For this little thing for the Puppet AU that you have @crossroadsdimension to blame for, I’m gonna be using an OC, one that @kalajorn and I created... You may know him, you may not, but either way, hope you enjoy.
Warning: (Implied death)
Blake’s life hadn’t been the same since Weirdmageddon spread world wide. He lost everything. He even watched as Dipper Pines- or better known as War- killed his brother by putting a bullet through his head not even two months into Weirdmageddon.
Now five months later he’s just scrapping by, eating whatever he can get his hands on and avoiding people as much as possible. Anyone would turn in a stranger for the sake of protecting their family and saving their own skins.
He’s shoved people into the hands of the enemy more times than enough. He was desperate was what he’d tell himself. If he had any other choice he wouldn’t have done it.
But that did little to stop the nightmares of hearing the screams of those he’d sent to their deaths.
It was a normal day when it happened.
He had been scavenging for food, his stomach aching for something to get him through to the next day.
And then he heard footsteps.
Blake was quick to make his way to the nearest building and climb to the roof so he could be out of sight- the trees had lost their leaves months ago so they weren’t good places to hide.
When he peeked down, that’s when he saw him.
The Harbinger of Death himself- Stanley Pines.
He was just as large and intimidating as the stories had portrayed them as. He looked around with cold, calculating brown eyes as he held a rifle in his hand with his finger on the trigger.
Blake had never been so scared in his life and he prayed that he’d be able to be the first to survive an encounter with him (if one could call it that).
The man walked into the building and Blake felt fear trickle down his spine- maybe he could escape now? Or maybe his best bet was to stay put?
Or maybe he should give up now and pray for a quick death?
He didn’t have long before Stanley walked back out and Blake held his breath in hopes that even this would contribute to his survival.
Stanley’s rifle suddenly pointed towards him and before he could scramble and run the bullet went through his head.