#cursedreincarnation

@cursedreincarnation​ asks: 🌠 For Connor

For every person that sends 🌠 I will give you a random headcanon about my muse.

Connor hates horror/thriller movies and games. He hates being put on edge and feeling as if something can get him. One of the worst ones for him is Nightmare on Elm Street. The idea of a being that can infiltrate dreams and kill you from within reminds him too much of Amanda and his near death in the garden. 

The demon released an ear-piercing shriek before it tore passed the two on the floor, taking its suffocating miasmic smog along with it. The air was clear and light again and John found it much easier to breathe, though he wasn’t so sure about the boy.

John begrudgingly lifted his back from the dirty floor and hung his elbows over his knees. He removed his glasses and used his suit to wipe the grime and sweat from his face, then he placed them back over his eyes just in time to see Andrew retch into the trash. God, poor kid. He looked downright miserable; his normally fair skin now a sickly pale, the whites of his eyes gone red and glossy, and his throat covered in a dark nasty purple. 

John hung his head. While he was upset (and he had to admit, a little angry) that Andrew took off and put his life in danger... he couldn’t find it in himself to reprimand the boy. Not in his current state.

"We’ll talk about that later. Just make sure it doesn't happen again." John answered with his usual grin, though there was hardly any humor left in him. That was a close call, had John not made it in time the two wouldn't be sitting here together right now. This really could not happen again, he would make sure of that... and what was up with that little girl? What part did she play in all of this? Something was going on in this classroom before he intervened. He would have to hound Andrew about it soon, but first things first.

@cursedreincarnation​ asks: “Did you put this here?” for Fran

Our muses are cleaning house when they find a circle of symbols drawn underneath a rug. Send “Did you put this here?” For their reaction.

▌█ ∵  🧸   ∵ █ ▌   ❝ Forgive me. I had not meant to startle ya. ❞ Her hand falls slowly to her side letting him go before stepping back. Hands carefully picking up the doll Tabitha had made for her before looking down. Holding her tightly before looking towards the house were her brother risided now. ❝ I had not realized such woe would come from the Reverand with what I did. I had not wished for the death of Amy nor Tabitha.  ❞ The confession falls from her lips quietly before clutching the doll in her hands a bit tighter and then looking up to the stranger who seemed to pop in and out of Little Hope. She had not yet found reason for him to be here but her prayers to the good lord must have been answered upon her realization of what Carver had been doing.  ❝ I fear for my brother, that he may be next. But I haven’t an idea of how or why. Ann-drew would you kindly tell me if you know anything ? ❞

“What do you mean ‘wait here,’ Andrew, now hold on, you’re not-- we need to stick together! Andrew!” John shouted after him as he sharply rounded the corner. Dammit! Trying to keep a small group of five together was proving to be impossible. If they did make it out alive he promised himself to never volunteer another class trip again for the duration of his career.

With zero desire to repeat with Andrew what happened much earlier with the group, John pushed himself from the grime covered floor and found his way back onto unsteady feet. He favored his injured leg as he hobbled to the door, resting his forearm against the frame as he searched for the boy. 

“Where did he get off to...” 

Just down the hall to his left John heard what sounded like the tapping of footsteps. “Andrew!” He shouted in the direction of the boy to no avail, eliciting a sigh from the older man. 

John limped down the long pathway, using the walls and boarded up windows as a makeshift crutch, sliding his palm over them with each step. Nearly there... he paused to catch his breath-- suddenly, it was so hard to breathe here. His chest burned as if he ran a mile and, although he did his fair share of running tonight, there was no reason for it to start acting up now. 

Something through the opening of one of the boarded windows caught his attention. In the forest just beyond the courtyard John noticed some kind of movement. He squinted behind his dirt speckled glasses and peaked through the wooden planks. 

Off in the distance there appeared to be what looked like some kind of... animal, lurking through the brush. It was hard to make out the details and at this point he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. 

The creature stopped in its tracks, as if acknowledging John’s presence. But that seemed... impossible, given the distance between them, yet, on all fours, it began to crawl into the clearing, it began to crawl towards John. 

John found himself unable to tear his eyes from that thing --he swore it was looking straight at him-- as he clutched at his chest in an attempt to quell the sudden pain that began to overtake him.

The muffled shout of what he presumed to be Andrew echoed throughout the hall and broke John from his trance. He froze as the familiar thick fog poured from one of the classrooms, slowly filling up the hall. The air around him felt heavy as the fog finally reached him, curling around his ankles knowingly, as if the mist itself were alive. 

‘Not this shit again.’

John looked back out the window. The creature was gone. But how? He pressed both hands against the boards and leaned in to survey the moonlit covered grounds. Nothing. Just an empty courtyard overlooking the forest. He gripped the front of his dress shirt. Was it... ever really there? Could his eyes be playing tricks on him? At the rate they were going that seemed entirely likely.

He was torn from his thoughts as the sound of something screeching across the floor erupted from just up ahead, and what appeared to be a young child, click-clacking in her school shoes, ran smack dab into him. She stared up at him, her eyes wide with fear, before she gathered herself and took off behind him. Seconds after she disappeared into the darkness of the school John drew his attention back to the source of it all as he finally limped towards the classroom and in through the door.

His blood ran cold over the sight.

A large dark creature towered over a struggling Andrew, his fingernails digging into its impossibly long hands. That fucking demon from earlier! This time it’d gotten it’s disgusting claws on Andrew. The scene nearly turned his stomach. John battled with himself between -- How could he let this happen again? -- and -- Stupid kid, why did he have to take off? --

“ANDREW!” Was all he could manage, at a loss for words-- there was no time for words-- no time for anything. 

So he was a machine to him? It wasn’t new to Connor to be called such but it didn’t mean that he was completely unaffected by it. “No, I think it came out how it was intended.” He didn’t mean for his tone to get bitter for a moment, he was meant to be here for work purposes and wearing his CyberLife uniform probably didn’t help the confusion on if he was a machine or deviant, the assumption did still annoy him.

@cursedreincarnation​​ asks: "Hey, kid... You okay?"