(WARNING! For torture and homophobic slurs and oh fuck this chapter’s a mess in general)
Marc sat up in the hospital bed, dialing the number for Mister Clay.
It had been hell for him to convince the staff to let him use his cell phone. He stated it was to reach an emergency contact. They didn’t seem to realize that said contact wasn’t able to bring him home.
Hearing the ringing, Marc looked at his fingers before gripping the hospital blanket.
(Warning! Beginnings of a gross/weird kind of torture, and vague implications of rape!)
The interior of the base seemed to go on forever.
Annette casually pulled at the petals of one of the flowers in the bouquet she now held. The bouquet itself held a confusing mishmash of various flowers.
Next to her, Horse-Face’s earlier partner sat pulling at his hair. Once in a while, he turned his head as though to look at her.
(If you’re wondering about the theme, I tried changing the eye-searingly pink sections of my first choice. Then I just went with something else)
(Warning! Implications of abuse, and a rather…bizarre ultimatum)
Annette huddled into the corner of her new residence, a prison cell that stunk of lemons. Nearby, Sagebear had a far smaller cage to herself.
The once pristine wedding dress was now becoming dingy, and grimy. Scattered about the cell floor was what remained of her ponytail. Annette was disgusted when she felt the badly-chopped knife cuts.
holy shit shark looks weird
So this is basically a “What if?” picture.
In this case: “What if Shark and Sinbad did have enough money for a proper honeymoon?”
Sinbad’s taking the picture. I contemplated having his hand in the picture, but Shark’s inaccurate body proportions seemed to make the picture look weird enough.
(WARNING! A lot of disgusting shit happens!)
It broke Sinbad’s heart to look at Shark crying.
It hurt even more to know he caused it.
After Dennis left to run errands, Sinbad had bore witness to Shark crying himself into an uneasy nap. The whole spectacle caused him to shed a few tears himself.
Shark was still trembling out of sadness. He lay on the floor now, curled up into himself. Sinbad could hear him whimper.
(Warning! A character nearly gets assaulted in this chapter!)
“Don’t play with your food, Ox-Head,” Horse-Face whispered, tapping a spot next to his partner’s plate. Ox-Head just set his fork down and stared at his plate.
“Sorry. Just worried about that blue woman The Builder’s off looking for.”
There was silence at the table for a few moments, before Horse-Face spoke up again. “I think we all are.”
(WARNING! Implied sexual situations, and a character is triggered!)
Shark and Dennis were caught off guard by the sound of a loud thump against the door. Dennis quick glanced over at the time on the stove.
“It would be about the time Mister Rotter got off work, wouldn’t it?” The instant Dennis opened the front door, Sinbad flopped into the house. His face connected with the floor, accompanied with a groan and shuddering.
“Rough day today, Sinbad?” Shark received a muffled ‘no’ in response.
(Warning! Implications of/vaguely described sex)
“Well! Good to see at least one thing hasn’t changed between universes,” Annette said while leaning up against a park bench. Next to her, Bill was attempting to gnaw a large part of the bench off.
As though in an attempt to escape, Sagebear had hidden her face behind some bushes. It seemed even she was unwilling to witness her owner being plowed. Instead, she made a digging motion with her paw.
“So I take it you’ve been lonely all this time?” Taking hold of his shoulder, Annette took note of his abrupt head-jerking motion. Bill had managed to tear off a good chunk of wood in the process.
(Warning! A character has a seizure, amongst other reasons there should be warnings)
“I’d like to meet the idiot who sold that man a firearm,” The Builder muttered while watching TV. Smoking a menthol cigarette, they waited for their dinner in bed.
It was one of those times where the pain was overwhelming. Nonetheless, they still kept their trusty hunting knife nearby.
“Where the fuck are my soylent tacos?! I swear, Moony takes forever to grind meat…” Grabbing a nearby ashtray, The Builder ground the remainder of their cigarette in. A second later, they pulled out a fresh one and jammed it into their mouth. “Now where’s my lighter…?”
I got nominated for a Liebster Award! Courtesy of FiendLikeAQueen of Bloodlines!
…To be honest, I have no idea what exactly I’m supposed to do. Apparently, you are to answer a set of questions given by the nominator, and then choose 5-10 other blogs to nominate that are under 200 followers. Then go onto their blog, tell them they’ve been nominated, and leave a link to their post.
I’m not good at choosing, however. So to whoever is following me, feel free to fill out this if you desire! (…And I’ve already done this wrong, I’m sorry)