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rockphos · 4 months

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hello hi wifi bet you won't do a scenerio where you're baking together with the pastas ‼️ I want messy ass kitchen shenanigans ‼️ who'd make a mess yet have delicious food? super clean but disgusting food?

if you don't wanna do this it's ok 🐧

hey penpen!! dw about it, since this scenario is a wholesome one i’ll try to write the wholesome fanon version of them so here goes

cw: wholesome. if you're looking for dark content, I'M SORRY word count: 482

toby would MESS THE FUCK UP like no joke the counter is full of flour there are chocolate chips everywhere. toby goes “CHOCOLATE CHIPS CHOCOLATE CHIPS—WOO!” it’s to the point you can’t tell if the whooping is real or if it’s a vocal tic.

the food you made comes out…decent. because all he did was just dump a full bag of chips into the cookie dough. no way in hell are you letting him touch the food. oh, but cleanup is going to be a pain.

ben can’t bake so he just watches you.

actually you don’t know if he can’t touch the stuff because he’s an apparition or if it’s because he just…doesn’t want to.

baking with ben is miserable. you cannot convince me otherwise. but he eats the food like a little bitch anyway.

bonus: he calls the whole mansion over to eat the cookies while you’re asleep so you have none left for breakfast/snacks tomorrow.

jeff… uh. i can see him absolutely torching the place. baking with him is barely baking, it’s more of trying to get him not to blowtorch the dough to bake it.

“y/n what if i blowtorch the whole thing” no. no, jeff. that’s not how it works.

but if you’re dating jeff, chances are you’re the type to let your intrusive thoughts win anyway.

there is no food when you’re done.

ej is actually decent!! he’s calm and collected and he knows what he’s doing. it’s more likely that you don’t know what you’re doing and he guides you.

oh, he stands behind you and gently holds your hands and guides you in kneading the dough, and you feel his breath on your neck and he says “yes, that’s it, darling. you’re doing so well.”

you’re too busy blushing by the end of it to actually savor the cookies. and all you can think of when eating the leftovers the next day is how he held you…

you’re saving baking with ej for a special occasion. your heart can’t handle this.

not sure if you want slenderman but i really cannot imagine him baking as the operator. but i did say it’ll be wholesome so here goes

slender’s tentacles basically do everything for you. “don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll do all the work. sit back and relax, my dear.” he reassures you that it’s not a burden and insists, but when you whine that it’s not fun when you don’t do it together, he lets up.

he still doesn’t let you do a lot of work though. but occasionally he’ll scoop up a bit of dough from the bowl and feed you, so you can’t complain.

if you decide to cheekily suck on his finger, he’ll chuckle.

“my dear, we can save that for later. it is unsanitary.” you pout as he washes his hands again.

the cookies come out delicious though. you can’t complain.

and he feeds you by hand. and you get to suck on his fingers playfully. you can’t complain.

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rockphos · 4 months

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I LOVE THIS IM GINNA IFJMG OKGSHJSSJNSENNE

sage forest mental institution.

chapter 2. in which you try to unfuck your situation, but you get fucked all over again anyways. 2.8k words

You awoke to two men standing over you, and as you slowly regained your bearings, you realized you were on the hard concrete floor, and those two were Masky and Jeff, and they were yelling at each other.

“YOU’RE JUST A WEAK HUMAN WITH A DISGUSTING COMPASSION FOR HUMAN LIFE,” Jeff half-sang half-yelled at the other.

“YOU’RE GETTING IN THE WAY OF OUR ESCAPE,” retorted Masky loudly.

You’d had enough. Raising two fists, you targeted their crown jewels, sending both doubling over to the floor. You heard a “fucking bitch” drowned in pain, most likely from Jeff. You sat cross-legged between the two sprawled on the floor, an “oh I’m gonna feel this for days” coming from Masky.

I’m about to get killed anyway according to Jeff, you thought, and so you grabbed both by the hair, eliciting howls from both of them. “My balls, my hair, my balls, my hair,” moaned Jeff.

“Shut up, this is what we honestly deserve,” grunted Masky. Mm, handling patients roughly, you thought to yourself, what great work ethic.

You took a deep breath before continuing.

“What,” you began, “is going on for one of my patients to burst through a window, choke me, and for the other one to come running and attack the other?”

They both stayed silent. One—Masky—looked to the other, and seemed to reach a silent agreement.

One second you were in control, and the next you were on the ground again, your skull colliding with rough concrete, oh how head trauma seemed to love you, and the breath pressed out of your lungs as Masky held you to the ground. Of all things, you thought, you could get a better look at him now. Brown hair and eyes with prominent brows and sideburns, mid to late 20s, a far more human-looking person than Jeff, who stood to the side, holding a glass shard, ready to pierce your throat.

“Keys,” said Masky calmly, but you knew it was actually a demand, and if you couldn’t meet that demand, you’d die. Likely swift and painless, but death nonetheless. Or maybe the blood would enter your lungs and you would drown in your own blood. You didn’t want to think about it, with all the shit you’d been through today. But it was because of the events of that day that you lost the grip on your conscience and humanity, and choked out a weak “wait”.

And they actually somehow waited. You saw your chance, and took it.

You took in whatever air you could, and breathed out, “Keys in back, follow me.” A beat passed before Masky pulled you up by your collar, with Jeff’s glass shard following. Both stared at you expectantly.

“Well?” Snarled Jeff unkindly.

“Uh.” An intelligent response, once again, before Masky pulled you forward roughly. It then registered that now you had to follow through with your lie, and that you probably couldn’t let violent asylum patients out into town, and that Andrea didn’t even give you any keys in the first place because she probably expected you to let them die.

Wait, they’d killed people before me in this asylum? Explained why Andrea was so eager to get out, and why she was so cranky upon your arrival. Maybe cranky didn’t suit a situation where you were supposed to fear for your life. Okay, maybe they killed those at the main branch of the asylum.

Your feet obediently walked, doing you a favor because you had no clue where the keys were. You prayed that your feet would lead you to the main counter, where you could hopefully rummage around for keys, and buy yourself time, whether it be figuring out which key worked, or just rummaging around in general.

“So…” you began, voice echoing throughout the empty halls—their yells earlier had such noisy echoes, it hurt your ears—causing both men to snap their attention to you. “Are you two, like, friends, or—“

“No,” snarled Jeff. “You think I would be friends with a pussy like him?” He scoffed. “Actually, why the fuck am I talking to you?” He questioned, and examined the shard in his hand, as if he was about to jab it into your neck any time now. You wanted to bank on your usefulness to them by being able to find the key, but you had no idea if they actually needed you to find the key, or if they would realize soon that they didn’t actually need you. Why couldn’t they bust out of their cells like Jeff did? Then you realized nearly all the cells here were maximum security and didn’t have glass windows like Jeff’s did.

What kind of poor asylum design was this?

Maybe the keys were cards. Maybe the keys were actually a set of codes. Maybe the keys were both. Maybe—

The front desk was in sight, and you gulped. You hadn’t finished scheming your escape from two crazed murderers. What happened if you escaped, anyway? Let loose two whole violent patients—one of whom was an actual murderer—to the town? Wait, how did Masky escape, anyway? Wait, how many friends did they have to let loose?

You’d get your answers in due time. For now, hands shaking, you rummaged through the compartments, the drawers of lanyards, notebooks, and pens.

“Oi,” threatened Jeff, “If you take any longer, I’m gonna suspect that you don’t actually know anything…”

You gulped. The only thing saving you right now was your uniform. If they hadn’t been delivered to you last minute, you might have showed up in civilian clothing, prompting them to deem you useless and for Masky to let Jeff loose on you. But for now, you fumbled and fumbled, until you finally came across a drawer. Second to the left, fourth down, keycards.

Hands still shaking, you grabbed the keycards bound together by rubber bands. None of them were labeled, as you’d expected in this very strange asylum at this point, and hoped that they were actually access cards.

“Wow, well done,” drawled Jeff. “Finally did something useful, huh?” He spoke as he stepped over to grab your chin, tracing your cheek with the glass shard in hand. You flinched, causing the shard to dig in deeper and widen the already wide grin on his face. It wasn’t until Masky glared at him that he stopped. “Fine, fine,” he groaned. “But I get the kill later.”

Masky sighed. “Come,” was all he said as he turned on his heel, and Jeff shoved you forward.

You found yourself being led to a cell where it seemed another in their group resided, though you couldn’t tell what they looked like, till the keycard surprisingly unlocked the door to reveal the occupant, a blond man with blue eyes.

“Brian,” said Masky.

You don't know what came over you, what possessed you to do this, but in a spur of genius, you slowly backtracked, slipping past Jeff, who grabbed the keycards for himself. You needed to think quick. Move quick, and assess the other three’s positions quick. Adrenaline pumped in your veins.

The guy named Brian was slowly standing up to move out of the cell. Quick.

Masky was stepping forward to help him up, in a strange show of compassion for, as Jeff put it, human life. Quickly.

Jeff made the mistake of stepping past you to stand alongside Masky.

NOW.

Faster than your mind could process it, your foot shot out, catching a surprised Jeff, and sending him crashing into Masky, who fell onto the padded floor near Brian, who jumped aside. Almost as if out of an anime, you felt strength surge within you, and you knew exactly what you needed to do.

You slammed the door close with a satisfying click and beep.

All three men stared at you through the gaps between the bars on the door. You stared back, heart pounding so hard in your chest you thought it might explode. And all hell broke loose, screaming within the cell, Jeff pounding on the door, calling you strings of profanities that you could never dream of recreating, Masky looking at you in shock and anger, and Brian staring at you in awe? Shock? Confusion? Anger? Honestly, the rage in Masky’s eyes shook you to the core. You never imagined that a human’s eyes could hold such intensity of emotion.

Swiftly, he got up, shoved Jeff away from the bars, eliciting even more violent screams and threats from the latter, and grabbed the bars on the upper half of the door.

“You,” he seethed. But he never continued. Instead, he rammed himself against the door, again and again, its hinges rattling and threatening to warp and bend.

So you turned tail and ran. You ran and you ran, and you knew that if they got out of the asylum, outside of it was the first place they’d check, so you ran, turning and twisting corners, and sliding down to hide against a wall, panting and huffing.

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe that you actually pulled that off! You wanted to jump and cheer and scream for joy. And you wanted to stop yourself from doing that, given your current situation, so you compromised and settled for internal celebration. And you celebrated for a grand total of about 2 seconds, before you heard the impossibly loud thunder of a metal door crashing to the ground, distant yells, and thudding footsteps, many of them, and you accounted for three in your head.

So much for taking care of patients.

“Interesting,” said a voice next to you, startling you. It was by a miracle that you clamped a hand over your mouth at the last minute before you could actually let out a screech.

Chuckling, a tall man (how had you not noticed him) peered down at you from within his cell. A row of sharp white teeth greeted you, like a shark, surrounded by grey skin. You could explain the sharp teeth, maybe he filed them down, and the grey skin even, maybe he had some vitamin deficiency combined with no sunlight, but his eyes.

You couldn’t explain where his eyes were.

Black liquid oozed from what seemed to be cavities where his eyes were supposed to be. He had no eyes, and thus no vision, according to common logic, so how was he peering through bars at you? How was it that you couldn’t see his eyes, but somehow he was looking right at you, grinning?

He chuckled again, deeply, and put more of his weight on the door, leaning on the bars he held. “What’s your name?”

You stumbled over your name. It was an amazing stumble that deserved a gold Olympics medal. Your name rolled off his tongue smoothly once you actually let out a coherent version of your name.

“I’m EJ. E for Eyeless, J for Jack. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he greeted. So he really was eyeless. An insane patient with manners. You stopped yourself at that point in your train of thought, for the two you knew out of the four so far were violent criminals, and this one could be no different, with his frightening set of teeth. Just what did he do with those teeth? Eat raw meat?

“I’m, uh. Um. Nice to meet…you?” Everything you were saying today was so intelligent.

He grinned at you. “I see you met Jeff, at least. And two others, I believe, from what I hear,” he says lowly, almost as if out of consideration for your situation, so that the other three wouldn’t catch onto your position. As you were about to run from him out of reflex, you know, as people usually do when they meet someone creepy right after a scary encounter with crazed murderers, he said, “Don’t worry. I’m not here to get you killed. It’d be nice if we could talk. Been here a while with no company except Jeff to sneer in my face that he’s gonna take the bodies of his victims and toss them into a pile where I can’t take their kidneys,” he sighs.

Kidneys?

“Are you… a cannibal or something?” You asked cautiously.

He rewarded you with another grin. “That would imply that I eat others of my own species,” he answered. “So I suppose I used to be a cannibal.”

Amazing. On top of being a cannibal, he was deluded into thinking that he wasn’t human. Though, if he wasn’t human, it would also explain the fact that he had no eyes. On another note, you had no idea what to say in response. You very timidly asked, “Do they…taste good?”

EJ roared with laughter. “Oh, yeah. Sometimes they taste like nothing, sometimes they taste amazing. Depends on how hungry I am,” he said as he shrugged.

Ten seconds of silence passed as you thought hard about what to say next to a delusional, crazed murder-cannibal. Then you swore you heard thundering footsteps. They were getting closer.

They were getting closer.

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized what EJ did, with his uproarious laughter. And he knew it, too, judging by the smirk on his face.

“Over here!” He hollered.

“YEAH, I FUCKING KNOW,” came Jeff’s distant reply.

Your brows twisted, and you did the first thing that came to mind: run.

But today, your collar was being tortured, as EJ’s surprisingly slender arm passed through the stupidly wide gaps between the bars (why were they so far apart? That’s some horrible security measure.) to grab the collar of your uniform, tugging you back, lest you be choked to death. And he pulled you back hard, judging from how hard your body slammed against the door.

You wanted to cry. You wondered what would happen to you now that you’d angered two, no, three madmen, one of whom was especially deranged. WhatthefuckdoIdowhatthefuckdoIdo—

To your horror, but just as expected, the three men caught up to you. In what you realized would be your last moments, you thought it pretty funny that three man were barreling straight at you in hospital gowns.

You cringed and expected impact.

The hand holding your collar began to vibrate, almost as if shaking and straining against some force. Cautiously, you cracked your eyes open to peek.

EJ’s gray hands were the only thing stopping Jeff’s fist from hitting you in the face.

“Hey, man,” growled Jeff. “Whatcha gonna do next, friendly fire? From inside that door?”

The noise that ripped itself from EJ’s throat next could only be described as inhuman. “I want her kidneys.”

Jeff was rendered speechless. “Dude, you can just have her kidneys AFTER I kill her, okay?”

“No,” insisted EJ childishly. “I wanna eat her alive.”

You whimpered. You had no idea what was going on, you had no idea what was going to happen, and you had no idea when he was going to eat you alive.

I’m gonna die as food to a cannibal.

“Please,” you begged, seeing it as your last resort. “I’ll do anything, anything, just keep me alive and in one piece. Please.”

Jeff seemed to pause and think, making a whole show of it by tilting his head to the side and looking diagonally upwards, even letting out an exaggerated “hmmmm”. Then he snorted. “Nah, just kidding.” He brought his hand up again to strike, when EJ roared, an inhumanly loud sound that had your hands snapping up to protect your ears, as well as Masky and Brian, was it? Only Jeff seemed unaffected.

“Jeez. You fallin’ for her or somethin’?” Scoffed Jeff. “Do whatever. Me, personally, I think I’ll go free Toby so Slendy won’t kill me for leaving his precious proxy behind or whatever, and then,” he got way too close to your face for your own comfort, “I’m gonna massacre your whole village, and I’ll drag you along so you can watch,” he cackled.

You could only describe your current impression of him as the evil witch from Snow White.

“I don’t know them,” you said intelligently.

Apparently, it really was intelligent of you. Jeff went silent for a bit.

“What.”

“Yeah, I don’t know them. Moved here two weeks ago, never talked to any of them,” you lied, trying to prolong your lifespan of about 30 seconds.

The man behind Masky—Brian—scoffed. “Can you just kill her, let EJ eat her and fucking free Toby already? You’re all so fucking childish, fighting over who gets to kill whom.”

You knew you were fucked.

lowkey i am ashamed of my writing abilities (or more precisely, lack thereof) and of how this chapter was written. if i could i'd rewrite.)

#oh my goodness #im going insane

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