Avoids watching the Chucky movie. Keeps her electronics on the other side of the house as her bath. Locks the door when she goes to sleep. Screens every gift and card the twins get.

Throws herself into the kids. Glen, Glenda, the shadow of the father they don’t know.

It’s supposed to be better. Even when she wakes with good dreams, nightmares and past lives lurk on her tongue like poison. The press wants to know everything, crawl up inside her life like beetles. Jennifer’s agent gets angry when Tiffany says the wrong thing and brings them flocking like vultures. She fucks up interviews and tanks readings.

She says, offer only. They scoff. She leaves with burning cheeks and kills a man on the way out, quick, lethal, efficient.

---

She ruins Jennifer’s body. Takes out her knife in the bathroom and kisses the dimpled thighs and warm, breathing stomach, traces patterns and dagger-lines until her spirit feels rinsed clean and her soul has settled into the animal meat and bone. Licks it up after and tucks her file back between her breasts.

She dyes her hair religiously. Jennifer’s pitch-black is stubborn, cropping up like weeds in her perfect gold curls. She used to go ginger-brown when the dye was fading out, knew it was time to bend her head over the sink and wrap her hair in sweet-smelling dye when crimson fades in the sun-shimmers like bruises on peach skins. Now darkness spills from the crown of her head like nightfall, and Tiffany pushes it back with blistering bleach that burns her scalp.

She leaves herself a lipstick-kiss on the mirror.

---

“Jen,” says Joey, eyes melting with a look she can’t bear. He strokes down her shoulders, all the new scars like silver slashes of moonlight. She asks him to bite her until she bleeds. He is too gentle, like he doesn’t really want to hurt her, like he doesn’t dream of killing her, not like Chucky used to.

She scrapes her nails down his chest and tips him down into her expensive bed, fucks him until he can’t keep his eyes open. They don’t complain about this for long; she’s come back hungry, violent, texts random numbers plugged in the phone she inherited and sees what comes of it. Holds knives to the throats of stars and lets them think her teasing with their mortality is just a new kink. A new fantasy she has to breathe, a new mask she has to play, something that only those who have a part-time affair with the truth seem to grasp. She thinks maybe she loves them all, herself least.

In the morning, he texts her the fancy number of a discreet therapist, exclusively for the glossy clientele of Hollywood, and she screens his calls.

She’s not crazy. Her soul’s just itching against the skin.

She eats and eats, curled up on the tile floor of a kitchen that feels too big for a trailer-girl, like it’s gonna swallow up and not taste her on the way down. She puts on weight, remembers effortless, sexy Jennifer swaying with herself and her unknowing audience with a chocolate bar in the prop room, prods the extra layer of fat. Remembers Chucky saying, “Y’know, I always figured you’d let yourself go.”

“It’s normal for women my age,” says Tiffany aloud, and then forgets her birthday when the kids ask.

---

In the days she drinks and eats to pass the time, and at night Jennifer teaches her how to gamble. Tries to, anyway, Jennifer bluffs like lies fall out easy as air, sees the cracks in Tiffany’s face like she’s reading her mind. It’s the only time the little doll seems alive, when she’s raking in the chips, dealing the cards with an easy snap despite small hands that don’t bend right. Tiffany gets drunk, Jennifer eats her now-tiny bodyweight in chocolate winnings, and they both smoke until the gritty clouds billow out the cracked window like hands reaching for salvation. Bloated and sleepy, mind-spinning into a little oblivion and thoroughly beaten at poker, Tiffany slumps into the birdcage until the bars jab her ribs.

“You’re not good at this,” Jennifer observes, and Tiffany rolls her eyes.

“Shut up,” she says, “It’s easier for you. You’re plastic now.”

She googles engines and shows Jennifer how to replace carburettors, how to check the water at the pump hasn’t been contaminated, recites the bylaws of trespass and how to bend them for a night’s berth, how to make a four-course meal in a shitty microwave and a gas-stove off melamine plates.

Jennifer’s wrong-coloured eyes glaze over, numb. Tiffany thinks there’s maybe more specks of brown in the artificial green than there used to be, and wonders if Jennifer or her is responsible. If it’s some infection of them both, if there’s some trace of Jennifer’s soul not quite scrubbed out of her body. Maybe that fragment is what howls emptiness when she fights the screaming doll into her lap and curls her own arms around her into a cage of flesh. Maybe that’s just Tiffany, drowned, folded up and shoved inside a body that has stretched but not quite healed around her soul. She never feels more like a dead thing than when she holds Jennifer close and the sundered edges inside of the body she wears start to bleed like it can feel what it’s missing.

Jennifer’s too good an actress to have to tell Tiffany she thinks she’s trash. She does it in the way she explains the words she uses that she knows Tiffany doesn’t understand, clever, sophisticated language, educated – erudite.

So Tiffany whispers sharply into the trembling doll’s ear how to dispose of bodies, how to axe them into small parts and melt the bones in acid, to scramble a trail so no one can find a trace. Muses aloud how none of Jennifer’s friends know her as well as Jennifer thought.

“It’s better when you make it look like an accident,” she says, and doesn’t think about bubble-baths and burnt flesh water-swollen, the stink that chased them out the creaking door Tiffany’d meant to fix and now never will – much.

–--

The kids are gone to start the glittering lives Jennifer's wealth gives them and she's all alone. Not for long - Chucky is there to snap her up with the inevitability of creeping death itself. She goes back, of course she does. He wants her, admires her. She cleans up his little messes, brews trouble at Harrogate for a quick girl who seems to see through her immediately but is helpless to stop her. She makes his plans fall into place. He needs her and she loves him.

Yet she’s in the bathroom of the hotel room where they met, and the cracked green tiles have sucked her into memory. She’s retraced her steps like the past thirty years have meant nothing, another woman’s body slaughtered in their lovenest.

Her file is sharp as a needle, surgical, she sits in the bathtub, so it’ll be easier to wash away. Before, when she’d get done, Chucky’d lick up the blood from her thighs and spread her open, groan at the taste of her, iron and salt on his tongue. Tiffany would feel alive, heart bounding in her ribs, body pulsing and singing, the pleasure and the pain and his devotion slinging her into bliss.

But the cuts aren’t anchoring her like they should; the tears still bubble like toxic waste but won’t come out, air hurts like bleach on her raw cheeks. Blood dribbles up and pulses down her legs like licking tongues but there’s no delight, no release.

Chucky’s back and she’s home, in his arms inside Nica, touching Tiffany and seeing her for exactly what she’s always been, the living-dead lover-killer. Skin on skin, bodies inside bodies, fucking her until she can’t breathe with a young woman’s vigour, like when they were new and in love for the very first time. That first kiss felt so good, but the emptiness is back like the roots of her hair. She doesn’t know why she wants to cry, tells herself, she wants relief , to let the pain wash into her and wring her out.

“Tiff,” Chucky bellows from the sofa, “Tiff, where’s my fucking beers? I’m thirsty out here!”

“Shaddup, Chucky!” she shrieks, “ Choke!”

“Fuck off, Tiff!” His boots drum on the carpet, coming towards the bathroom; pure adrenaline shorts down Tiffany’s spine like a livewire and she grabs the file, holding it in front of herself. The cuts on her legs sting against the fabric of her pretty designer dress. The bathtub is slippery with drops of her blood.

He shoulders into the bathroom, Nica’s pretty face twisted up in a scowl, lips drawn right up to the gums in a fervid, fiery anger that makes the vein on her forehead throb.

“Fuck’s got into you, huh?” he demands, “Haven’t fed you enough or somethin’?”

His eyes track down her body; he notices the blood. His face shifts funnily, some cross between indigestion and horror. “Aw, shit,” he says, and sits down heavily on the toilet.

Tiffany’s heart thuds hard in her ears. She stares at him, eyes wild and face hot, dizziness wet and red between her toes.

“Goddamn it, Tiff,” says Chucky, quieter now. The anger in his voice is soft venom rather than cackling fire, all the easier to swallow. His blue eyes glitter like cracked windows, distorted mirrors for maimed souls. “Where’d you put the first aid kit?”

She points, under the sink, only a few steps away. Watches him like a tiger, striped red, waiting for him to turn his back.

“Fetch it here, huh?” he asks, heart-shaped face grimacing sickly inside his golden lion’s mane, “Let’s clean you up.”

She brings him the first aid kit and perches on the side of the bath, hiking her skirt up and spreading her legs. She thinks about the fact he can see her silky underwear and fantasises suddenly about him touching her, smearing his hands through the blood to ease her panties to one side. Heat follows the path of the cooling, sticky blood back up her thighs. She thinks of him sitting down in front of her by the bathtub and using his teeth while she fists her hands in his wavy, knotty hair. She pulses, she wants, she hopes.

“Do you like it, sweetface?” she asks him through lowered lashes. Coquettish, she kicks her heels against the bathtub.

“You’re always pretty, Tiff,” he mumbles back, preoccupied with popping the kit and tearing open the alcohol wipes. He spits each word like they’re sickness itself, an undercurrent in the tremble of his knuckles that makes her ache.

“Awh,” says Tiffany, cradling her chin on her hands, heart warm and full and wanting, “Baby.”

He’s gentle when he starts wiping the blood up and cleaning the cuts, but his smile is a sharp slash when she laughs breathily at the sting and squirms in pleasure. He smooths each plaster on carefully, making sure the sticky edge won’t adhere to broken skin. Circles his jagged, bitten-broken nails into the tender skin under her knee like he’s thinking of digging them in, a rough little pinch just to make her yelp. She bites her lip, hoods her eyes, lifts her feet into his lap.

His nails chase over her skin like the blunt edges of razors. He remembers himself, twists, grabs a wipe. Starts cleaning her, dropping the blotchy red-flowered wipes into the bloody bath. There’s blood between her toes from when she stood, when she thought he might be coming to hurt her. Nica has such soft skin, softer than Chucky’s had ever been when he was alive. His delicate hands feel warm and renewing against her body, and it has never felt more hers than when he touches her, when he’s just like this.

“Any more?” he murmurs, glancing over her body to check like he can see under her dress, and her heart melts at the look on that pretty, stolen face. She thinks maybe she can tell herself it’s obsession, teetering halfway between love and rage, maybe even concern.

She shakes her head, now trying not to cry. If she starts blubbering all the week’s saved up tears, she won’t stop for hours, and she doesn’t want to ruin this moment. She wants to freeze it in ice, tear off its wings and press it into her heart, swallow it whole so it can never run away.

“Feel better, Tiff?” he asks her when he’s finished, and she nods.

Recklessly, she hugs him, ignores how he goes stiff like he doesn’t expect her love. Her arms around his shoulders curl around him, a cage, a tether, a bond, trying to force them even closer, killer soul to soul, her body to Nica’s chest. When she presses her face into his neck, whispering waxy-lipstick kisses against the underside of his jaw, he smells like cheap cigarettes and hotel alcohol, the impermanence of their young graveyard days. Immortal and grinning, Chucky stains the messy slip-knots of Nica’s hair with ash and old, matted blood, then drowns the reek of it under cologne Tiffany buys in high-class scents like malted-wood and honeybee-slaughter.

“Are you still thirsty?” she asks, contritely, “I can get you some beer, or some water? Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you some dinner?”

“Aw, nah,” he says, his storming eyes shifting away, “I’m alright. … You should probably get some iron, though, huh?”

“Later,” she pouts, snuggling into him.

Tentatively, he slides his hands round her waist. She wiggles her hips, hopefully, but he doesn’t get the message and squeeze her ass, lift her onto his lap and play with her like she wants. Chucky’s been a little slow with her since he came back, sometimes, but he’s getting better at figuring it out, acting natural. He doesn’t always know when to pull her close, but at least he doesn’t remember when to push her away, lets her lead their bodies and souls making one on the heart-shaped bed inside Tiffany’s chest. She licks a stripe up his neck. Wants to eat his shiver whole.

“Shall we go to bed, sweetface?” she asks him, a little nervously, eager to impress, and Chucky hesitates. His beautiful, fractured eyes flicker to the door, like he’s measuring how long it would take him to get there. When he breathes, the muscles in his arms tense up.

Tiffany slides her hands down under his thighs, lifts. She is smart enough to heft with her legs, not her back, and Chucky’s feet swing thoughtlessly as she picks him up. He yelps and clutches onto her, his tight grip on her shoulder setting her skin aflame.

“Hey, Tiff, what the fuck?” he complains. “Whaddaya think I am, a sack of carrots?”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring his bitching as she carries him to the bed. Sometimes, she wonders why she puts up with all this, maybe Nica would be more polite. (Of course she would be, she thinks, sorry at once, Nica is an angel. Their angel, her angel, deserves anything Tiffany can give her, except freedom.)

“What the hell do you eat to make you so strong?” he huffs, scrambling up onto his arms. When she flutters around him pointedly, he shuffles back on the bed to give her space to sit down next to him.

Pleased, Tiffany blushes a little at his question. She likes that he thinks of her as strong, likes to be called that much more than fat, even if she knows Chucky only says it like a bad thing when he’s being a dick. She likes even more that when they’re sat next to each other, they’re close enough to touch.

“ Sweetface.”

“What?” Daringly, he slaps her bicep, light enough not to hurt, but enough that her body jiggles in response.

Tiffany giggles. He gives her a smile, rakish and darling like a dying man’s last slice of sunset, and she wants to kiss it so badly she hurts.

“What is this, huh? Where’re you hiding the sixpack?”

He pokes her belly’s ticklish spots, and Tiffany squeals, slapping at Nica’s scarred-up hands.

“ Stop,” she whines, still laughing, and is a little surprised when he holds his hands up and obeys, snorting.

Something about it, the control, maybe, or the way he doesn’t push it, just ignites her, and she has to have him. In one move, Tiffany rolls over him, wraps her arms around his waist and drags him down over her body until he’s half-lying on her, their breasts pressing together and their faces so close their breath mingles. A tingling runs through her teeth like lightning, like electricity in the water, with none of the pain.

His eyes dart down, checking where his legs lie, then with nonchalant possessiveness he shifts his shoulders and nudges Tiffany’s thigh wider. Delighted at his breath-stealing hands on her body, she lets him rearrange her so his leg won’t press against her cuts. When he goes to sit up, her arms lock around his neck. She needs to keep him close.

“Ah, ah, sweetface,” Tiffany whispers hotly, her nails digging into his nape, “Where are you going?”

“C’mon, hey, Tiff.” He tries a fleeting smile, playing for time, but it dies under the light of her intense stare.

He licks his lips, desperate, and she shudders under him, squeezes her legs around his hips. The lines of cuts on her legs burn, but it’s nothing to the burning inside her. He touches her encircling arm like he’s thinking of pushing it off and leaving her alone on the bed. But even as he glares down at her, she knows she sees want blooming in his dilating pupils.

There’s something molten in those eyes, compassion, hate, fear, lust, a hard and poisonous cocktail that makes her more dizzy than any blood-loss, makes her hungry for the flashes of tiredness, tenderness, ambrosia itself, between the cracks. His eye twitches; it’s his tell. He’s bluffing, like he’s afraid to gamble and lose. Or maybe he’s just afraid of her, hates her; Chucky has a part-time heart these days, one Tiffany just won’t resist.

“Don’t go, do it,” she breathes. Lets her neck fall lax, lets her eyes lid, lets herself uncurl beneath him like an offering on the altar. Hopes he’ll bite her. Hopes he’ll make it hurt. Hopes he’ll take the gamble, fall into the addiction, go back to craving her as badly as she craves him, in any body with Nica’s leonine snarl as he poses above her like a hunter with their kill. In this stolen body heavy and real on hers, in a crime scene of sex-stained sheets, hotel-plasters and Tiffany’s pretty white dress. “Do it to me, now.”

Anything that’s worked once is worth a try.

“Fucking – God,” he hisses, like he doesn't know what to say, eyes following the undulation of her body to her chest. She arches to give him a better view, her heart fluttering, begging, pleading.

His gaze lands on the cold glint of bloody steel just visible in the valley of her breasts where she hasn’t bothered to tuck it away properly, and his lips flatten, his desire flickers. His hands tighten, scarred knuckles straining white; she wants to kiss the tension away and bite it in anew.

“No sharps in bed today, huh?” Tiffany purrs, eager to show him she’s noticed, she can be considerate, she can be sweet too. “I can work with that, honey.”

She grinds down into the bed, fans her nails over his back and digs in. Smirks and shudders her shoulders so her breasts bounce and the file slides out a little more. Her hips roll. He grits his teeth, plants his weight on one hand, grabs the nail file with the other. Each movement is jerky, zombielike, a plastic doll’s juddering in a leaping-smooth puppet.

“Okay. … Tiffany.”

He says her name like a curse, an invocation; it never sounds better out of his mouth than from these lips.

The file glitters in his hand like the moon. For one searing electric second, she thinks he might even stab her. She even sucks in a breath to tell him he can (what’s a little more blood and gore between lovers? Second and first thoughts are for losers), and she would never refuse him when he’s like this . But then he tosses it over his shoulder, and instead his hands tangle in her hair.

Her prepared breath comes out a needy whimper. His grip messes up the sprayed blonde and the black roots; she feels his breath swirl hot and still reeking of cigarette ash over her chin. He cups her jaw with a twisted darkness in his aching, hungry eyes, a look that makes her wonder if he thinks of choking her, if he wants to hurt her, if he wants to kiss her. She moans.

She is alive, her heart pounding against the bones of her wrist, reaching out to him through the prisons of their bodies. He sees through her, sees all of her, the mess of Tiffany crammed into a body not her own, sparking and bright where they meet, mangled and pristine, skin on skin.

“Kiss me?” she implores, and Nica does.

#tiffany valentine #nica pierce #charles lee ray #chucky #child's play #childs play #chucky series #inkwrites #tiffanica #niffany #tiffnica #chiffany #nica!chucky #my fic breaking skin

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lovekenney · 11 months

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tag game!! @bubblegumbarbie33 tagged me in hers!!

name: omg yall i have a online name and that is alex, but it is very basic lol. a few ppl call me carmen but most ppl just call me alex or lola.

zodiac sign: ok so ive been told im a gemini cancer cusp but ive also beem told im just a gemini or just a cancer. i myself think i am a cancer lol. my bday is june 21 (guys i have the same birthday as the lana del rey.)

personality type: ive taken the test lmao but i cannot remmeber. okok i looked it up and i am a Entrepreneur ESTP-A / ESTP-T whatever that means! anyway me and madonna have the same how cool is that??

before we hit the road, what snacks are you bringing along on this trip? - we go to the gas station and i pick up the same thing almost every time, unwrapped starbursts, a propel drink (prob watermelon) and whatever other candy i decide i need.

navigator gets to pick the music so what song are you turning on? - it really depends. if im with myself itll probaly be summer bummer lana del rey (or really any song off of btd or paradise) but if im with other ppl we gotta get hyped so baby got back.

what universe from a fantasy TV show would you like to visit? - new chucky series. jennifer likes women so i have a chance.

what about fantasy movies? - this is a lame af answer but i dont really watch fantasy stuff so prob leprechaun. cause you know jennifer aniston.

okay, how about sci-fi TV shows? - s3 stranger things, let me work with steve and robin at scoops ahoy.

Sci-fi movie universe? - under the dome. i wouldnt wanna stay for long but i wanna touch the dome and see what it feels like.

any other TV show or movie universes you'd like to swing by before we move on? - let me get a burger from bobs burgers. also i would like to go to shameless and hit on debbie.

okay hold on to your butts we're switching gears to the fanfic universes. Tell me which fanfic universe we're visiting first? -

Saltbox House On The Coast - Chapter 1 - Keyhouse - Outer Banks (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

ARCHIVEOFOUROWN.ORG

let me on this damn ship. (@keyh0use <3)

cool, do you have one more you'd like to stop at before we head home?

Silent as Sunlight - Chapter 1 - Pigzxo - Shameless (US) [Archive of Our Own]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

ARCHIVEOFOUROWN.ORG

i js wanna watch ian and mickey being cute (not in a creepy way js like they are so cute)

alright, on our way out of fanfic land you get to snag some tropes to bring home and apply to your own life, think fast!- soulmates, au, inspired by lana del rey ( @bubblegumbarbie33 props to you) meet ugly, mute cute, college.

wow, okay, hope those tropes work out for you!! our adventure has finally come to an end, where in the world am I dropping you off? - downtown Chicago. whenever it ell ppl i wanna live there they always say i only do for shameless and that is WRONG. ive always wanted to go there i belong there. ill just wander around petting all the dogs.

dont feel pressured yall butt @svetlanayevgenivna @sugar-spice-everything-vice @bees-flowers @keyh0use andd all my other mutuals i actually talk to have been tagged by @bubblegumbarbie33

#ok so i js copy and pasted the questions lol im so tired but i rlly wanted to do it #so no credits to me lol #this was soo fun #tag game #tagging game #tag meme #this was fun #i lovedddd this #sm #shameless #debbie gallagher #under the dome #chucky #bobs burgers #outerbanks

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uncool-hero · 8 months

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Chucky LGBTQ Headcannons

Part One:

Tiffany Valentine (she/her) - panromantic demisexual

Tiffany has dated and been romantic with both men and women. She dated Damien while Chucky was gone, was romantic/sensual with Delilah when Chucky asked her too at their first meeting, dated Chucky as a man, a doll, and a woman (Nica’s body), and was in love with Nica when she wasn’t being possessed by Chucky.

I think she was in love with both Chucky and Nica at different points in time. She literally waited ten years to be able to get all of the pieces of Chucky’s doll body back together to bring him back to life so she could be with him again. And with Nica, after “dating” her originally because part of Chucky’s soul was in her body, she eventually tells Nica:

"You see, the thing is, Nica. I spend some time with you, I spend some time with Chucky and I gotta say, I like you better."

and

"Sometimes when we're together, I see you looking at me and I know it's you. It's not Chucky. It's you, and I live for those moments. I wanna have those moments all the time."

She loved Chucky first, then Nica.

And she doesn’t really care what gender the person is, she just loves who she loves. Even when Chucky was fully in control of Nica’s body at the end of Cult of Chucky, she tells him that she doesn’t mind and that she kind of likes him being in a woman’s body.

Now, as far as her being demisexual, when she was with Damien, she never slept with him, and she says:

“I’ll kill anybody, but I’ll only sleep with somebody I love.”

As someone on the ace spectrum myself, that line has made me headcannon her as demisexual since I first watched Bride of Chucky.

I also think that Tiff is probably very educated on different sexualities and genders, because when Glen/Glenda told her and Chucky that they wanted to be both a girl and a boy, before getting cut off by Chucky, she starts to explain that some people may identify that way. That movie took place in 2004, and not near as many people then were aware of nonbinary identities. But despite being educated on sexualities and genders, I don’t think that Tiffany really feels the need to label her sexuality. For her, it’s just who she is.

Anyway, I’ll probably make another one of these soon because I’m way too invested into the Chucky franchise and the lgbtq representation we get in it :))

#chucky #chucky series #chucky season 1 #chucky season 2 #chucky season 3 #childs play #bride of chucky #seed of chucky #tiffany valentine #charles lee ray #nica pierce #lgbtq #lgbt pride #pride #headcannons #lgbtq headcanons

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ozimagines · 8 months

Note

Ok so say Peter didn't die and by some miracle he got released from Oz early, do you have any post release head canons for Peter Schibetta?

Oooooooh interesting! I have no problem undoing anything from season 666 lol. Like I love parts of it, but the other part of the time I’m like… Tom, buddy, you ok?

Post Oz Peter Schibetta

When he gets out, the sun hurts his eyes. He finds he didn’t miss the sun at all.

He missed the moon though, and his first night out is staring at it, watching the light break through the darkness in the sky. 🌖

He waits a few days before going anywhere or doing anything.

His family (not that “family”) throws a party for his release but it’s bittersweet. His mom and dad aren’t there. Dino isn’t there. Lenny is there but only because he feels obligated. Several cousins twice removed. The only person he’s happy to see is Joey, who woke up from his coma and got released. Without someone he grew up with to talk to, I think he would have self destructed.

He doesn’t open up at first. It’s almost like he wants to pretend Oz was a bad dream. But it wasn’t. He has the scars to prove it.

He stays awake at night. He’s afraid of the dark now. Even though what happened happened in the light of day, he still fears what he can’t see. Nightmares and terrors.

He can never be who he was again. Ever. That man died in Oz. Peter pours one out for the old him every time he goes out. Think he uses drinking a little too much in the beginning.

“I’m fine, OK?” -he lied

When he does go out, he finds the world has changed too. He doesn’t know any popular songs or artists. He barely recognizes the architecture. Even the clothes are different.

He catches his face in a window. He looks so much more gaunt than he was, cheekbones more pronounced now, stomach thin, hair wild and five o’clock shadow showing. He does shave, but it makes him look like a person, and lord knows he doesn’t feel like a person right now.

He throws a pity party for himself for a week, intermittently crying and sometimes just disassociating and staring at a wall. The person who pulls him out of that pity party is Joey.

He finds Peter drinking in a bar they used to sneak into as kids. He comes up to Peter and lays down some harsh truths.

“You got out. Dino didn’t. You owe it to him.”

Peter figures he’s right. He’d live for all the guys in Oz who didn’t. ❤️‍🩹

Peter gets up the next day and actually dresses himself. He combs his hair and shaves his face. It makes him feel better to be clean.

It takes him a while to get a therapist, but he does. He remembers sister Pete and Dr. Nathan, remembering how gentle they were. His new shrink is Cheryl, a kind Bostonian Italian lady who understands his childhood.

She’s kind but firm with him, which is everything he needs.

One day she tells him the story of the cow and the buffalo.

The cow runs away when a storm is coming, and since they can’t outrun the storm, it takes twice as long for it to end. The buffalo, upon seeing a storm coming, runs directly at it, and it’s harder, but it ends quicker.

“Be the buffalo, Peter.”🥺

He gets a job. He’s an interior decorator. He knows it’s a “fag job”, but he likes rearranging spaces and making them aesthetically pleasing. It’s what he would have done if his father didn’t insist he become a “business man”.

He cuts ties with the “family”, which is okay because they didn’t want him anyway, but Peter starts cutting everyone from his life that makes it worse. The only person from the old life he keeps is Dino’s parents and Joey. He even writes to Zanghi in prison. Not Chucky though. Not after the scar on his eye.

He makes friends at work, people who all make small talk with him and don’t think he’s a disappointment.

He starts actually going out and doing everything. He’s a regular at a niche coffee shop/bookstore. The barista knows him by name, and knows his order before he asks.

“Espresso affogato and chocolate cornetto for Peter!”

He even coaches a little league soccer team. The kids love him. Look up to him. He’s a leader again.

“Coach Peter!”

He keeps his therapist and visits her every week. He even goes off his anti-depressants slowly. He accepts what happened to him; evil men hurt him, but that doesn’t define who he is. It says everything about them and nothing about him.

It doesn’t make him weak. He’s not a rape victim, he’s a rape survivor

He survived, now he has to live

He smiles now. He’s got a bright smile.

And he laughs, loudly

He gains a little weight back, which makes him extremely happy

He even goes out on a few dates, nothing special yet, but people who make him laugh and smile.

Joey and he still hand out. Joey is still in the “family”, but he never drags Peter into his shit. He’s just the only one who understands and sympathizes.

He even has sex for the first time in years. It’s an… experience. He unpacks it in therapy, but it felt nice to be touched again, and not violently. He realizes there’s a difference between sex and what happened to him. He feels safe in his own body again.

He feels more like himself now.

Peter Schibetta is okay. He’s finally okay.

Bonus: Peter digs charcuterie boards and is VERY good at making them. He makes boards that look absolutely delicious and knows how to pair everything together. It’s a talent he gets to explore now.

Author’s Note: I’ve always written Peter as a bisexual who doesn’t accept his partially gay identity. But the person I always see him doing well with is Diego from Umbrella Academy. I think Diego would protect him without judging him, and I just want my Petey baby to be happy.

#hbo oz #oz meme #peter schibetta #peter is baby #thank you for asking for this #I always wanted a chance to change Peter’s ending #he was a prick but he didn’t deserve the shit he got #maybe this ending is more hopeful than realistic… but this is Tumblr #the place where dreams come true #happy ending Peter

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barneysbigstompers · 2 months

Text

FNAF

Sonic

DDLC

Undertale (short amount of time)

Eddsworld

Unikitty

Tawog

Cof

Aof

My Littple Pont

Htf

Looney Tunes (more specifically the 2011 rendition)

Tom & Jerry (shocking)

Elevator Hitch

Dead Platw

Married in red

Cold Front (please recommend more racheldrawsthis games please)

Solarballs (shhhhhhh)

SpongeBob

South Park

Ducktales

Sally Face (Somewhat)

Creepypasta (JANE THE KILLER ON TOP RAGGHH)

Ok Ko

Murder Drones

Aphmau

Total Drama (All of them.)

Big Hero 6 (SO MUCH INCEST PLEASE IJUST WANT HIRO OCNTWNT AHHHHHH)

Descendants (all 3 I don’t like the latest ones)

Mob Psycho 100

Saiki K

SCTEAM AGHHHHHHH (1996 GRAHHHHH)

The Music Freaks

Smiling Friends

DICK FIGURES (DEAD ASS FANDOM)

Inside Out

CULT OF THE LAMB AGHHHHHHHHH

Spiderman (Soecifically ITSV and ATSV)

THE HOLLOW PLEASE I WANT SEASON 3

Smiling Critters (Idgaf if Dogday is overrated I LOVE HIM.)

Trolls

Gravity Falls 😋😋😋😋😋😋😋😋

Starters

Friday Night Funckin

The Loud House (I HAGE THIS FUCKING FANSOM)

Camp Camp

Scott Pilgrim (Comic + Anime)

Steven Universe

Dhmis

Kindergarten (olease please)

IT IT (RICHIE AND EDDIE DESTROY ME WVERYTIME AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH)

Hunter X Hunter

Spooky Month

Monster High 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Nimona (YALL SHOULDKNOW ABOUT THIS I LOVE THIS ITS SO GOOD????)

Tmnt (2012 + 2018 and maybe the 2023) I FUCKING HATE THE LIVE ACTION FROM 2010s AGHHHHHHHHHH THERES SO UGLY

Adventure Time + Fiona and Cat

Captain Underpants

Amphibia (I haven’t watched since s2 ep1 wonder what I missed 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔)

Turning Red

DSAF

inside job

Welcome 2 Hell 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

SVTFOE (I do not like Starco im so sorry I actually don’t like no ship from this show I just want a slice of life please please please ☹️☹️☹️☹️)

Moral Orel

PUSS IN BOOTS I LOVE PUSS IM BOOTS

Chucky (the movie and the television series I haven’t watched s3 tho)

FOSTERS HOME FOR IMAGINARY FRIENDS (GEAHHHHHHHHHH)

Genshin (not rlly tbh)

HETAHERS I KNEW INWA SFORGETTING SOMETHNG

did I say camp camp.

Sigh

Danganropa I GUESS

Anyways love all Simons 😋😋😋😋

AHHHH RAYMAN

PRINCESS AND THE FROG

Cinderellla

ROBLOX I LOVE ROBLOX

Class of 09

#there’s more than this im just attached to these #I LOVE SCREWM AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

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fanficwriter284 · 9 months

Note

hey fan its your favorite annoying prick!

anyway i was wondering what illnesses everyone has. im super bad at making lore/ giving characters traits and was looking for inspo. i feel like if i give people something to relate to it would help make my content better especially if thy wisdom comes from you!

Haha hi again and oh that’s certainly and interesting ask!

Chucky-

Let’s start off with the man himself.

Chucky is far from perfect, especially from what he’s been through and dealt with in his life…

Chucky has extreme panic and anxiety attacks. Which leave him extremely vulnerable and exhausted since he often goes through various episodes when he has them. He often needs someone there to calm him down in order to ease the attack.

He has PTSD. If someone even resembles his father or does a motion similar to his dad to will make him freeze. He can’t move and he can’t speaks. He’s just there existing watching time pass. He needs someone to help pull him out of his hazed state.

He has chronic aggression and psychosis. From the events of his father and years of neglect from his biological mother he never was fully there as a child and this came into full effect when his brother died. (Thankfully this lessened when he lived with his mom and later on his Foster Father but once his mom died he ran away and these came back and hit him like a truck) When he’s having a panic attack or his sanity is flattering he hears and sees things…Mainly his father and dead brother in his head and it drives him mad.

And he’s a Sociopath…But you probably already knew that so he’s horrible at understanding emotions.

Tiffany- Self Worth Issues.

Due to the vast amount of belittlement she ensued as a child, this was bound to happen. Despite her mother being long gone she can help but pick out her flaws and fixate in them. Similar to what her mother did to her, leading to Tiffany becoming very insecure about her self and image. Luckily she has her husband…he doesn’t understand it and is horrible with emotions but he tries.

Glen and Glenda- They both just have anxiety. Nothing much. And nightmares. But that’s pretty much it.

Slappy- He wouldn’t really call it an illness and actually embraces it. He has ADHD. So he can be a handful at times and be a bit too hyperactive. Which can be a struggle for other people especially for his best friend Chuck. Since Chucks very sensitive around loud and chaotic stuff that’s besides the sound of slaughter. So Slap does his best and tries not to overwhelm Chucky. Though it can be quite a struggle for him.

Sometime he forgets to do things because he jumps around from task to task and often forgets to eat or drink. THANKFULLY his wife always makes sure he has something in his system so he doesn’t pass out.

Slappy also has extreme abandonment issues since he was dumped down a sewer drain and left to be forgotten by his father. So that left him very jumpy and on his toes, giving him extreme trust issues. He often tries to cover up his many insecurities with jokes and laughter to divert his and other peoples attention away from the matters, despite how uncomfortable or anxious he is. It’s not healthy at all, thankfully he has Anne and Chuck.

Annabelle- Social Anxiety. She doesn’t like dealing with people or being in heavily crowded areas. They over whelm her and make her feeling claustrophobic. However being with her husband always makes it easier.

Jig- Just has Sensory Processing Disorder and OCD. And he feels no physical pain and has issues understanding others and their emotions and the reasoning behind such.

Jig is overall focused on the way he presents himself if he keeps the outside clean and proper he will be okay. However if his suit gets dirty he will hyper-fixate on the stain and white until it’s gone sometimes he’ll go past the suit and onto his own skin and will keep going till he bleeds. He need someone to snap him out of it or me could go it bone.

He feels that he is someone on the outside looking in analyzing every obstacle and object in his perimeter he is very calculated and doesn’t factor human emotions into the equation. He feels no connection and just distant. The only people he care about to some degree is his family and even that connection took YEARS to develop.

His home is always clean and neat and if anything is it’s of line he will loose his mind.

Billy- Really doesn’t have an illness but…He’s horrified of himself and the wrathful nature he suppresses. He often downplays his other emotions expect the ones related happiness. He’s always smiling even when he’s not happy. This is due to the environment in which he was living in prior to meeting his family. His mother didn’t like it when he frowned so she forced a smile on his face until he could to it on his own. He was raised to be a killing machine that smiles his way through the job…nothing more.

This can often lead to anxiety attacks but don’t appear that way about he’s hides away, and smiles through the pain. And he loves marking others smile how can he do that if he isn’t smiling…..

(I hope this is good enough! 😁)

#The Fam

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