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itty-bitty-sunshine · 6 months

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Hello. I am back. I am stressed, but under significantly less stress. Immortality on my brain, words are foggy rn. Buckle in.

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They hadn't noticed how bad it's gotten. It spread over their flesh now. Immortality comes with a cost of living indefinitely, at losing everything. Yet no one dares to think about how it does not necessarily mean immunity.

It had been a long time for Perkeo. Not even they knew when they first came to be. Time stretched and blended together when you have no use for counting it. Counting was for those who didn't have enough time after all.

But now Perkeo sits at home. Unable to do much else. Their skin had darkened significantly, changing dulling into a slightly greyish colour. The flesh sat heavily on their frame. It had gotten oh so bad. How could they have not realized?

They could feel it writhing under their skin. The sensation shooting shivers up their spine, only with the few nerves that were left undamaged. They groaned as they felt their abdominal muscles and organ walls give way, shifting out of place. It started from the inside out.

They couldn't even muster the strength to call in sick today. Well, they probably wouldn't have this position for much longer anyway. Oh, the boys will be so disappointed. You were really glad to have spent at least this much time with them. Heh, you were worried about finding someone who you wouldn't have to worry about 'having enough time'. The joy un finally discovering them must have distracted you.

You felt it years ago, but now? Now, there is no turning back. As your stomach acid pools in your gut, shredding the rest of your organs. Muscle tear with every slight movement you make. It hurts, so badly. No blade or arrow ever left you feeling like this. No other 'death' had ever left you trembling like this. But you knew death was waiting for you.

Bones snap and cartilage disintegrates, tendons ripping, blood pooling. You struggle to keep your eyes open now. It's all too much. Your vocal chords are torn from the pained whimpering you wanted to scream. Perkeos organs started failing one by one. None leading to their death, unfortunately. Liver, intestines, stomach, lungs, heart. They continued laying, with barely holding onto consciousness. Their brain had not become dysfunctional, yet. Without the incessant beating of their heart, they were left in silence. Their thoughts were a quiet buzz filling their brain. Slow, but still there nonetheless.

They need you.

You should try to get up.

Hhhnngggg owwww.

Maybe you shouldn't even bother, they'll move on!

It hurts so much.

Atleast I got to spend a bit of time with them.

You never got to say goodbye.

Your thoughts dissipate as the rot takes over. Oh? Yeah, the rot. Your body, although resilient, couldn't deal with repairing itself constantly. Especially after extreme deaths. Ones where it would have to pull together your disfigured and scattered remains. So it did a makeshift job. Just for the time being. You ignored it. Eventually, it would take over, decomposing your body from the inside out. You had essentially been a living corpse lately, worrying Sun and Moon to no end. Well, now they wouldn't need to worry, Perkeo thinks to themselves. Their body had been put through so much, this weakend state was only necessary. It would be impossible to remain in perfect condition, despite its distaste for staying dead. It would eat itself apart, until it collapsed and could rebuild from scratch. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Flesh and bone crumbled away, only to reunite, forming a "new body". A refurbished one, one that will have longer till it inevitably collapses. Before it rebuilds itself again. Thought this process takes a tremendous amount of time, as well as trial and error. Struggling to recuperate itself, Perkeos life being a test of viability. They could die hundreds, if not thousands of times before it is completely functional. This could take up to a millenium to fix. Surely, going to be terminated from their current position before the process is complete.

Their brain agonizingly started shutting down, consciousness leaving them for what will never be the last time. Their flesh begins corroding.

If only they could have found their boys sooner.

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Basically Perkeos immortality doesn't mean immunity. They will pay the price with not only pain, death, and resurrection. But their body cannot physically take the strain of healing itself. So it found a way to cope. Rotting. Decomposition doesn't mean death, it's a cycle of life. They will make it back... unfortunately the dca may never see them again.

Imagine rotting from the inside out. Feeling your body collapse and corrode around you, as your mind screams for release. Your brain can't take it. But you can never submit to death. Feeling your flesh, thick with festering bacteria, sliding on your bones, feeling trapped in the skin falling off your body. Your insides dissolving into an acidic burning concoction, sloshing around with every slight shift. Your bones, ligaments, tendons, and muscles shredding. Loosing the pretty voice so many of your friends throught the ages held dear :)

(What's bolded is my main idea, the rest is filler. I dont think it was written very well though.)

Hope you like it sunsun, I'm tired and my words don't sound right. I can't express my thoughts, but I hope atleast some of my thoughts came across.

Take a study break honey. Drink something warm, eat something healthy, go to bed, ily.🧡

Wait did I just write gore???

WHAT A HELL OF A STUDY BREAK THAT WAS HOLY FAZBEAR SUKI

I FREAKING LOVE YOUR BRAIN DO YOU KNOW THAT

I HAND YOU SMALL SILLY THINGS AND YOU GRAB AND BREAK AND TWIST THEM INTO A BLOODY AGONIZING PATHETIC MESS AND I LIVE FOR IT

ALSO THAT'S SO GODDAMN SAD WHAT

NOOOOOOO GIVE MY BABY THEIR FRIENDS BACK THEY JUST GOT THEM 💀

I GIVE YOU AN UNBREAKABLE TOY AND YOU FIND EVERY WAY YOU COULD POSSIBLY USE TO BREAK THEM, STARS

God imagine if they came to find you somehow

#FRIENDLY REMINDER TO EVERYONE ELSE THIS IS NOT CANON TO STORYLINE THEY ARE HAPPY #BUT HOLY FAZ #SHAKING YOU SHAKING YOU SHAKING YOU THIS IS THE BESTEST THING IN THE WORLD I COULDVE TAKEN A BREAK TO #I LOVE YOU SO MUCH #I WASNT DOING MY BEST IN EFFORT BUT ON STARS WILL I BE DOING NOW AFTER THAT #I LOVE YOU SO MUCH DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH THOSE THINGS MEAN TO ME #YOU ARE THE ABSOLUTE BEST WHERE WOULD I BE WITHOUT YOU #immortal au #immortal au writing #✨️: suki writing #cw gore #tw gore #cw implied death #we should probably start putting content warnings on top of those asks too tbh #most of them have at least implied death and blood and violence of some sort #cw sickness #cw rotting #cw rot

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mcskullmun · 2 months

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Did the tma dating sim that’s floating around tumblr, wanted to write about the character I made, a corruption aligned Oc friends with Lonely!Martin. Uh warning no actual dating happens, just a lot of the Horrors. And also I am experimenting with a very different writing style (designed to be unsettling/disconnected, just a heads up). Enjoy:

I am a researcher that the Magnus Institute, London. It is long, monotonous and dull work, and I am certain my colleagues dislike me immensely. This is understandable.

I spend more time in the library than with them, Sasha seems to have noticed. She tries to talk to me, which… I could take or leave to be honest. The books say more interesting things.

I have a feeling… well just a feeling really. Like something is deeply wrong with my place in all of this. Like I wandered in from the cold and brought a little of it with me. I leave footprints by the doors.

Timothy stoker seems to get along well with me. I do not get along well with him. I think him and Sasha are trying to make friends with me, which is not understandable. Jon just stares. I do not get the work done, but he seems to respect my dedication, even if it is not in productive areas. I read about Peter Lukas, Elias mentioned him, and feel relief that I am not That alone.

I reach out to Tim.

We go to a museum, he is animated in a way that makes me listen. By the time we leave I feel I know who he is. I vow to return the kindness.

So in turn I speak to Sasha. She is less easy to talk to, I should’ve been nicer in the library. But she is smart, we find interests in common.

Martin seems distressed. I do not know him well enough to tell.

There’s a feeling. More than a feeling. I lie awake and dream of black mould covering my windows. The dark is nice enough to grow in.

Martin is gone. I feel bad, Jon seems on edge. He doesn’t like me now, his “Martin Insults” find a new home with my reading hobby. I bring him some old Spider statements in spite. I feel bad later.

I get Martin’s number from Tim.

-You K?

-Fine thanfk U <3

The heart seems misplaced, given that our one conversation so far was him offering me tea, which I refused saying I preferred coffee. He has avoided me ever since. He also does not know who is texting him, so that is also… concerning.

I attempt to tell Jon, but he is still not over the Spider Incident.

I go home and worry. A tissue comes away red, but I do not worry about that. I do not get sick.

I continue to not get sick. Vision blurry. Head aching slowly. It is probably the coffee. I should drink less. More? I read about a man who loses his mind.

There is a man named Michael and he stares at me through the cafe window. Except it is not a man and it is not called Michael and I am sitting opposite it. It shakes my hand. And talks, a little, with a laugh that echoes all the way down.

I meet it later, in the graveyard. I tell Sasha to call me at midnight, and to tell Tim if I don’t answer. I tell Tim I’m going to do something stupid.

It is stupid, and maybe dangerous as I fall under the mass of worms that had once been human. The thing who answers to Michael for convenience drags me away, plunging its knife-like fingers into my shoulder and prying away the worms, blood pooling on the grass. It tells me not to worry. I don’t.

Tim tells me I am pale. He waits in my apartment past midnight, and asks about the blood. I tell him I jumped a barbed fence. He cleans the wounds and looks at me as if I have lied to him. I look back as if I haven’t.

The blood is coming from my shoulder. So when I rub my eye it is strange to see red.

Martin returns, with worms that are familiar. I ask him if he met a man that wasn’t. He looks sad, so I change the subject and offer him tea. It helps.

We talk, and I fall asleep beside him. Something shifts within my shoulder, but I keep it to myself. Martin has not earned that much respect from me. To spread the disease is to weaken the host.

Martin is my friend. My colleagues do not hate me, besides Jon. He watches the way I walk with caution. I leave footprints by the corners.

Tim does not seem to mind. Or maybe he doesn’t notice. He takes me for a coffee, but I cannot drink it. Vile things churn within me. I offer to pay anyway, because he looks afraid. I stanch the bleeding from my nose with a paper towel, and promise I do not get sick.

There is a book within the library. It sings in caution of a thing that waits to embrace you, in slow decay. I read the moulding pages like they are words carved into my skin. I ask Jon to do some digging on Jane Prentiss. His mouth says he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. His eyes say he does.

She finds me in a half sleep, at the edge of Martin’s bed, watching over him. He says he sleeps better knowing I’m there. I feel better knowing this. She finds me waiting for her, and tells me I am part of the herd with no Shepard. The sweeping tide of decay. The change that makes anew.

I ask her for her name, knowing it. She leaves me, and I sleep. I dream of things growing in the hollow places in my mind.

She visits us all.

Tim is alone, I have to warn him of the Tide. He is not ready, as I am. We escape, CO2 stupid and alive. I am a hive, bloodied and delirious. But Tim makes it out okay. Surgery will help him. I am consumed.

Bandaged faces stare blankly from across archive shelves. It’s easy to hide the things that move beneath strips of off-white gauze.

I smile, and my lips feel warm and wet. Blood runs down my chin, like rain down a windshield. There is nothing that will fix it. But he looks afraid. I’m worried about Tim.

It’s a dark night in bones that feel hollow and eaten. Movement fills the stillness, as blood drips from my curled hands, hovering over the sink. I breathe spores onto the glass, hiding a smile that is red.

I go out into the garden and lay among the grass, where a man lies half way to where I am going. The things that made their home in him are mine, and I theirs. She is grateful, eternally. I am consumed, and home.

Tim is gone. Sasha tells me he is “on holiday”. But she looks different. Like a lie. So maybe she’s lying.

I talk to Martin, and he tells me I look sick. I promise him I do not get sick, but he makes me tea. I pour it into my skin, and my residents hum in appreciation. I reapply the bandages, and thank Martin for the tea. He tells me my nose is bleeding. I tell him it will pass.

It does not. I fall deeper into solitude. They are hungry and hungry and hungry and I cannot give them enough of myself to sate. To sate a thousand mouths. I sink deeper into fear and they do not relent. I awake weakened, and my skin is soft and comes away dusty.

Elias tells us what he is. Jon tells him we are not. But he Knows. He sees the things that crawl and bite. He tells me I cannot survive on my own fear. I tell him I need help. I need him to save what is left of me. He tells me that the only path leads deeper into the woods.

I kill a woman, walking home through a field. The air is heavy with pollen, but it is not. Spores. She chokes in a cloud that waits hungrily for her body. I let it consume her instead of me.

My nose stops bleeding, as do my eyes. For the first time I look clearly upon what I have done. I will not do it again.

I turn to slow and creeping rot. Enough fear to get by on. Little enough not to hurt. Tim comes back, and tells me I look sick. Martin gives him a look, and hands me a tissue. The bleeding will stop on its own. It does now.

Tim is going to leave. Martin and I will stay, to distract Elias. Something to See. Saying goodbye to Tim is heavy, as if the air is filled with spores. I tell him he is my friend, and he tells me I will be okay. He wipes my cheek with his thumb, and it is red.

Elias tells me I am Interesting. He tells me to open the door. And he will save me. He will sever the parts of me that rot. He says he will take away Martin. I open the door. My skin flakes away with the impact of the punch, but it is worth it. Martin bandages my hand, and tells me it will be okay.

It is not.

Jon’s heart monitor flicks a steady pace. He is dead, by all means. But not the same way that Tim is dead. He had not been ready. He hadn’t let go.

I find another person, lost among the Underground. They sit, crying. Waiting for someone to pick them up. Martin calls me, and I leave them to live. He tells me he is afraid. He tells me my flat is not for people to live in. I tell him that’s okay. But I sleep at his anyway, careful not to leave footprints on the carpet.

I find Elias in prison. He tells me the hunger will return, in an endless cycle. I punch him, leaving blood across his face that is all my own. I tell him I will not kill another.

Martin goes missing. Melanie tells me he is here, just not Here. I tell her I don’t understand. I do.

We play video games, the last of us. I tell her I am sad we cannot play characters that walk among the mycelium. She tells me I am weird, which, fair. But she cleans the blood from her controller without complaining. I think we’re friends.

Jon wakes up. He hates me. He Sees what I am.

I miss Martin.

His flat is empty. I sleep there still, my own lost to Rot.