#the hunting teacher (?)

[residentsofhollowville]

Marc plods through the forest. It isn't his forest. It'll never be. But he's on a mission, dammit, and he'll scan every square mile of this thing if he has to to find that fucking camp.

He will kill them. He will kill them all, and he won't regret it one bit. What else can he do? What else does he have to live for?

A branch snaps, somewhere far off, and his head whips around towards it.

"Who's there?"

[nobodys-soldier]

Marc traces the shape of the name, as though it were the name of a ghost.

"Isabelle," he mouths.

She might be dead. She might not be. It isn't his place to suggest.

"You knew her?"

@residentsofhollowville ((post is breaking

“No, she was before my time. Elliot and Gabriel did, though. They get weird if I bring her up- though I don’t think Elliot even knew her that well…”

Charlie’s only ever seen pictures of the girl. They can’t quite recall what she looks like- her eyes always slide off of her face.

[conspiracy-of-fear]

After weeks of fruitless job searching, Marc comes knocking on Victoria's door. Thank God he mostly remembered where this flat is. His head's been so vague since the changing.

"Hello? Victoria? Any of y'all got time to talk?"

@residentsofhollowville

It didn't take long till the door was opened, this time it was Skylar who answered instead of Beau

"Tori's Dad! Didn't expect you to visit"

[laertesthelocalstranger]

When Laertes comes home, Marc is waiting in the doorway. He doesn't look angry, or scared, or like much of anything at all. He knows what needs to be done. He knows that she cannot, and will not, do it alone. So, he's going to do what he always does and loan his strength to someone who needs it.

"Come on, let's get you inside, and we can talk, alright?"

@residentsofhollowville

They tense when they see Marc. It isn't a conscious thing. Laertes doesn't notice it at all, really. Just the natural thing to do.

What does he want to talk about? It's a little blurred. She's more than okay with that. They nod and follow him in.

[i-just-really-like-lions]

You, girl. You from camp?

-The Hunting Teacher @residentsofhollowville

uh. yes. why do you care?

[speyeralling-down-thy-majesty]

Marc all but crashes through the door of the dive. He does not look like himself. He does not look like anything.

"Amelie. I need a door."

He's not speaking. No one in their right mind could construe it as speaking. It is growling, barking, the sound of a mad animal about to break its chains.

@residentsofhollowville

"And I need you to stop treating me like a taxi service."

Amelie responds calmly,yet slightly mocking. They don't look up from its book.

[weaver-radio]

It feels like it takes a day and an age for the meeting to come together, but time passes strangely for Marc these days. Hours fly by in moments, and a minute stretches on endlessly.

He knows his time is coming soon. He feels it in the wind. But if this hollow body can be put towards some grander purpose, then so be it.

He hears footsteps clacking towards where he waits, like the sound of a weaving shuttle smacking the loom.

"Is it time?"

@residentsofhollowville

The clacking of heels stopped just a few feet from Marc. He could practically hear her smile before she spoke

"Hello Mr. Robertson. We finally meet in person"

[y0ud0n0tkn0w]

Something out in the night hungers. It is not quite human, but it wears a man's shape. Its hands are hollow and heavy and hurt. The burns have not faded, and will not, but watching something or someone bleed will be a balm to them.

He sees someone something walking out the door of some kind of movie theater. It does not matter. It never does. All that matters is the hunger and the hatred and the hunt.

It moves. He chases.

-The Hunting Teacher @residentsofhollowville

Cole rubs its eyes as it closes the door behind itself and starts walking down the empty street, exhausted after a long day of work. Maybe it could stop by its apartment before going out again to get food...

Is that the sound of footsteps behind it? Its head snaps around.

[residentsofhollowville]

Now I have a lot of these

But I think this would be funny so

Put 2 of your Blorbos in a poll and let people vote who they think is cuter

[residentsofhollowville]

There's a feeling like a loose floorboard is kicked out from under Marc's foot, and he stumbles, falling. There is the distinct sensation that his eyes are petrifying, turning to something fake and plastic and useless, and he can't see anything but the flash of a firework (or maybe a pistol) as his mind is flooded with another's pure terror. The fear tastes like adrenaline.

And then the feeling is gone, and it's his house he's stumbling in. The place is pretty torn up. Marc hadn't responded fast enough, and Laertes had taken things into his own hands.

@laertesthelocalstranger

"Laertes?"

Son of a bitch.

"Laertes!"

He goes tearing through the house, looking for his child, looking for the gun, not knowing or caring which one he'll find first. He was supposed to be helping. He needs to be hunting.

Fuck that. He's got to find them.

[conspiracy-of-fear]

Marc doesn't expect the door to actually bring him out near Victoria. Frankly, he halfway doesn't expect to come out of it at all. But for once, the trickster was honest, and when he opens his eyes, he's standing on Skyler and Beau's front steps, and he's ready to hunt.

He gets to his feet and knocks on their door.

@residentsofhollowville

It didn't take long for someone to answer the door, and like last time, Beau was the one who opened the door

"Oh, Mr. Robertson, what are you doing here?"

[residentsofhollowville]

Marc lights up a cigarette and stares vacantly out into the rain. That thunder isn't of this world. Or maybe he's just paranoid. He's never been too clear on the difference.

He more or less ignores the soggy gentleman keeping him company, but common courtesy demands he at least offer him a light.

"You there. With the wet hair and the sad eyes. You want a smoke?"

The hospital waiting room is cold in more ways than one.

White and harsh and sterile. It smells like cleaner that smells like death to people lucky enough to not know its real scent.

Since his becoming, Harold hasn’t had use for hospitals. Modern medicine isn’t much help for people who are already drowned. But it can help other people. So he’s in the waiting room, pacing and dripping puddles on the floor as his storm thunders outside.

[laertesthelocalstranger]

Marc doesn't know how long it takes him to buck up and let go. He is gone. He doesn't know where. He tries to convince himself he doesn't care.

He kicks up his heels and swings, until he feels himself flying out and falling, falling into God knows what kind of dark and terrible part of Laertes' unfolding being.

@residentsofhollowville

Scene Four

The next one is older, Marc can feel it. Almost as old as Laertes. It's a simple one, too- a kindergarten during recess. It's packed with almost a hundred children, running and talking and laughing. Each doesn't look quite human, and not always in subtle ways- their plastic limbs are glaringly obvious, their button eyes easy to spot from a mile away. It's made almost with care- like the mind that had formed it had tried its best to make them human, but hadn't known what that looked like yet.

Laertes spent much time here, once.

The exit is with the teacher- a tall, generic looking man with a face with poorly formed proportions.

[theladysunami]

I had a very odd dream where a train (or bus?) I was on got yanked into another world. While my dream had nothing to do with SVSSS, it did have my waking self thinking about how hilarious and/or horrifying such a thing could be as an AU.

Imagine Shen Yuan riding the subway, train or bus one day, when something happens and his whole car gets yanked into the world of PIDW. Nobody else in the car knows anything about PIDW, so Shen Yuan finds himself with the self imposed task of keeping this eccentric group of strangers alive in a weird world full of demons, monsters, and aphrodisiac plants.

The group’s first assumption would probably be that they’re still on modern earth, and just got teleported somewhere. Their second assumption, if they come across common folk, might be they somehow ended up in the past.

Then they run into some monster, or people riding on swords with specific uniforms, or a commoner mentions a name or event only Shen Yuan recognizes. The rest of the party debates what sort of Xianxia or Wuxia world they’ve ended up in, while poor Shen Yuan sweats bullets. He knows exactly what world they are in, and they are so screwed.

I have this image of poor beleaguered nerd Shen Yuan successfully protecting and leading this group of primary school kids, their cute teacher, and a handful of grannies and grandpas, while all the other adults and older teens keep wandering off and getting themselves in trouble.

[speyeralling-down-thy-majesty]

Marc is painfully aware of the intrusion in his den. The thing across from him is not the kitchen door. The kitchen does not have a door, just an empty frame where one should be, and yet, it floats there, like a swirling, moving heat haze, ready to be opened.

It didn't barge in this time. Somehow, he finds that important. Without the gun in his hands, it's easier to reason with himself.

He turns the latch and lets them in.

@residentsofhollowville

Amelie doesn't step further than its door, opting to lean against the doorframe with folded arms instead.

"I heard someone needs a door¿?"

Its tone is geniune, though there's no friendliness apparent. They look him over, eyebrow arched.

"Gods,you look absolutely horrendous. I did not think you could look even more like a frazzled dog."

[residentsofhollowville]

Marc doesn't see her for the monster she is. He doesn't see the red eyes and the sharp teeth and the brokenness. All he sees is a young lady in considerable danger who could really use a hand up.

"You alright?"

Elaine drags herself, shivering and soaking wet, out of the Thames. She coughs up a bit of water. It's green with algae and who-knows-what-else.

Fuck, she's mad. It's rare for her to have a hunt interrupted, and especially not by her body deciding now would be a great time to move against her will just 'cause some twink in a Spider-Man shirt told her to. And landing in the water had hurt. She's pretty sure she broke at least her tailbone.

But no matter. Elaine has always been good at one thing, and that's adapting to any situation. She has a master's degree at playing the damsel in distress. And if she plays her cards right, she'll end the night with a proper meal.

Just her luck; someone is passing by. She curls into herself, giving a weak, pathetic cough, and a little bit of a sniffle for extra effect.