Ok That Was Fucking Funny Good GODS

ok that was fucking funny good GODS

I was wondering why that Impossiball was getting bigger… and then it hit me!

- 🟠

me: attempting to be dark and mysterious on the ask blog

also me: heheheh succumb

*All of a sudden, out of nowhere, Kremy suddenly felt...perfectly healthy? He hadn't made any progress with a cure, and mere moments ago, he'd been deathly ill, just as expected. But now suddenly, the nausea seemed to leave him, and his skin and flesh felt sturdy once again.*

*But...how?*

*Just as he'd begun to ponder that, he could hear in the distance, muffled by audible enough to be recognized...ominous jazz.*

*No...somebody hadn't...had they?*

*Someone had made a deal with the Baron, for his health...and the poor ringmaster could probably guess who.*

*Kremy had been held up in Twig’s Inn before any of this had happened. He had been helping the brownie how he could, checking up with the other unfortunate souls to get caught up in this mess. He kept a relatively level-headed impression to the other carnies, but dread only seeped further into his mind. The scars and wounds that littered his arms, and the back of his neck, and his palms, had refused to heal, and it was getting harder to hide. And then those damned voices. Their cacophonous echoes of insecurities and paranoia practically deafening him.*

*He still hadn’t even talked to that clown. He was running out of time.*

*He was back in his room to take a breather, standing in front of his window with his arms crossed as he tried to just get his shit together while voices that weren’t his screamed at him. Gods, he could use a smoke right now.*

*The voices just kept getting louder and louder and CAN THEY JUST SHUT UP?*

*…And they did. Kremy blinked.*

“…What the fuck?”

*He had almost jumped at the fact that he was able to hear his own voice and his voice alone. The room was silent for the first time in days. What the fuck just happened? Was he…*

*He looked down at his hands, at the scales that adorned the back of them and the softer flesh that covered his palms. Not a single mark nor blemish. He checked the other parts of his body he had scratched or clawed at from the anxiety and found the same result.*

“What… Wh- how..?”

*And then he felt it. That horrifyingly familiar chill up his spine. A chill that could only be caused by the Baron. But this one, this one was not the type of chill caused by his mere presence. No, this was the type made when someone struck a deal with the man. His gaze snaps back up to the window at that oh so faint yet oh so dreadful sound of ominous jazz. He freezes.*

“…No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no-”

*He’s back to moving almost immediately. He grabs his hat and cane and swings open the bedroom door. He rushes through the hallway and down the stairs, calling a rushed apology to Twig as he passes her by.*

“SorryTwigsy,Ineedt’checksomethin’outI’mfeelin’wayfuckin’betterbythewaybutthat’spartoftheproblemsoI’llbeoutforabitBYE-”

*And he was out the door before she could even try to ask a question. He runs as fast as he could towards that music, something he never thought he’d actually do.*

“God damnit, god fuckin’ damnit you fucking idiot FUCK-” *Were the only words one could hear from Kremy when he runs past.*

*It better not be him. It can’t be him. Why would he do this. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Please don’t be too late. Don’t fucking cry.*

🕯️Light🕯️

BOY!!

man. y’all really like kremy lecroux huh.

*Kremy slightly grimaces once he had realized the slip-up he had made, privacy would be nonexistent in the eyes of the Baron.*

*He watches the Baron’s hand as it disappears into the dark, and his eyes lock onto the doll held in the man’s bony hands. His eyes go wide, the expression plastered on his face showing a fear even more severe than when the Baron had showed up in the first place.*

“Wh…”

*Once again he musters a nervous laugh that sounds more like a wheeze, to lighten the mood? To keep at least some wit about him? He’s not sure at this point.*

“Whaddaya plan on… on doin’ with that..?”

*The grip on his cane tightens further, but with no intent to use it.*

*The room begins to fog, and soft, ominous jazz begins to play, sounding in the distance at first but gradually growing closer. As the room darkens, the scent of cigar smoke becomes palpable.*

"Kreeeeemy..."

*Kremy tightens his grip on his cane out of instinct. He shifts his footing, taking on a more defensive stance.*

Who’s there? Gricko, I swear to the Baron if this is one of your pranks again.

*He attempts to appear as cold and threatening as possible, but there’s a tremble to his hands, his eyes are wide and frantically searching every corner of the room, and his breathing is slightly erratic.*