Throwing this to everyone like I'm throwing mildly bread to the birds.
I tried to recreate an older drawing but I genuinely do not know wtf I was doing with the background, or color schemes, or like, anything.
Killdroid looks like he's midway through busting a nut while climbing Badware like a ladder for some reason? Badware is just long legged mcgee over there with his fucking music-man spiderlegs.
Mb for the angry rant. I'm really tired and I'm redoing it from scratch. Have my scraps, feast away my vultures.
A little thang i've been working on in my spare time. Might do more for the other SCPs as well
This is the first time I've done a room drawing like this
It's a funny meme in the WoF community that HiveWings are incestuous abominations having all descended from a single dragon (Clearsight). But honestly I think a lot of the weirdness revolving around that idea is missing a fundamental piece of the way WoF genetics work.
It's relatively well known that when two dragon tribes hybridize, their offspring will primarily take after their mothers. Every. Single. Time.
At most, there may be somewhat-even mixes of both parents, but the mother's tribe is still largely apparent. We see this with Whiteout, Darkstalker, Typhoon, and Sunny.
Whiteout and Darkstalker appear primarily NightWing, like their mother Foeslayer (although Whiteout has a little more IceWing than Darkstalker).
Sunny is mostly SandWing in appearance like her mother Thorn; enough that most regard Sunny as a regular SandWing that may just have a rare genetic anomaly.
Typhoon confirms his mother as a SeaWing in his dialogue, when he mentions that his father is ill by the animus IceWing plague that Darkstalker caused.
What does this mean for HiveWings?
While it does still sound exhausting to have so many relatives, it's very plausible for her to have caused a branching new tribe with her genetics, WITHOUT inbreeding being involved in that process.
Because Clearsight is female, the VAST majority of her dragonets with BeetleWings would appear.... mostly NightWing! Mostly black scales!
Somewhat like this, if you assume this is relatively canon:
And, any of her daughters who decided to have dragonets themselves, would have ALSO had dragonets with primarily black scales, no matter WHO they married to.
The black scales would have easily passed along hundreds (if not thousands) of dragons, without a single instance of genetically problematic inbreeding, so long as the direct descendants of Clearsight were female and had black scales.
Regardless, no matter how many children Clearsight had, her daughters, granddaughters, great granddaughters and so on, would pass down her black scales to future generations; all of their Night/Beetle offspring would have taken after the mothers that appeared more NightWing-like, until eventually the form of HiveWings became most familiar because of the consistent mixing of the NightWing & BeetleWing physical traits.
Clearsight may well have only needed to EVER have 6 of her own dragonets total, for there to be a tribe split based on her genetics; depending on whether or not all of her dragonets chose to have families of their own (which we assume they all did). But, it is canon that Clearsight remarried several times, so we can assume she had more than 6; albeit probably not as many as your mind wanders into thinking. No slutshaming!!!! /j
Assuming she had 4 daughters and 2 sons, and each of her children had 3 dragonets of their own (predominantly female from her daughters and predominantly male from her sons), that would be 12 NightWing-dominant hybrids and 6 BeetleWing-dominant hybrids to kickstart the tribe splitting. It's perfectly plausible with the way canon genetics work.
What about SilkWings?
BeetleWings were a spread-out tribe, not existing purely in one location for their kingdom. So, while it's fun to theorize about SilkWings also being descendants of Clearsight, it's improbable at best (and disprovable at worst) that they're related in any way.
It's theorized (and probably accurate) that BeetleWings had already been in the process of diverging into SilkWings, and Clearsight's arrival sped up that process significantly by reducing the population of non-diverging BeetleWings.
Incest had to happen at some point, didn't it?
I'm going to tentatively say, yes. But not in the way you're thinking.
At some point, after the BeetleWings had been bred out of existence and replaced by HiveWings and SilkWings, there HAS to be interbreeding of HiveWings at some point. And if ALL HiveWings are descended from Clearsight, that would mean that modern HiveWings are technically inbreeding by continuing to have eggs with other HiveWings, instead of more BeetleWings.
However, this is not as problematic as you'd think. (Stay with me here, this isn't proship territory. I promise.)
If we're looking at animals as a prospect, you'll notice that millions of extant species in REAL life are actually the result of similar conditions. Direct descendants of ancestors that they inherited their primary abilities and traits from, that have ultimately somewhat inbred.
You may be shocked (and even grossed out) to hear that we're actually all somewhat related, especially to those in our own countries. However, the reason incest between close relatives is considered immoral to people (and is illegal in many places, thankfully) is because of genetic anomaly.
There is always risk to pass down genetic anomalies, I happen to have one myself! (A congenital defect of the heart that gives me two aortic valve flaps instead of three. This is a standard defect though and I promise I'm not an incest baby.)
But the issue with inbreeding is just that it drastically increases the chances of such anomalies happening, the more closely related to an individual you are.
To put it more science-y, inbreeding only increases the chances of consequential or fatal anomalies if the offspring of two individuals contain alleles at the gene site that are identical from descent. In other words, there's a single ancestor shared from both the maternal and paternal sides. This becomes negligible when it's no longer probable to pass identical alleles from both sides; i.e, hitting about 6th degree (roughly second cousins once removed).
In other words, should someone interbreed with their second cousin-once removed, the chances of there being genetic anomalies or consequences are so low, that it's about as likely as if you had a child with any other person in the general population of your area. Your average shared DNA with that 2nd cousin-twice removed would be ~1.5%, which is actually lower than the default chance of any other average birth defect happening to the child of an unrelated couple (~3-4%).
Genetic counsellors themselves state that they completely stop worrying about the potential for inbreeding-related fetal anomalies (AND moral code) once the relativity is 4th degree or further, because there is simply such a low chance of any defects, and it would be substantially different from marrying & reproducing with your siblings, parents, grandparents, and other direct relatives.
Simply put, incestuous pairings are not black & white when it comes to more distant relation. Although direct relative pairings are inherently risky and therefore morally & ethically reprehensible by any means.
Dragons in Wings of Fire live to a maximum of about 130 years, and 2000 years had passed since Clearsight's arrival to Pantala. That's about 13 generations of dragons, give or take a few. We know based on the story told by Lady Scarab that a close relative of hers that she knew personally actually named the HiveWing tribe - implying that BeetleWings' extinction was actually relatively recent; within the last 200-400 years. Meaning that the genetic diversity of modern HiveWings is high enough that it would be incredibly unlikely for any random pair of HiveWings to pass down identical alleles to their child and cause significant issues.
So while, definition-wise, it is TECHNICALLY inbreeding, it is not a morally questionable issue because there are very few physically consequential results from their pairings; there have simply been FAR too many unrelated BeetleWings in their family trees for so long, that the VAST majority of HiveWings are as closely related to one another as the average city population in the United States.
Additionally, reptiles are not affected by incest the same way mammals are. The majority of unique pet trade reptile color morphs is a result of inbreeding for those colors; it's quite rare for them to have consequential anomalies as a result of such inbreeding as long as they aren't direct relatives only exclusively inbreeding with each other. Also these are magical fantasy dragons, so like. Shrug. I can't imagine incredibly distant relative consanguinity would affect them as badly as anything that's ever happened to British royalty.
(Also you didn't hear this from me, but MudWings are probably significantly more worrisome because of their monthly random breeding nights and no real semblance of family trees. I'd worry about them before worrying about tons of generations of hybrids with the genetic diversity of New York.)
"Kiss kiss kiss mwah mwah mwah" You snickered to yourself as you rocked your avatar back and forth in place, making it smooch the "new" Slasher NPC in the lobby.
This new update was strange, everything was the same, except for this addition. You tried to search up anything about this surprise update, but surprisingly, you found nothing. Only a jumping Jason on your screen after you returned to your tabbed out Roblox window. He immediately stopped moving when he saw your avatar turn to face him.
It seems like you have a pet Jason now. And like a dog, he was loyal to his owner.
Jason's existence in Forsaken was always funny to you.
Prior to the rewrite, he had the least going on, lore wise. Sure, he hung out with Jeff the Killer and Slenderman, but that was it.
It was a bit ridiculous seeing Jason Voorhees in a Roblox DBD clone before the real game itself. Not even as a skin, but as an actual character among all the Robloxian icons.
When "he" was Voorhees, he stuck out like a sore thumb. He made sense thematically, a representative of one of Roblox's most iconic games from its classic era, but he never fit in as a character among the others.
Then came the Slasher rework update.
When the devs posted his redesign online, you had to do a walk around your room. Earning the confused look from your roommate and a rush of joy down your spine at how adorable he looked.
Where the devs dug deep into his code and altered his appearance and backstory, rewiring him to be someone different, or as legally distinct as possible. Swapping his simple look for the raggedy hood and new mask. It was supposed to be an easy job, changing his model and calling it a day, but somehow, somewhere in his code, the devs messed up.
Not only had the game crashed, but for the first time, Jason felt like something was off.
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Pain.
That was all jasonbacon1980 knew.
When Paula first saw the little pill baby, she knew he was destined to face a life of hardship. He was born with an enlarged head and a multitude of health issues as a result of his hydrocephalus.
He was different.
Which was an unspoken sin in the Bacon Empire, but Jason was hers, and that was all that mattered. Leaning into the clear bassinet, making sure not to bump into his breathing device, she pressed a kiss to his forehead.
She knew he'd make it, she could feel it when his tiny hands gripped her fingers. Her strong little soldier.
As he got older, life got tougher. Even after draining the excess liquid from his head with a surgery that made his mama work more shifts than he'd like. Leaving him alone .
The chronic headaches that gnawed at him daily, the constant hospital visits, the bullying. He never caught a break, nor did his poor mother. With the medical bills and her constant worry for the safety and well being for her son, he knew he had to be strong.
Always be strong.
Even as his classmates would shove him in the halls, only muttering a half-assed apology when a teacher was nearby. The name calling from his peers that'd chip away at his already low. Whispers in the halls about his awkward gait, his cleft lip, his tired uneven eyes. Or even worse, the way others would see right through him. Ignoring him
He didn't need them.
It was a mantra that echoed in his head.
Even as he watched kids his age play together at the park suddenly grow silent when he'd pass by.
Or as he grew older and saw how his peers would fall in love. People who although were externally beautiful, were cruel to "ugly monsters" like him.
Maybe that's why he loved slasher films so much. Seeing prideful horn dogs getting murdered on screen felt cathartic, especially when done by masked men he felt a strange kinship with.
Jason felt pathetic, he'd shovel popcorn in his mouth, watching marathons of horror flicks where degenerates would get their competence. He'd imagine those who wronged him in their place. Like the girl who asked him out as a joke was the bimbo who had her head smashed into a television set. Or the jock who gave him a black eye had his jaw pried off by his bare hands.
But that was fantasy. In reality, he was fine. Totally fine.
His mama said he was a handsome man, but he never felt like it. He saw how others looked at him. Disgust. pity. Discomfort. It wasn't his fault that he looked like this, and if it was...
So what?
His looks shouldn't dictate how others treated him. His words and actions should. But... but god damn it, it was hard.
What was there to say? Sorry for looking like this? Sorry for being alive? For being different?
There was no point to speak, there was nothing to say.
Even when he was deployed as a young man his love of horror never stopped. He got caught one night watching a horror flick when he was supposed to be sleeping and got the nickname Slasher.
And it stuck.
Like the knife deeply embedded into his shoulder connecting him and the last semblance of his mother until the end of time. Even if he knew deep down, it wasn't her. But a cheap imitation.
All that time stuck in the facility. His body and mind rotting away as they'd test on him as if he were an animal. Forcing a mask on his face like a muzzle on a dog. He was content to die there, until one day he heard her voice.
With the help of the Necrobloxicon, it wasn't long until he escaped with Jeff and the Operator after weeks of planning.
Climbing up the truss wall from the bowels of Area 51 to freedom. Jason stared at the sky, a beautiful blue, but as he climbed higher and higher to the surface, the sky began to shift to a bright purple.
Before settling into a bloody red that pulsated like a beating heart.
Jason reached for the sky, and it reached back, a hand as dark as the night sky flickered into existence. As the hand made contact with his, Jason suddenly felt a violent shock of pain shoot through his body, a sensation he couldn't ignore. The chunk of zeroes and ones around the mysterious hand burned brighter as it clamped around his calloused hand.
Suddenly, it yanked Jason toward itself, as he grew closer, his vision flashed to black.
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Laying on your dorm bed you and your roommate were playing Roblox together one late Friday night.
"Get the HELL away from my brainrot!" Ray yelled at his phone, his avatar equipping its weapon to smack away a screaming child.
"Voice chat?" You laughed as Ray's avatar was flung across the screen, "You finally succumbed to Roblox's data-mining attempts?"
Ray paused, pursing his brown lips, "Well... you don't HAVE to give them your info," Ray trailed off.
"... What?"
"Some nerd in my coding class is working on her own voice chat add-on. She wanted me to test it out"
"... Isn't that bannable and maybe illegal?"
"Probably. But hey, watch this," Ray proceeded to approach another player, the same one who tried to steal from him earlier. Clicking the mic icon in the corner, he proudly spoke into the mic, "Hey, ugly. Fuck you."
"Ray, you're gonna get a warning," You scoffed as he shoved his phone in your face. But there was nothing. Even after a few seconds.
"So? Roblox has a shitty moderation system," You scoffed. It was probably a fluke, you've seen worse slip by the moderators.
"Noob. Nooob," Ray spoke into the mic, "Ugly fatass noob."
Still no warning.
Just some kid attempting to swear back at him, only to have their mic suddenly silenced and have a warning issued out to them.
"... What's her insta?" You asked, pulling out your phone.
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Jason tore his eyes open, finally freeing himself from the mind-numbing darkness. His head was killing him, it always was, but this felt different.
He stood on a plain baseplate under a familiar red sky, nothing but him and what looked to be a noob across the stud field.
With fear in their dark eyes, they slowly approached Slasher.
"H-hello? H-h-hi!" They stammered, raising their hand to block out the red glare of the skybox. It was strange, there was no sun, but it burned as if there one. Jogging up to the hulking man, the noob stood a measly foot away.
"T-t-thank Telamon you're here," They huffed, their blonde hair flowing in the hot air, "I haven't t-talked to anyone for what it feels like... hours? I-I don't know."
They pointed to the sky, projected in the endless horizon was a set of unwavering numbers in bright pure white.
1:30
"A-a-a-at first, I thought it was the time," They began, staring at the sky, "But it's been l-l-like that for ages."
"They look weak. A frail little thing," A familiar voice whispered into his ear, "Their blood must be sweet. Go on, dear, quench mama's thirst."
Slasher stared at them, as if waiting for something.
"I-I'm Noob," They stuck their hand out, "W-what's your name?"
The voice continued crooning from the Necrobloxicon, "Why tell, when you can show them, Slasher?"
Within moments he equipped his machete and raised his weapon to the sky.
Noob's kind yet hesitant gaze flashed into a look of terror. Their eyes refused to pull away from the weapon. But from the corner of their eye, they could see the gap between Jason and his blade.
The sky changed.
1:29
It was a count down. But before Noob could even decipher what it meant, Jason's machete slashed into their chest. Tearing through their blue hoodie and straight to their guts, the blood mixed with their hoodie made an ugly, unsettling purple.
Staggering back, Noob wordlessly tore into their ghostburger, and within seconds they disappeared.
That was alright. Mama's meal would be served soon enough and the Necrobloxicon will let her live another day.
The hunt was on.
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This week had been a blast.
Ray was right. Voice chat was fun, it felt more freeing to actually talk to other people than read their messages on screen. Plus, it was really funny watching a kid roast and read Ray to filth while he seethed beside you in real life.
"Man, fuck this, I'm hoping on Forsaken," Ray muttered, carelessly tossing his phone onto your bed before bellyflopping after his device.
"That's my bed," You called out, not bothering to face him as you hunched over your desk.
"That's why I'm on it," He groaned, burying his face in your pillow, "Yours is comfier."
"The university issued us the same bed, dumbass," You tossed an empty energy drink can at him.
"Whatever. You can kick me off later," He yawned, shutting his almond eyes, "Aren't you joining?"
"Oh yeah. They're changing his model," Your eyes light up, "He's actually really cute now. Like... he reminds me of an owl."
"Who?" He asked.
"Jason-- Err I mean Slasher," You corrected yourself as you clicked on the play button.
"Who?" A stupid smile formed on his face
Lifting your head from your horrible shrimp posture, you stared at him with a look you've given him nearly every day.
"Aw..." He pouted, that familiar obnoxious smile on his lips, "I thought you love owls?"
"Yeah. Ones that aren't annoying or chopped."
"Chopped?" He scoffed, "YOU'RE DICED!"
"I--" You began, but as Forsaken finally loaded in, you noticed the countdown to the next game reach zero. Sending you straight into another round, "Shut the hell up."
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It's been months since Slasher first appeared here.
Or maybe even days.
Hours?
He had no idea, nor did he care. It was all a violent mess of memories to add to the pile. Even if his mind gnawed at him. Not the usual pain he ignored, but as if he was forgetting something.
This buzzing in his head.
"Baby, what's wrong?" The Necrobloxicon cooed, its voice, "The hunt has begun... Mama is so hungry."
Bowing his head, he clutched onto his machete, his gaze focused on the soil beneath his feet. Something felt different today. He could feel it ringing inside his head. He just had to pick it up.
"Now, son..." The voice croaked in a tone he's heard so many times before, "What did I tell you about posture?"
Like a dog, he obeyed.
Straightening his spine, he sighed before rolling his neck. It was another night in this purgatory, and mama was hungry. Raising his clenched fist, he swiped his hand over his mask's left eye socket. Casting a heavenly glow on a nearby lone survivor hunched over a generator.
Perfect.
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You were in the zone. Sliding the wires in place with perfection. With grace and ease, your fingers connected the dots. Just as you finished the gen, you heard it.
The murmurings of a strangely loud heartbeat, not of your own, then came the violins.
He was here.
In all his Robloxian 2.0 glory. Sure, he was puppeted by your lameass roommate, but you could ignore that.
"He's so handsome," You muttered to yourself, positioning your perspective to face the killer, "Wait. Dude. Dude, stay still."
Ray rolled his eyes and lifted his fingers from the screen, "... I don't like the sound of this."
You approached Slasher, spinning around him to check him out, "Hello... beautiful.. heh..." Inching towards his back, you were about to give him backshots before Ray spun around to hit you.
"This is Roblox" Ray cringed as he spammed the gashing wound button at you, "PERVERT."
But unluckily for Ray, you dodged just in time, shift locking Noob and swerving to the right behind the dirt wall near the generator. It was a little barrier between you and the man of your dreams. Taking the opportunity, you had your character suddenly chug a Bloxy Cola.
"COME BACK HERE," Ray whined, "Please, Y/N... I NEED this."
"Miss me miss me... now you gotta kiss me hehe," You chuckled, your tone playful as you made Noob sprint away through the cemetery, "On the mouth... with tongue..."
"HEY GET BACK HERE!" Ray raged, "This isn't fair! My phone is lagging! It won't let me move."
"Skill issue," You kicked your feet.
"Says the one with no partner. You thirst over pixels, weirdo."
"I don't care about that. Jason is sweet. I like him," You shrugged, having Noob brush past him after a missed swing, "Later, beautiful."
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Slasher dragged his feet through the autumn forest. From the dirt trail at the side of the manor, he could spot a noob fiddling with the generator. Gnawing on their blue hoodie string, their hands glide across the panel to plug in the final wire.
Just as he took a step towards the blonde, the blonde jitterbug shot up from their spot. The usual look of fear on their face. Narrowed eyes with those lips pressed into an unpleasant frown. Slasher was used to this look. Even before he went by the moniker.
As Jason, he was seen as inrobloxian, as if scum for existing. But as Slasher, he'll give them a reason.
"He's so handsome."
... Him?
For once, he tore his eyes away from the prey. Just for a brief moment. His gaze quickly scanned the perimeter.
There was no one else around, just him and the weak little noob in the cool autumn night.
This had to be a trick. Perhaps The Spectre had added a new survivor, one that would mess with his mind. How fun.
The necrobloxicon was here as well, but it didn't sound like... that. A voice that sounded like it came from every where, yet nowhere at one. But found itself underneath his rotting skin, inching its way through his veins and to his beating heart.
"Wait. Dude. Dude, stay still."
And he did.
Clutching tightly onto his machete, he
"What are you doing?" The book hissed, "Move."
This was a first.
Noob awkwardly took a step towards the killer. Perhaps they were feeling a little cocky since the rest of the survivors were probably watching from afar. Or maybe Noob had a death wish.
But rarely was there a moment where the killer stood still like this.
Noob circling Slasher was a funny sight, as if he was the prey and they were the predator. A big guy like him. Yeah. Right.
"Hello, beautiful... heh..."
There, that voice.
His blood boiled. He's heard that so many times before in his youth. Compliments that were actually jokes. The "humor" was that he... wasn't.
Wasn't beautiful.
"Dear?"
Wasn't lovable.
"Slasher?"
Wasn't worthy.
"Son!"
He shook his head. Forget it. He had a job to do. He'll decipher the Spectre's tricks later. For now, he'll focus on the task at hand.
The gentle humming of the generator ate up the awkward silence between the two.
It wasn't until Noob got a little close for comfort that he began to move. As if his body was like a spring. All that tension built up in his brief frozen state burst forward into a desperate swing of his chainsaw at the blonde.
"I-I-I'm sorry! I-I don't know why I did that!" Noob cried as they narrowly avoided his revved up chainsaw. The power saw flew straight into the wall, embedding itself into the dirt.
Clutching the dirt wall as Noob fished their hand into their inventory for a cola. They knew it was a risky move, but something deep inside told them they could weasel their way out of this situation.
Yanking the tab with such urgency that one would think they were handling a grenade, they proceeded to chug the bubbly energy drink with desperate swallows.
"Miss me! Miss me!"
Damn it! That stupid voice distracted him, not the one of his mother, but the other one. The trick of The Spectre! And now the prey had distanced itself. Just his luck.
"Now you gotta kiss me hehe..." the voice continued with an eager tilt to their tone, "on the mouth... with tongue."
Slasher stood still.
What?
His blood was burning as it had done earlier, but now it had rushed to his face. For a brief moment, he was genuinely stunned. Was this a new sentinel move? Psychic damage?
"What are you doing? GET THEM!" The Necrobloxicon screeched into his ear.
Grasping onto the wall, he had finally pulled himself out of his daze. Slasher peered from the other side of the wall. Before he could even take a step, Noob chucked the empty Bloxy Cola can square in his face.
"I don't care about that. Jason is sweet. I like him," The voice mused, their tone surprisingly soft. As if they knew him. Sending a strange feeling to bloom within his chest.
Him? Sweet? You... whoever you are... likes him?
Without even thinking, he swung his machete at the noob, who wordlessly scampered away.
The voice spoke again, "Later, beautiful."
Why later? Why not now?
For the entire round he targeted you, even as the Necrobloxicon yelled at him to target someone else to satiate its hunger, but for once, he didn't listen.
All 3 minutes and 30 seconds he ran after Noob.
Yet the noob evaded every swing and that voice kept talking. Rambling into his ear, like a fly buzzing around his head. And like most normal people, he wanted to swat the little pest.
He wondered... if he... killed the noob, would you stop talking?
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It was the last twenty seconds of the round.
"Y/N... please... please let me kill you!" Ray pleaded.
"No. I wanna spend more time with Slasher..." You whined, clicking the slateskin key before he could even reach you.
"You're SICK and TWISTED," Ray yelled at you as Slasher swung his chainsaw at Noob again. But you dodged.
"Hey buddy, watch this," You snickered, slipping behind the killer, slateskin still in effect as you gave him so many backshots it killed you.
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Noob yelped as they kept repeatedly bumping into Slasher. They've seen this before in other rounds with other survivors. During downtime they and their fellow survivors theorized it was some weird Spectre trickery meant to further psychologically torment them. To remind them they were all toys in his twisted dollhouse, dolls to be flung around to engage in degrading acts, only to--
Slasher watched as Noob suddenly collapsed without warning.
"More time! Let's go--"
He raised his hand, as if to silence the book. He had to see something.
Nothing.
He nudged their torso with his foot.
Nothing.
He kicked them, only to cause Noob's corpse to turn over, exposing their neck.
Nothing.
Raising his boot, he stomped on their neck over and over again. A deafening crunch echoed through out the map, the sounds of their neck being trampled to mush followed suit.
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"Is this a glitch?" Ray asked, shoving his phone in your face. Even though you died unrelated to Slasher, somehow you triggered a kill animation.
"What kill animation is that?" You asked, as Slasher stomped on Noob way more than necessary. It was brutal, even if to you it looked like blocks slamming into each other.
"Kinda dreamy," You swooned.
"... We gotta get you a partner, dude," Ray shook his head.
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Round after round, after round, he found himself tormented by you.
Tormented by those sweet exclamations of adoration and praise. Declarations of want and desperate need.
And some other statements he'd rather not repeat, but was flattered none-the-less.
It was strange, based on your... riveting dialogue, you weren't talking to him, but rather ABOUT him. But to someone named... Ray. But he could care less about Ray. What gnawed at his mind, was a more pressing matter.
Who are you exactly?
What are you?
Where were you?
You seem to follow around Noob, like how the Necrobloxicon did to him, but the blonde didn't acknowledge your... commentary. Perhaps they were too focused on surviving, but there were somethings that even made Slasher stop in place a few times.
As another round began, his vision grew blurry and suddenly, he passed out.
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"Damn it!" You groaned, your screen froze. No matter how much you spammed your keys, you couldn't move. Then came the connection loss pop-up.
"Me too," Ray sighed, sitting up, "This update sucks ass. It can barely run without freaking out on me."
"Whatever, we'll play later," You stood up, taking a good stretch as you rolled your neck. You really gotta improve your posture... You then turned to Ray, who was hugging one of your pillows.
"Get the hell off my bed," You teasingly ordered him before chucking a pillow at him.
"Oh, by the way..." Ray smiled, letting you pummel him, "your mic was on."
"AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME???" You panicked, "Oh my god. That was so fucking embarrassing."
"I thought you knew," he snickered.
"If I did... I would've been more..." You trailed off, thinking about the semi-jokes you told. Some words were way too tender to be considered funny.
"Tame?" He tilted his head, his braids followed suit.
"Dude. Don't say that," You groaned, rubbing your temple.
"Don't worry, dumbass," He finally hoped off your bed, he nudged your shoulder as he casually walked to his side of the dorm. His tone was comforting for once, "We were the only ones with voice chat, I checked the server list."
You nodded, it was the principle of the matter, but what's done is done.
It's not like anyone actually heard you.
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Coding was a bitch. The developers knew that more than anyone. It was like Jenga, just one wrong move and it all comes crumbling down. Just forgetting to implement a line or even misspelling a command could destroy a game. Especially one so flimsy like Forsaken.
Local SlashlerModelAnchored=True.OnlyIfInBetweenRound
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The next day after class, you hoped onto Forsaken. Ray was out at his job, leaving you all alone to be a drain on society. Hoping onto Forsaken, you joined right after a round began.
Wandering around the lobby, you spoke into your mic, "Hello???? Anyone here?"
Nothing.
Whatever.
Tapping onto the spectate option, you proceeded to watch a round where Noli was wiping the floor with the lobby.
When you watched as the Noli began to charge at the 1337, you yelled at the screen, "No! HE'S BAITING YOU! RUN!"
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Slasher's eyes shot open. As he slowly regained his vision, he was met by a confusing sight.
Funny.
An inverse of where it all began.
The same green grassy baseplate he first spawned on was now above his head. The endless sky now below his feet, the only thing missing was its original blood red and timer.
That wasn't the only difference. Now there were now... statues of the survivors he once chased, alongside his fellow killers surrounding him. All of them stood in various rows and columns, all posed with their arms out and posture straight.
He raised hand to poke the Necrobloxicon, in an attempt to wake it. But it said nothing.
"Hello??? Anyone here?"
That voice.
You.
For once it sounded distant. Not the once omnipotent force that'd sent shivers down his spine. But... above. Like an angel.
His legs felt strangely stiff, as if he hadn't moved for days. Limping towards the spot he thought he heard you, passing by the row of Robloxians he's slaughtered countless times.
"No! HE'S BAITING YOU! RUN!"
There.
Swiping his right hand over his eye, he saw your silhouette glow through the thin barrier separating you.
There you were.
The red glow emitting from his eye searched the "ceiling" which was nothing but flat green studs. He couldn't reach the baseplate to dig through, it was too high up, even if he climbed onto Sixer's back.
Sighing, he swung his machete at the air, thrusting him a few studs forward as he wallowed in frustration. But then he turned to the left and saw his way out of here.
He didn't have to dig his way through. There was a much easier way of getting to and from place to place.
Teleportation.
And that pathetic hacker would help him. He'd make sure of it.
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Your avatar idled as you swiped through the shop. Spectating had gotten boring when it's mostly 1337s neglecting their teammates.
As you clicked on cute outfits to make Noob wear, you noticed a player suddenly approach you. Causing you to leave the menu and turn towards him.
"Hello," You waved at the Slasher cosplayer, "I like your Jason outfit. He's so cool."
He stared at you.
"Can you hear me?" You asked.
He jumped. You took that as a yes.
"Cool."
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007n7 awoke with a start. Before he could get a hold of his surroundings, he was violently shaken to the point his spider almost fell off his burger.
"P-p-please don't hurt me!" He cried, stumbling backwards. The brunet almost tripped on air, directly onto 1337. Luckily for n7, Slasher grabbed the dweeb by the arm and yanked him up straight. But during his fall, he noticed the frozen bodies of his allies and foes.
"What is this place?" 007n7 shook. Being in this hellscape meant that most things shouldn't shake him, but, there was something eerie about this... place specifically.
These Robloxians, these people he's known for a short time, he just saw them... alive and fighting for their lives against-- Wait.
The killers.
If they were frozen, that meant...
"Please. Let me see my son," n7 pleaded, his eyes wild with desperation, as he swerved his eyes around the void for those familiar red horns in the crowd of statues.
Slasher's grip tightened around his wrist as he shook his head. He pointed to himself, then to the baseplate above with urgency.
"Fine. I'll bring you up there," n7 nodded, he grit his teeth as he summoned his gui, "But I'm getting my son after."
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No matter where you went in the lobby, Slasher followed wordlessly. Up the stairs. In the dining area. By the campfire. Even on top of the cabin itself. Finally you made your way to the dock.
"Can you chat?" You asked him after what felt like an hour of silence when it was barely a few minutes.
He stood still for a moment.
Suddenly, you were prompted by a grey NPC dialogue textbox splashed onto your screen with a still of Slasher to the left. He looked so cute.
It read, "... A bit."
"NO FUCKING WAY??!" You yelled, causing Slasher to jump.
"Voice that bad?" His text shook slightly, as if he struggled to speak.
"N-no?," You stammered, "I'm just shocked you can hear me and you're an NPC."
He shook his avatar, as if to signify he was shaking his head.
"What? You're not an NPC?"
He jumped in agreement.
Man. This update patch is crazy. The devs had to have implemented AI or something.
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"What is he planning?" 007n7 narrowed his eyes as he watched Slasher shyly approach a person he's never seen before. He meant to teleport to Coolkidd, but he had to wait for his cooldown to hit zero, then after it did that, he felt strangely compelled to stay.
Rubbing his temple, he leaning against a tree hidden behind a bunch of shrubbery.
Something was off.
That area he was stuck in... He's only seen places like that in video games. Models of characters t-posing under the map as to make the game run easier by pre-loading assets.
He's done it so many times before during his college days before adopting Coolkidd and even taught the kid how to hack a game to see how its insides worked.
Oh, Coolkidd.
007n7 shook at the thought of bringing his son up here. To destroy his perception of reality. Could Kidd even handle it?
He couldn't wake up his son when he was in such a state. He had to be real. He felt real. He remembered so much. His glory days. His time in rehab. The first time he ever held Coolkidd. That had to be real. It needed to be.
He wasn't equipped for this.
Finally biting the bullet, 007n7's GUI flickered into existence.
Maybe Builderman would know what to do.
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a/n:
Nobody asked for this. But me. I genuinely needed a refresher when writing AYS since I got into a mindnumbing writer's block. I decided to do so via awesome treat in between uploads.
Jason is my favorite 40-something-year-old man ever.
We need more Slasher/Jason lovers. I wanted to write this as respectfully as possible towards those with hydrocephalus (not making light of his symptoms nor woobifying him).
I might do a part two at some point.
The coding I wrote is BULLSHIT btw idk how lua works😭
baratheonpilled
janainaart
jacobvanloon
germansingergirl
