OutofOrder: Woah, what the fuck is going on what happened
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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we're not kids anymore.
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@thxmangle
OutofOrder: Woah, what the fuck is going on what happened
You're awesome thats why i followed you
ooc: -bathes in this bath of praise-
i bet they had a ridiculously cute children’s cartoon at one point to promote the restaurant
When you’re trying to scare your friends…
Didn’t know which outfit you wanted so I chose this one!
Why did you start following me?
Do it on anon or not. I’m really curious about why you started following my blog.
the sudden change of temperament is something that’s both surprising &&. expected. ford wants to U N D E R S T A N D —- god knows he tried — but look where T H A T endeavour landed him.
if he was in the right sort of mind for humour, he’d pause to think —- about how a proclamation of innocence can change somebody &&. incite a guilty conscience. he’d marvel at how this hasn’t happened here.
but he isn’t of T H A T mind. the unspoken rejection brings rarely felt anger ( &&. confusion ); the calmness dissipates as he realizes they’d wanted to use him.
it hadn’t worked. now he is useless &&. trapped.
S H E was never his ’ friend '
' ' ' ' i̢ ̕͜͠ţ̵͢ŕ͜҉i͢e̸d̀͞ ̴͢t̀o̵͠ he̢̛l ̵ ————— í͏ ̢͞j̨̛us̨͠͠ ̢͠ a̷͘ǹ̕͏t͝e҉d̵̡ ̴́to͏̷ į ̷͘T̸̷͟ ͡R͏͜͟ I ͞҉E͡ ̧D͞ ̨͟͜… I ́͢ T̨̕ R̸ I̴̸͘ E͏̷ D̸̶ ’ ’ ’ ‘
exhaustion almost buckles him, but he F I G H T S it. he refuses to be seen as W E A K by one of the things that has taken his life.
’ ’ ’ ‘ l̸̡͜e̢͢a҉v̵̧̕e ̶̢’̶͟͡e̶̕͠ ́͠͡al͡҉o̴̢͟n̵ȩ̶̛ ’ ’ ’ ’
"͍̙̠͕͔̂̈̇ͦ͌͐ͤ̉̎ͦ̆̐̍ͣ̆̏̈́̀̀̚͝C̝̰̤̹̲̫͓̺̻̖̬̬̤̺̝̥ͭ̇̽̅͆͒ͯ͒̔̎̄̆͛̈ͬͫͭ͢a̓͊̄̐̀̍͛̓̊̆͋͊ͪͯ̑̆̚̚͠҉͏̟͙̦̹̫̰̝̯͚͙̠͓̪l̑̋̌̒̋ͬ̂̊̏̒̈́ͤ͏̺͇͖̤̤̟̬͍̮̣̺͞͝m̶̧̳̲̰̤̦̯̹͍̘̺̜̝͙͙̘̰̱̞ͪͭ̄͛͐̇̾̅͌ͨ̾̂ͤͣ͂͛́̚͘͜ͅ ̶̨̡̪̼̝͕̅͋ͭͤ̇ͮ̑͒̓ͩ̐ͮ̓̓̓̋͐͂ͯd̘̜̼̖̖ͥ͒͋͗͋ͣͣ̅̉̆ͦ̒͐ͨ̌́ǫ̶̺̯̳̹̭͇̬̻̜̤̪͚̺̤̳̠̹̹͖̓ͫ̎̀͂ͭͫ̈́ͦͮͬ̽͢w̸̢͕̝̥̦̗̞̲̭̰̫͍̲ͨ̓̔́ͯ̔͑̀ͥ̂̍̍̎̐̅͋n̵̟͎̙̟͕̿̽̈́ͤ̆ͩ̇͂ͣ͞͡.̵̜̥͕̬͖̱̙ͤ̆̅̂͂̾̅ͮ̄̄͡͞"̧̨̣͓̼̱̺̘̻͍̰͈̮̺̦͒ͫ͑̾̏͊̏̽̿ͧ̏̀̈́̕͘
The command was firm and clear, even through all the static. The squeeze to his limbs tightened, but not enough to try and hurt him. Unlike a python readying to devour its prey, this seemed more like she was trying to ground him, snap him out of this pity he suddenly brought on himself from what she said.
"͇̟ͬ́I͚̝̙̺̗̕ ̩̩̰ͦͅͅk͖̗̩ͣ͗n͇͛͞ǫ͍̾ͣw̯̹̲̦̳͑̔̽̌̑͢ ̨̠̰̣̯̝̹̚.̊̆̂͝.͕̳̥̖̝̅ͨ͗̋.̳̻͖̠ ͙̇ͬb͚͔̙̪̮̥͒͂̑̾u̙̣t̙̱͙ͬ̄ͯ͌̅ͨ ̨̪̘͎̋̿w̱̯̯̫͇̭̘ͨ̈́̔͋̽̽́h̋ͥ̉̈ͫ̓ͥͅȩ̜̟͈͆n̋ͦ͐̊̾̈́ ̫̠͙̰̘̼̉ͩͫw̦̽ͨ͊̏̽a͚̝̜̳͎̣̓̾s̶̭̫̯͔̙̭̘ͯ͛́͊̋̓ ̩̯̮̬͒̒̎̐ţ̙̖͇̎̏h̞̳͍̦̋ͦ̂͒͛́ë̪̌̀̔ͮͣͬ ̜̱̳̤̉̅̓ͤ̓͟l̞̏̏̒̓ͣͧa͈̲̞ͫ͆̚st̵̹̪̣͇̎ͪ̈́ ̲ͫ̈́t̺͙̝̿ͧͮ̊͊ͤ͞i̜̺̗̜̇ͧ͊̌͛ͯ͜m̘̤̙̦̞̓̾ͬ̇ͩ̀ẽ͓̲̖̯ ̢̟̰̗̲͔̟͖͗̇͂y͙̣̤̬̙̖̙̔ͫ̽ͪ'̠̟̼̈ ͍͈͔͉̞̯̪̅̊f͈̰̖͍̤͑̃͘o͔͛̓̂͗uͪ͋̓͗n̷̥͈̰̫̠̣d̢̦̯̤͒̈̏͊ ̬̰͎̫ͫͮ͂̎͒gͭͭ̔͌̒ͦ҉̠̰̬͔͎ͅh̓̈́͛̉͐ͩ҉̱͖̲̙o̱͐͛̏ͣ̾s̜̙ͬͧͪͥ̔ͭt͗̒͟s̮͊̍́ ̲͒̈́ͦ͌ͭ̎͐t̩͕̖͍͖̘'͓͍͔̠̙͓̬͆̀b҉͉̬̘̺̟e̳̻̦̰̭ ̧̼̠̘̦̹̰̇̃ͪl͇̙͉̏̎͐̎͡ͅo͚̾ͥ͊ͯ͑̊g̦͉̏ͮ͑̿̏͂i̙̘͉̋͞c͔̜͖̳͚̑́̂ͭͪa̼ͦ̔͠l͆͋ͭͭ̇͏̥?̧͙͎̲̦̰̞̞͛̌ͥ"̱̽̈̏͌̋ͤ̚ͅ There was a hesitance when she spoke to him, a long s i l e n t minute as she took in the silence around them, eyes flickering back and forth before coming back to him.
"̭̜̘̟͔͚͎Dḙ̯͔̱̱̥s͓̖p̮i̺̳̱̥̺t̠e̠̬ͅ ̞̫̲̘̥̦͔w̻h̳̥̩̙͚̳̩a͖̮̼̳̣̮̗t͕̲̬ ̼y͖̮̲̟̣̜ou̯ ͎͕̻͇̤̱͔m̦̥̟̭̗̹̬a͇̮̩̖y̳̳̰͈͈̺ ̩ṭh̭̖̣̝ͅi̬̞̩͔͖̜n̠̦̘̥͈̩k̺̱̰̜,͙̪̲͈͍̲̥ ̭͙t͍͇̻̭̙̙͎i̺͍m̥̭͔̟̯͚̣ẹ̱̦̜̪ͅ ̬͇ͅd̗̤̲̥̙͔̱o̹̩̙̬̝e͙sn̪̣̱̬̩'͔̠̦͉̙̦t̮͕̖͓̞̟ ͕̱͇͉̬̜̙h̗͓͉̫e͇a̟̮͕̯͍̯l͙̰̲̳̖͚͍ ͍̙̺͉a̺̱͎̱l̫̘̝̥̞̝l ̣͔̠͇̪͓̟w͎̦o̳̤̫̱ͅu͕̱͚̦͇̜nd̝̹͔̼s̱̗̗̼.̱̣͓̣̜ͅ ̱W͎͍̹̲̥͎e͈̝̠̤̻ͅ'͇͖̻̠r̥͖̭e̠̲̺͔ ̹̭a̠̭̦l͎l̞̗ ̼̠̞̲̗ͅa̩̻̫̬̰n͙͉̜̘̤͉g̣͚̗̗r̠̫̺̘ͅy̮̤̱͍̮ ḫ̪̲̩͔͎̯e̙r̯̹e͕̦̬̬ ͎̹̲̮.ͅ.̖̗͔̘ͅͅ.̫̺͔̻̩ ͓̯̰̖͖̣͚yo͖̺u̼̙̤̤̝̪̲'̲͈̪l͙̩̣̫ͅl̳̘̟͚͕͍ ̼͇c͓̭̫̜o̺͓͚̯̥̠̻m̗̘e̦ ̤t̞͇̩̤̹̤o͇̞͇ ͔͇f̞͚̖͇̤̜igu͓͇̮̺͕͍r̺̺̥̜̹e͍ ͚̳̥̰̱t̳͚͙h̲͓̣a͔͍̘̘̼͉͚t͇̖̠ ̞̟̳o͉͓̤̰̣͙̥u̜̗̙̗̞t̫̱̰̦̮̙ ̗̰̘s͇͕̞͖͚̰oo͔̣͖n̻̺ ͔̗̩̹̗͎ẹ͔n̥̞o͇̫u͍̩g̠̭̟̟͚͖̯h͓̮̥.̣̥̞"͖͕̖ The mangle's voice was gentle, as though trying to soothe his frazzled nerves. If the real killer was still out there, then they all needed to stay together.
Come hell or high water.
give me a reason you DON'T rp with me.
What do you think of my characterisation?
( thxmangle liked for a starter );;
“Look at you, huh. A sight f’sore eyes, sugar.”
His laughter is mocking, for the most part —- warbled and off, to match the rest of his vile personality, as rotten as the rest of what remains of him, lugged around like abandoned belongings in a suitcase. It dies down eventually in his throat, and his head shifts to look at her better —- the vertebrae in his neck cracking, jaw popping, the noise grotesque as lips part to speak again. ”Somebody shoulda sawed off the rest ‘uv y’limbs. I can do it NOW, I̹̖̞̥F̯͉ ͍̫͔̮̣͇̮Y̩̖̞͉̱̪̜̝O͚͈̠͙̘͖̰̣U̱̦’̺͙̦͈̭̗̬͈D̻͓̪̜̥͚̝̱ ͙̺̙̟̩̝̱̟͔L̙͕̭I̫̗ͅK̞̥E͈.”
So much for burning this hellhole to the ground.
The memories brought her no peace. Trying to get away brought her no peace. Moira know that the only peace she could know is knowledge that it was all g o n e.
Armed with matches, kerosene, and all black garb, she had broken into the abomination of a funhouse attraction; the vents were easy enough to traverse. This place was made exactly like the pizzeria. She knew them like the back of her good hand.
Silence was what kept her out of sight of the security guard.
Though it would not help her here, face with this ... c r e a t u r e.
Terrified eyes beheld the spectacle before her. It spoke like a human, but human it was not. She wasn't sure how it knew her ... but the voice was unnervingly familiar. The kerosene bottle clattered to the floor, spilling its contents before her feet as she quickly stepped back and away, gloved hand covering her own mouth to keep from s c r e a m i n g.
It smelled like death.
despite his H E A V Y casket, as she embraces him, adds to the weight on his cracked bones, he can’t help but feel H A P P I N E S S pierce the despair.
mangle C A L M S his hurting mind; he wants to hug her &&. tell her what happened, that he tried to save her from the storage room &&. those children’s souls from their bipedal tombs.
T H E Y didn’t give him the C H A N C E to explain himself. T H E Y only wanted revenge —— they didn’t care on whom they exacted it.
{ maybe it’s because he was B L A M E D for the murders } { he’ll N E V E R know the particulars }
this is his chance to clear things up &&. he’s taking it.
’ ’ ì͡ ̴̀̕di̡d̨͜͡n̡̕’̴t ̀-̵͡-̷-͢—-̷̷ ͢h̴ų͟͠r͡t͏̸͞ ́à͝ǹ̶y͢ ‘҉͝ o͏͟d̴̢̡y̢̧ ’ ‘
"̸̗͆Y̺̼͙̘̪̹͛͋ͭͩ͛ěͫ̃ͨ͗҉̣͈̫ ̏̎̕d̥̠̜͈̝͙̩̉̏̇ͤ̑ĭ̱̜̖̰̙̟͐͒̓̍͂̋d͈̲̭̥̈ͩ͐ͥ̽ͭ̿ň̗̫͒'̳̱͚̼̩̠͉̂͆͆ͨt̹̓͆́ͤ,̸̹̯͚̜̘͇͖̓ͦͩ̈́ ̧̫͔̥̂͑͊͐ͭ̔e͔͎ͧ͐y̺̟͚̰͙̣͋̌͆̎̾̐ ͓̣ͧ͑̉ͧ͛̐̾.̤̰͓̻̤͚ͥ͂͌̽͐͗̍.͕̙͌̐͒̽ͦ̔.̮̖̐̔ͥ̄ͭ̍̚?̖͇̰̭͇͍͗ͩ̇͗̈͋̃"̭̅ͅ
The static in her voice rings clear in the empty room, vibrating off the walls and filling the ears of all that could hear it. On the outside, it was unbearable. For anyone that couldn't understand, it drove them mad with anguish, pain. Here though, among friends, it was only background noise to her true voice.
The mangle tilts her head on his ripped up shoulder, both eyes glowing with the incandescent white of the damned. The good hand reaches and rests on top of his head, a sort of rage simmering beneath her touch as she thought on it.
"̶̽͋̄ͮͥͨ̂͗̒̋̔̒͑͌͐̋҉̜͔͈̘̲̳̭͉.̨̣̘̣̼̫̬̣̺̺̲̇͗̌ͫͮͪͤ̈́ͭ̒ͧ̊̚̚͝.̢̣̞̼ͤͬ̓̇̂.͖̣̣͇̙̩̦͔̜̩̦̭̓̈̊ͮ̓̈̎̆̾ͦͬ̆ͯ̓̌ͣ̑̚͢ͅŞ̔̿ͫͮ҉̶͖̖͚͍̦̮̣̠̪͔͓̞͎́ͅǫ̗͈̣̗̪̩̯̌͗ͬ́̀́͐ͥͩͯ͐̒̈́͡ͅ ̢̢̢̠̝̼͇͉̝͙̞̳͓͕̭̻̏̂͊̊̿̾̕͠t̴̛̳̥͎̼̩̳̝͉͖͙͚͇̱̞̣̓̽ͩ̉ͫ͆̀̕͘h̴̥͓̺̞̣̣̼͈̥͈̮̺͇̜͖̔̓̈̔̉͗͐̆̉̀ā̸̸͖̤͉͔ͨͩ̇ͭ̓̆ͫͪ̿̄̌̍ͬͪ̅͒ͯt̶̖̫͈̻͕͍̜̮̩̰̾̓̄͐ͤͤ̓̚͟͟͡͠ ̮͉͔͇̤̩̱̦͍͎̳͙͉̘̯̘ͭ̒ͭͫ̍̓ͣͣ͘e̦͚͉̠͙̯͎̼̻̰̰͌̔̊̈ͮͥͤ̇ͨ̈̑ͭ́̚xͯ͐̓̊ͧ́̀̐ͫ̈́҉͘͞͏̢̣̞̰̞pͪ́ͬ̿ͬͯ̍̀̉̚҉̛̜̠̳̥̱̳͝l̶̞̳̜̠͙̜̣̠̤̹͙̜ͧ̎͗̄ͩ̓́͡ǎ̡͎̩̗̠̼̠̯̼̼̼͓̻͓̥͚̐ͪ͐ͮ̓̒ͮͩ̆̄ͤ̂̔̌͗̀͘̕͜͞ͅi̶̧̙̗̺͔̦͕̙͙̣̼̫̰̜͈͓̳͐ͮ̓͗̌̍̃́͢ņ̸̣̼̥̯͔̯̘̬̫͍͐̓ͬ̄̌ͯͯ̋ͩ̿̓ͪͮ͟͡s̸̵͉̭͚͇̖̥̪̲̬̱͔͍̖̱̩̖̫̻ͮͫ̑̓͛̓͌̀̒̾̑̀͢͝ͅ ͓͇̼͎͇̹̘̼̣͗͐̅̑̊̑̽̈́̈́́ͤ̌̾̈̀͜͟͡͠ẃ̸̻̯̮̠̗̝̜̥̙̩̳͙͔͚́̑̍̇͒͊̈̾͋̎̈́̇͂͂̐͘h̶͎͈͙̪̤͙̙̞͉̥̯̞̣͔͊̌̓̒͋̐ͥ̋́͡yͣ̒ͮ̋̀̀̉̈́̿͛ͥͨͧ͘͏̗̞͎̩̫͖̀͢ͅ ̴̨͙̺͓̻̳͍̯̖̱̝̰͍ͧͩ͗͒̿̾̐̇̍ͬ͑ͦ̄̓̽ͤͫ̀̚w̦̼̻̦̟̠̰̼̩̭͎̻̣͕̑ͤͫͪ͌̇̃ͭ̽̍͂͐͐͂̇͑̚̚͘͝ͅͅe̸̵̡̝̰̙̘̠͔̖̘̝̺̯̗͚̙̙̰̞ͥ͊͑̃ͬ̊ͯ̈͟ͅ'ͫ̈́̂̈́̆ͪ̊͏̵̹̹̗̘͕͓̰̮̘̕͜͠r̨̹̫͔͚̖͖͚̺̭͕̲̲̳̫̙͋̃̃ͯͨ̂ͨ͊̓ͤ͌ͤ̍̍ͨ͒͑̎͜͞e̴̵̴̛̝͚͉̖̲̣̫̮͙̗̓̎ͭ͆͛ͣ̏̎̀ͥ͛́͟ͅ ̴̛̰̟̖̹̰̦̻̪̼̺̳͈̹̭͈ͭ̐ͤ͛̄̐ͧ̽̆͗͛̆ͅs͖͍͎̻͕̥̬̰̎͒ͧͮͥ͛ͪ͐͐͒̚̕͜ͅt̶͉͚̻̭̹̩̼͙͖͉͙͈̠̤̞̥̣͌̇́̑ͪͭ̑̊͋̾ͤͬͨ͑̉ͪ́̚͝͠į̡̘̝̗̣̯̹͈̙͇̣͆̄ͣ͛̌͐͑̄̂ͮͫ̿̆̇ͣ̏̍̍̂͜ļ̷̳̦̯̬̩̣͕̯̦̤͉͉͊̔̿̊̓͐ͭ̐̑̈͊͋ͣ͌͜͝lͤͪͬ̀̏͛̐́̏͒͏̷̤͎͖̪̦̤̫͓̜̺̙͝ ̸̛̰͉͓̮̬̣͉͉̯̫̞͍͇͈̼͕̘̊̀͐͗͒ͬ͆̀͛̌ͣ͑̓̐̐̚̚̕͝͞h̴̵͕̩͙̝̝̼͇̳̪͙̰͔̼̦̼̙̞̯̒̋̋͆ͩ̌ͤ͝ė̢̢͊͐ͧ̌ͨͩͥ́҉͙͚̯͔̝̺̭͉͔̠̣̝͙̹r̶̛̦̤͕͓͓̔͌ͫ͂̍ͩ͂͂́̄̈̑̍ͨ̚͜͞͡e̸̛͂ͫ̌ͭͩ̌ͥ̿͂̈́ͤ̊̾͐̾͊̎̓͠͏̣̹̪̳̗̯̞̯͎̜̤̰̥̟̪̠̜̲̻͠.̧̡̝̘̮̙̪̄ͦͮ̔͒ͣ͊̔͗ͩ̎͒ͪͣͮͮͣ͛ͨ́͟"̛͋͛̓̐̊̎͋̌͐ͯ͆̏͐ͪ͑ͩ̒ͯ͞͏͇̻͈̦̼̙͙͘͜
His death brought no salvation.
It had only dragged them further into h e l l.
The door was L O C K E D, figures, the management was P A R A N O I D, the M U R D E R S had caused the safe room concept to be scrapped and boarded up for G O O D, never to be used again, she didn’t know when, but once the one who wore P U R P L E from his head to toes came back to S L A U G H T E R once more, there was a S U I T in there, just for H I M.
❝I think the security guard might have the keys, or maybe they’re in the management office, yea, I think that’s where they are!❞
Figures. the manager didn’t want A N Y O N E to get into the room, so they kept the keys in their office, but S T R A N G E enough, the door was always U N L O C K E D.
"̷͔̝̯͕̰̄̚͝ͅS̈́͆̋ͬ͒͊ͦ̈́҉̷̲̝̺ȅ̴̯̥̬̝̦̀̔ͨ̊̃ͯͪc̵̗̮̫̞͚̮͈̬̏ͭ͐͡u̡̘͖͗ͫ̓͐́̌̔̀ȑ̵͋̌̆ͧ҉̲̯̘͇̘̝͢i̛̭̝͋̇͡͠ẗ̶̶͉̜́͊͌y̙̳̞̯̬̙͇̜̾ͦ̐͐̑̾̏͡ ̴̹͖͇̲̤̟̟̩͂̾̓͋͋ͣ͞.̉̽̂͏͎̠͉̼̞̞̝.̸̺̥͎͂̃͋̀̀.͙͔̦̘̬͓̈́̿̄͟͠"̳̠̝̙̟̺̎̑ͤ̇̑̀́
In a flash, the menagerie of metal parts skittered its way up the wall, longer limbs reaching and grabbing into the holes in the ceiling to make its way until she was hanging upside down over the child.
Extending her head, she allowed the little ghost the option of hitching a ride of her twisted exoskeleton body, eye spinning to lock into her face.
"̴̯͕̏̎̉̉̇͗̈ͅͅC̷̮̘͕͈ͤ̐͋́͊̂̉͟o̧͕͇͚͖̿ͫͧͭm̪̮͇͈̞̾̌͆̈ͭ͛͟ͅę̶̯̟̲͇̜̈̌ͦ͛͊.̴̬̰͈̅ͣ̇̈́ͮ̅̃ͅ.̘̝̺̗͈̗̯̙̓ͩ̑ͩ̎̍͊̓̀.̛̰͍̱̙̱̭̗̩̗ͮ̅̑̑̕!̱̪ͩ̅͂ͦ͜"̼̯̭̰̈ͬ͂̄̃͒̓̕͞
350+ FOLLOWERS
breakdances gently
(( the poll was for the shittiest valentines ever starring your favorite yiff baits, mangle absolutely obliterated foxy grandpa in the beginning so here’s the queen now
hope u have a good heart day fuckboys. ))
your fave is problematic: mangle
nah just kidding mangle is perfect
Repeat after me:
Don’t reblog a roleplay unless you’re part of it
Don’t reblog a roleplay unless you’re part of it
Don’t reblog a roleplay unless you’re part of it
Don’t reblog a roleplay unless you’re part of it
Do n ’ t r e blog a rol ep lay un le s s y ou’r e pa rt of i t
DONT REBLOG A RP UNLESS YOURE PART OF IT
DONT
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UNLESS
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DONT