#begrimedchains

ah knew this place was haunted. /throws one entire chainsaw to start the exorcism

nonverbal starters | @begrimedchainsshelter - protect them

A desperate lacking of medical supplies required someone to traverse the realms. With so many injured, Claudette stepped away from her comfort zone around the campfire and stepped past those dreaded gates to play the noble hero.

She has limited knowledge of where killers prefer to be outside of trials, just that they inhabit the realms beyond every gate.

Without active search, it is easier to sneak around, but that doesn’t stop her heart from beating straight out of her chest; expecting a killer behind every corner, every turn. Every breath may give her away. 

SNAP!

A yelp escapes the throat. Pain is shot up the leg as metal jaws come to clamp around the foot, rusted spikes digging into flesh draw crimson. She collapses to the dusty ground, gripping the jaws. The hinge squeaks, but she can’t manage to pull it apart.

She hears rustling somewhere in the distance. It could have been the wind, or a crow, but she wasn’t chancing it. There’s strangled attempts to pull it apart, becoming desperate. Pulling her foot until the bright red is visible outside of her boot.

And as she looks up, she sees him. The killer. Well, a killer. Not the one who she would particularly expect to see with bear traps at the MacMillan Estate. 

But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was he was bounding towards her, weapons in hand and all she could do was shield herself with her arms. Cowering as he got close.

But there was no rev of the chain saw, no raise of the mallet. No. He crouches. Claudette tries to squirm away to no avail, only exacerbating whatever injuries she’s already sustained from the trap locked around her foot.

Hands much larger than her own then reach for the trap and nigh effortlessly pull it apart. She flinches as the spikes dislodge from her joints-- and only then does her shielding hands lower to look at her ...

... Savior?

There’s long pause as she debates whether to turn tail and run or to express gratitude. So she remains sitting there in shock, breath heavy as she retreats her injured foot away from the trap.

Finally the adrenaline scattered brain sorts that she ought to go before the Trapper does arrive. No doubt he heard the sound of a trap set off.

     “Th-tha-thank you.”

She stammers, clambering to her feet. 

You have chains, keeping you linked to something you'd rather leave behind. Maybe this is a bad family, traumatic event, toxic relationship... But something's keeping you trapped there, and you don't know how to escape it. You can turn the chain around, to help you instead of trap you... Can't you?

Tagged by: @begrimedchains

“If I tell myself to fuck off and my self fucks off, does that mean… I still exist?” Someone found Jeff’s stash of devil’s cabbage.

 ———  ( COLORFUL HEADCANONS  ; accepting !  )  * @begrimedchains

raspberry:  what  food  and  /  or  drink  can  your  muse  not  get  enough  of  ?  do  they  indulge  in  it  often,  or  is  it  something  reserved  for  special  occasions  ?

i mean while writing him a background i did consider the idea his deformities were also part of a twin he just absorbed too, it’s a fun idea. make it quadruplets and billy gettin’ 4ks in the womb. what a savage.

Actually “physically absorbing” an unborn twin in the early state of a fetus is a thing (I don’t know what it’s called tho). So whether it is just a discarded idea or really canon, it’s a really interesting backstory detail. And of course gives us sth to work with on our own perspective.

"Ah likes snacks."

“Now listen.” He tightens the large blanket Claudette had made specifically for the Killer around Billy’s shoulder, tying the connecting string as tight as he thought was a safe and acceptable for the unwanted man-child. “I don’t care if you can eat pallets like poptarts, you’re bundling up before we go outside, or else you’ll get frostbite again.”