Post by Deleted on Jan 24, 2023 19:23:39 GMT -5
St☠n _ Unholy
We arrive at a time lapse from the high corner of Stan's bedroom. He tosses and turns for the first few hours tracing to late into this night. Discomfort reads desperately all over his face. Mumbling something inaudible, a nightmare comes to a climax, just then- his heels slam against the wall, his eyes suddenly open wide. He leans over to grab something to wipe the sweat from his brow. Stan's eye whites gloss over as if Pop is the one needing to empty the bladder at this hour. Finally, he gets up to relieve himself, brushing his teeth, followed by a field trip to the kitchen for a midnight snack. He hums that annoying melody Stan already hated as a youth, because it meant his Dad was home from work and about to unleash on the first thing or person he saw. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Stan sees exactly how pale and skeletal he is beginning to look since the murder. Stan doubles over in pain from his abdomen, then hurls what he just ate into the kitchen sink, moaning and grimacing.
"OOoooOoOoooh! My stommacchhh!!! Daddy wasn't there! What a living hell this has become!! I can't sleep! I can't shit in private! He can touch my privates! GAHHHHHHH!!! Pop, we need to find a working relationship or these assholes at Decadence will use our division to win! OOOoooOOOohhh!!! Is this all some sort of final test? What do you have left to resolve on Earth? What's that gnawing in the pit of my stomach?? Something not of this world... turning like a satanic seed slithering its way into the void of sure-footed pending apocalyptic doom. Ooooooh- there it is, again!! Ravaging me from the inside out! Like the tackle dummies I put down week after week on Massacre! No?! That's not it! What else could it be?!"
He launches a blender across the room in frustration. More barf hits the stainless steel and speckles a marbled backsplash. Out of the vomit, black worms wiggle free of the sink drain. Stan turns to find something to clean himself up with. He bends down to grab fresh linen out of his hamper. In the kitchen window above his bent down shoulders, we see a murder of crows slowly circling the house. Stan comes back up appearing even worse for wear. In the faint distance you can hear an engine turn off, afterwards what sounds like heavy footsteps come up the driveway cement...
"Is it worry that the cops are on my trial- in a more serious sense than just a few questions for me? Maybe it's some sort of haunted virus that my own Father is inflicting as a form of post-mortem guilt? No answers! And yet here we are, onto another Massacre after Leviathan took my most recent hammer throw. Seriously, OCW? Resistance is futile. Stomach problems or not- Decadence remains game on for all of us. My little family predicament will not shield you seven from being dealt an even worse hand, by being you! Have some pride in what you do! Levi, Black, is anyone trying to use their spine... until I rip it out?! I didn't wanna say it, buuuut apparently... some of you are entirely too comfortable or stable. Being too stable has clearly never been a problem for me. HEYYY!!! What's that sound!? WHO IS HERE? OOOOOoooOOOooooOOHHHHHH!!! NOT NOW! ARGGhhh... (demonic gurgling sounds)"
Face first he hits the hard kitchen floor. We hear several of his recently brittled bones crack on impact with the cold tile squares. Around the corner a squeaky screen door opens and shuts. Stan involuntarily slides out feet first, being dragged from the front door in a violent, unsettling, and oddly limp like a serpent, manner. Water splashes his face via a tin bucket. He gets pulled up and backhanded, beginning to come to...
Thomas _ 'WAKEEEEEE UPPP, STANLEYYY! WHERE'S THE HAMMER?!?' . (Tommy's forehead vein pulsing)
Waving his hands to stop being slapped, a woozy Stan gives the universal T for timeout signal. Thomas smacks him in the face. Stan backs up to the wall, his broken front teeth revealed in a bloody bashful pathetic smile.
St☠n _ 'You're not impressed by all of this?? What's not too love!? Hey, Tommy- let me ask you somethin'... do I look FAMILIAR!? ABNORMALLY FAMILIAR??? I should, because our dear old DAD HAS POSSESSED ME AND WON'T GET BACK OUT! Now my flesh is rotting and my stomach, OOOoOoOoOH!!!!! There it is again!!' . (Stan passes back out cold)
Thomas _ 'STANNNN? STAN!? God damnit! Possessed you? Give me a break... you really have been hitting the hard shit. We have to find that hammer before someone else does, Stan! Don't you get it!?' . (Tommy's features drain of color)
Thomas picks up his brother's limp body to no avail. He notices a note in Stan's breast shirt pocket. Carefully, he susses it out while Stan just snores. Below the torn left corner, it reads a list of items and reminders ["Enchantment Spells, Exorcism Real Life, Tell Tommy Sorry, Plan Service for Pop, End Times Now?"] in barely legible handwriting. Thomas flips the note over. His face fills with color again. Squinting with a grin, Thomas walks back out to his car to hop on the fresh lead. Tom's car engine echoes from the driveway. Stan's eyes suddenly open. His cockeyed gaze notices the note gone, sniffing the air gently like an animal, hearing the engine roar as tires pull away down the pebble sideroad. Using his schnoz, he navigates down the trail out the door.
Stan, semi-broken and still bleeding from... places, picks up the scent, unnaturally running full speed down the pebble sideroad after the car. A terrifying and loud unholy grunting sound replaces what would be a normal person's panting breaths. Stan stops for a moment. Using it to howl from deep within his stomach's bowels... he keeps running.
OOC Disclaimer: Not meant as support for the Occult please ritual responsibly.
We arrive at a time lapse from the high corner of Stan's bedroom. He tosses and turns for the first few hours tracing to late into this night. Discomfort reads desperately all over his face. Mumbling something inaudible, a nightmare comes to a climax, just then- his heels slam against the wall, his eyes suddenly open wide. He leans over to grab something to wipe the sweat from his brow. Stan's eye whites gloss over as if Pop is the one needing to empty the bladder at this hour. Finally, he gets up to relieve himself, brushing his teeth, followed by a field trip to the kitchen for a midnight snack. He hums that annoying melody Stan already hated as a youth, because it meant his Dad was home from work and about to unleash on the first thing or person he saw. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Stan sees exactly how pale and skeletal he is beginning to look since the murder. Stan doubles over in pain from his abdomen, then hurls what he just ate into the kitchen sink, moaning and grimacing.
"OOoooOoOoooh! My stommacchhh!!! Daddy wasn't there! What a living hell this has become!! I can't sleep! I can't shit in private! He can touch my privates! GAHHHHHHH!!! Pop, we need to find a working relationship or these assholes at Decadence will use our division to win! OOOoooOOOohhh!!! Is this all some sort of final test? What do you have left to resolve on Earth? What's that gnawing in the pit of my stomach?? Something not of this world... turning like a satanic seed slithering its way into the void of sure-footed pending apocalyptic doom. Ooooooh- there it is, again!! Ravaging me from the inside out! Like the tackle dummies I put down week after week on Massacre! No?! That's not it! What else could it be?!"
He launches a blender across the room in frustration. More barf hits the stainless steel and speckles a marbled backsplash. Out of the vomit, black worms wiggle free of the sink drain. Stan turns to find something to clean himself up with. He bends down to grab fresh linen out of his hamper. In the kitchen window above his bent down shoulders, we see a murder of crows slowly circling the house. Stan comes back up appearing even worse for wear. In the faint distance you can hear an engine turn off, afterwards what sounds like heavy footsteps come up the driveway cement...
"Is it worry that the cops are on my trial- in a more serious sense than just a few questions for me? Maybe it's some sort of haunted virus that my own Father is inflicting as a form of post-mortem guilt? No answers! And yet here we are, onto another Massacre after Leviathan took my most recent hammer throw. Seriously, OCW? Resistance is futile. Stomach problems or not- Decadence remains game on for all of us. My little family predicament will not shield you seven from being dealt an even worse hand, by being you! Have some pride in what you do! Levi, Black, is anyone trying to use their spine... until I rip it out?! I didn't wanna say it, buuuut apparently... some of you are entirely too comfortable or stable. Being too stable has clearly never been a problem for me. HEYYY!!! What's that sound!? WHO IS HERE? OOOOOoooOOOooooOOHHHHHH!!! NOT NOW! ARGGhhh... (demonic gurgling sounds)"
Face first he hits the hard kitchen floor. We hear several of his recently brittled bones crack on impact with the cold tile squares. Around the corner a squeaky screen door opens and shuts. Stan involuntarily slides out feet first, being dragged from the front door in a violent, unsettling, and oddly limp like a serpent, manner. Water splashes his face via a tin bucket. He gets pulled up and backhanded, beginning to come to...
Thomas _ 'WAKEEEEEE UPPP, STANLEYYY! WHERE'S THE HAMMER?!?' . (Tommy's forehead vein pulsing)
Waving his hands to stop being slapped, a woozy Stan gives the universal T for timeout signal. Thomas smacks him in the face. Stan backs up to the wall, his broken front teeth revealed in a bloody bashful pathetic smile.
St☠n _ 'You're not impressed by all of this?? What's not too love!? Hey, Tommy- let me ask you somethin'... do I look FAMILIAR!? ABNORMALLY FAMILIAR??? I should, because our dear old DAD HAS POSSESSED ME AND WON'T GET BACK OUT! Now my flesh is rotting and my stomach, OOOoOoOoOH!!!!! There it is again!!' . (Stan passes back out cold)
Thomas _ 'STANNNN? STAN!? God damnit! Possessed you? Give me a break... you really have been hitting the hard shit. We have to find that hammer before someone else does, Stan! Don't you get it!?' . (Tommy's features drain of color)
Thomas picks up his brother's limp body to no avail. He notices a note in Stan's breast shirt pocket. Carefully, he susses it out while Stan just snores. Below the torn left corner, it reads a list of items and reminders ["Enchantment Spells, Exorcism Real Life, Tell Tommy Sorry, Plan Service for Pop, End Times Now?"] in barely legible handwriting. Thomas flips the note over. His face fills with color again. Squinting with a grin, Thomas walks back out to his car to hop on the fresh lead. Tom's car engine echoes from the driveway. Stan's eyes suddenly open. His cockeyed gaze notices the note gone, sniffing the air gently like an animal, hearing the engine roar as tires pull away down the pebble sideroad. Using his schnoz, he navigates down the trail out the door.
Stan, semi-broken and still bleeding from... places, picks up the scent, unnaturally running full speed down the pebble sideroad after the car. A terrifying and loud unholy grunting sound replaces what would be a normal person's panting breaths. Stan stops for a moment. Using it to howl from deep within his stomach's bowels... he keeps running.
OOC Disclaimer: Not meant as support for the Occult please ritual responsibly.