tongue has turned to cotton and brain to lead -- it’s clear her little theatre room is rarely ignited by his kind of glow. ❛ are you -- um, i -- rich isn’t ‘ere, mate. ‘f that’s who you’re looking for. just -- just me, upstairs ! ha. ❜
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“ i’ve never been very g-guh-good at sp-sports. i played buh-basketball with the other elders, of c-c-course, but that doesn’t mean i, ha, won any g-guh-games. do you have a favourite ? ”
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when jake clocks out of work, it's already 2am. he walks home from work, but when he passes by the forest... curiousity pulls him in the direction of the woods. he isn't sure what he's looking for, but instinct tells him a little wander probably won't do much harm...
warnings for: written body horror
Oh, what a mistake Dillinger has made! Foliage covers the paths in the forest, the moon shining brightly as if it heard the danger football star could be in. There’s only silence - occasionally, Jake could hear an owl cooing nearby, or bushes being rustled by the wind, maybe the occasional footsteps behind him, but other than that, it was quiet.
It was paranoia-inducing, to hear footsteps but never see the person behind you. It isn’t until Jake walks to a particular part of the forest does the creature show itself, only when all is quiet, and not even the moon is present does it appear. It’s grotesque, a foot or two taller than Jake. In a hoarse, pained voice - or voices, rather, voices Jake would recognize as his parents, it spoke, words whispery.
“Turn… around, Jacob.”
Of course, if he did so, he’d be faced with a terrifying creature. Most of its body was sleek grey metal, but there were eyes plastered all over the creature ( everyone is watching you, dillinger! ) . Body parts were in the wrong place, arms were welded on to metal, hands permanently shaped into claws. It has sharp teeth, and if Jake looked closely, along with other human body parts, some of it belonged to his parents. In fact, every external body part they owned was welded on somewhere to this terrifying metal creature. It speaks again, voice two-tone and harrowing. There’s a certain pained tinge to its voice, as if producing words from its throat hurt.
“What…a…boy…you’ve grown…to be…”
MONSTER FOUND!
Mr. and Mrs. Dillinger. Seems to only appear when it and the person they want to talk to are completely alone. Capable of speaking, but not that well. Not that aggressive.
HE FEELS LIKE A GOD. it’s his first thought, hand raising to wipe blood off his nose. the only thing it succeeds in doing is smearing blood above his lip and onto his hand. kleinman looks up from his position leaned against the wall, grin tugging at his lips. he licks his lips, staring at jake with half lidded eyes, blood dripping down his nose. GOD, he loves fights! loves the thrill of them, loves the adrenaline, loves the bruises and black eyes and loves how he can’t get enough of them. pretty boy dillinger being here is just more to enjoy, really. he doesn’t bother getting up, partly because he wants to see how much more damage jake can do ( disgusting, disgusting! you WANT to get beat up by jake, don’t you?! ) .
❛ is that all you can do, pretty boy? ❜ he’s breathing hard -- jared displays bruises like trophies, and he’ll gladly take as many as he can get. ❛ c’mon, have you lost your fire or some shit? this is fuckin’ WEAK. ❜