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happysaddca · 1 month ago

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So I've been writing a lot for @wyervan's slasher AU... mostly smut... and thus it's been a hot minute since I had something I felt comfortable publishing online (the smut I'm just eh cause I feel like I might have a lot of kids following me but also I have so few followers that it'll probably not even be noticed??).

This is a snippet from after Ellis is in the know about what Sun and Moon do. They've been lowkey pressed into a "bonding activity" (Sun's words). They're not handling it very well.

TW for semi-graphic depiction of murder (I gloss over it mostly tbh it's hard for me to write without agonizing over), alcoholism, and a panic attack on Ellis's end.

Ellis pulls uncomfortably at the mask covering their face. Unlike Sun and Moon, they didn’t wear a costume, opting for simple black on black with a mask and gloves to ensure maximum coverage. They’ve also been left behind at the house while the two go to flush out their victim from where he’d gone off to hide.

Ellis pokes through the rooms with the sort of idle curiosity wrought from stress and too much time to waste. One door’s locked, but it’s easy to bobby pin their way inside and find an office, the computer currently off. They poke at the mouse with their bat to be sure, but yep, it’s off. Moving on, it’s a small house, two bedrooms, one made up for the kid that’s currently away.

Nathan, they remember. The room is pretty bare bones, but they don’t remember how long it’s been since the divorce. Maybe this isn’t the marital home and Nathan’s dad is still putting the pieces together? Sun had explained some of the man’s crimes that brought them here. Neglect, mostly. It brought a sour taste to Ellis’s mouth when they opened the master bedroom up and found skin mags on the bed and a pile of beer cans overflowing from the trash can. It smells like sweat and laundry and old cum. They gag as they shut the door, making it to the kitchen as the door slams open.

The man barrelling through is a sweating, oversized mess, his face white and red in equal measure and his hair slicked to his head from sweat. He’s lost momentum crashing through his door, stumbling over his own shoes as he attempts to close it behind him. Ellis backs to keep the kitchen table between the two of them, noting with more disgust a shelf full of liquor and a bag of trash with more beer cans poking out the top.

He spots Ellis and lets out a strangled, breathy scream before noticing they only hold a bat. “A-are you with the clowns? You gotta help me; I didn’ do anything!” Ellis notices there’s blood dripping from one hand onto the cheap linoleum floor. He lurches towards Ellis, who lifts their bat in self-defense.

Splintering wood and shattering glass sprays from behind the man, and Ellis and he both flinch. Moon wrenches his axe back for a second swing, Sun’s voice catcalling through. “Oh, what a naughty brat. Running away when all we want to do is play, play play!”

“Help me!” The man grabs for Ellis, but he’s jerked back by his collar as Moon shoves his way through the splintered remains of the door. Ellis feels their grip on their bat slip, squeezing it tighter when Moon throws the man against the counter. His head hits the sink, the metal dully thudding as he grunts and slips down. “Please,” he asks, and there’s spit dripping from his mouth flecked with tiny bits of red.

Moon’s mask swings towards Ellis, who gives a short little nod at the smiling facade. They’re okay, untouched, even though their heart is hammering a million miles a minute against the inside of their ribcage. They can taste blood in their mouth, but a cursory swipe of the tongue tells them nothing’s broken.

“Oh Moony, Nova, looks like our friend might finally be ready to play. What do you say?” The playful tone in Sun’s voice is at odds with the static smile of his mask and the knife he’s carrying. As he speaks, he squats next to the man, his bells jingling like mad, using his knife to poke at the man’s cheek. “Oh, nevermind. Moon, you were too rough with the man! He’s all passed out now.”

“Went for Nova.” Moon squats too, leaning against his axe as he leans forward and pulls the man’s face up, his hair a handle. He lets go of the hair, the white on his hand bright red from blood. “Probably out for a minute.”

“Let’s get him set up in one of the chairs.” Sun bounces up with one arm, Moon moving more sedately, his axe set aside. “Nova, starlight, can you bring us some rope?”

“Y-yeah. From the bag, right?” They nearly drop their bat, covertly wiping their hands off on their jeans. It doesn’t do much, the sweat slow to wick away in the rayon blend.

“Yes sir. Be quick! He’ll be waking up in a minute.” Sun waves them off.

The bag’s been left in the living room, and Ellis digs through for the rope, ignoring the way their stomach lurches at some of Sun and Moon’s other tools — hedge clippers, pliers. The rope is cheap stuff from the local hardware store, coarse and itchy even through their gloves. They coil it over one arm, noticing a pile of mail.

Curious, and not ready to step back in the kitchen, they poke through. It’s bills mostly, a letter for the county court, and a familiar logo. A triangle with two A’s. They rip it open, skimming the contents before tossing it aside.

“Nova!” Sun’s voice calls out from the kitchen. “Where are you? Did you get lost?”

They want to throw up. It’s hard to tell if it’s actually hot in the house or if it’s just the ski mask, but either way, they want to throw up and leave. But they can’t. They look at the rope on their arm, take a deep breath that would fog their glasses had they worn them, and step back into the kitchen.

Moon’s axe is on the table now, Moon himself back at the door to pull at the remaining wood, enlarging the hole he’d made. Sun’s with the man, his arms crossed, toe tap-tap-tapping away with the little bell swinging wildly off beat. When Ellis reappears, he relaxes, unfolding himself to take the rope. “We were beginning to worry you’d gotten lost Nova dear! Or, goodness forbid, gotten cold feet.”

“This mask makes everything too warm,” Ellis says dryly, letting Sun take the rope and watching as he ties the man’s wrists together, then to the chair. Legs are next, a complicated looking series of knots ensuring he can’t wiggle free. “Do we have to kill him?” They try not to cringe when both Sun and Moon stare, the ever-smiling masks making their skin crawl.

“Cold feet indeed,” Sun says with a sigh. He straightens, picking up his knife as he goes.

Ellis’s gaze flicks to the knife and back again, and they resist the urge to back away. “Not cold feet. Just questioning the validity of this uh, extra-judiciary sentence.”

“He’s hurt his son,” Sun says with all the patience of a parent on his last cup of coffee.

“Yelling, pulling, neglect,” Moon adds, and it’s impossible not to squirm under his gaze. Ellis nods slowly. It’s hard to argue against something they’re both familiar with. Moon picks up a bottle of liquor, reading the label over before dropping it. The bottle breaks, liquid pooling in the low parts of the floor. “And alcoholism.”

The smell hits Ellis hard, and they actually step back, squeezing the bat tightly. They want to take of their gloves. “I found something in the mail,” they try to say, but the man wakes up, and the attention is no longer on them.

“Oh wakey wakey. Did you have a good nap?” Sun circles around, spinning the knife handle in his hand, the point just barely pressing into his finger. Moon approaches from behind, ignoring the flinch from the man as he brushes against him. The flinch intensifies when the axe is dragged back, catching on his shoulder.

“Please let me go. I’ll give you whatever you want. I won’t call the police, promise. I don’t even know who you are.”

“They always say that, don’t they Moony?” Sunny asks.

Ellis can almost feel the eye roll from Moon. “Always. Think they can avoid punishment. Shouldn’t have been naughty.”

“I found something in the mail,” Ellis tries again, but they’re not heard over Sun’s giggling. Moon’s talking, but they can’t hear properly over the blood rushing in their ears. Maybe their hearing aids are broken. “Guys, I found something.” They can’t even hear themselves. “Guys.”

Sun slashes, and Ellis flinches back at the spray of blood. Something’s definitely broken. They can’t even hear the scream. But Sun and Moon are getting into things properly, Sun’s blade disappearing and reappearing with red. Ellis watches, something cold twisting deep in their gut.

“Nova, do you want a turn? There’s plenty of time before our friend — Nova?” Sun turns and finds Ellis frozen in place. “Moony, are they okay?”

“Please,” the man says weakly, but Sun covers his mouth with a hand.

“El?” Moon tries, stepping forward. There’s red on his costume now and Ellis remembers how many times they’ve seen his shirt and sleeves stained. How many times they figured it was ketchup stains or maybe from wriggling around in the dirty parts of the arcade. They can’t step back, moving to the side instead. Something crunches under their foot, and they look down. It’s a piece of the broken liquor bottle.

“I found something,” Ellis says, and they can hear their own voice at last. Sun and Moon do too, the masks cocking in exaggerated curiosity. “A letter from Alcoholics Anonymous. Giving him a sponsor. He’s trying to get better.”

“Get better?” Sun’s laugh feels cold. “You’ve seen his house, right?”

“Y-yes. But he’s just divorced, isn’t he? It’s a lot to go through, right?” They do not like Sun and Moon staring at them. They want to take off the masks, see their employers/friends/something else’s faces properly. Or at least take off their own. It’s so hot, and they can hear themselves breathing.

“He’s had plenty of time to get better.” Sun air quotes, quick to slap his hand back over the man’s mouth. “Time’s up.”

Ellis lets out a pent up breath, frustrated. “But, but the courts—”

“Are trash.” Moon’s voice is cold. He steps forward, lifting his axe to his shoulder. “You know this.”

Ellis can’t look into his mask’s face, let alone the accompanying eyeholes. They look to the side, spying the liquor shelf again. Their bat feels heavy in their hands. “It’s not too late,” they mumble.

“It is.”

“It’s not!” They taste blood again, swinging the bat to the side. Moon flinches away but he’s not the target. The shelf comes crashing down, glass shattering and liquid splashing over their boots. It smells like whiskey and rum and tequila, and Ellis throws up in their mouth. The bile washes away the taste of blood. “It’s not too late. Let him go. Please.”

Sun just sighs, shoulders dropping as he twirls his blade slowly in one hand. “Nova, friend, it is too late.”

“But…”

“He’s seen us. There’s no way he’d not report this to the police.” Sun lets go of the man’s face, the guy immediately pleading for his life, promising money, anonymity, to move away and never return. Sun finishes playing with his knife, holding it and effortlessly slicing the man’s throat. He gurgles, blood foaming up over his lips and bubbling in the new wound. Ellis stares until Moon pulls them away.

“Sun, going out for air.”

“You’re leaving me to clean up all on my own?”

Moon doesn’t reply, his arm heavy around Ellis’s shoulders. When he pulls away to open the door, the ghost of his touch leaves them cold.

Moon sits with Ellis on the steps, setting the axe down. They stare at it, at the flecks of dark on the otherwise shiny blade, until Moon removes his mask and covers it. He gently pulls the bat free from their death grip, then removes Ellis’s mask, the night air cold after spending so long with their own breath in their face. Ellis squints and wipes at their eyes, unsurprised to find their hand wet. At least it’s from crying and not blood, they think, and they laugh, unable to control themselves. The laugh grows high pitched and manic, and it’s starting to hurt when Moon pulls them close.

He doesn’t kiss them, and Ellis is grateful because they cannot handle the idea of dealing with that on top of whatever breakdown they’re currently going through. Moon just holds them against his side in the relatively cool night air while Sun is… while Sun is dealing with the body. Ellis shivers and closes their eyes, burying themself against Moon’s side.

“Think it was too soon for you to join us,” Moon finally says. Ellis lets out a weak giggle that’s quickly stifled behind one hand. “Too much at once?”

“I use a bat. It’s not sharp.” They’re still crying, and it’s still hard to properly articulate why. “He could’ve gotten better.”

“Did you parents get better?”

Ellis is quiet at that. They slump into Moon instead, squeezing their eyes shut when he toys with the curve of their ear.

“You should rest in the car. I’m going to help Sun finish up here.” Moon starts to move, but Ellis nearly falls without the support. Moon holds them up with one hand. “Think you can make it?”

Ellis looks down the driveway, where the car is hidden behind some trees. “Yeah,” they say, but Moon’s definitely not listening. He stands, gathering their things and pulling Ellis up with him. He helps them walk, even when they finally get their feet under them and could move on their own. They only protest when Moon starts helping them into the car, taking their hearing aids. “Hey, no, I need those.”

Moon doesn’t reply, merely pocketing them somewhere in his pants. Ellis squints and tries to go for them, but he traps their hands in his, and this time there is a kiss. It’s brief, but it derails Ellis long enough for him to shut the door. They sit in the artificially (is it artificial if their ability to hear is the artificial thing) induced silence. Their mouth tastes rancid, and their gloves are itchy. They rip them off and throw them into the front of the car, dropping their head in their arms to scream.

#dca au #my writing #dca slasher au #daycare attendant #fnaf au #ellis knapp #if you've not had me talking in your ear about it for the past few weeks #Ellis is a foster care kid who got picked up by the system when their parents were found fostering a drug ring out of their motel #and Moon knows hence the bit he says to them

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