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offer me my deathless death

Summary:

Q WROTE THIS NOT ME GUYS THATS WHY ITS SO ICNREDIBLE AND GIID THE LANGAUGE IS MWAH THE WORDS HAGJSDGH DSJKGHKJDSGHKDJGKGJSDBKJGHDSK JHSGK JHGDBGJKSD funky writing its so good waaa wil-centric i was SCREAMING

Notes:

its so good,,.,.,.mmm good food,..,.,.,., wil be the mental illness fr,.,.,.sculk church is so creepy.,,..,.,TITLE FROM TAKE ME TO CHURHC

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Wil hated being at the forefront of attention, preferring to slink, always out of sight, always out of mind. Life was far more peaceful that way, running from place to place, never leaving behind too much of a trace. KarlStan was different though, the glittering lives of all the occupants drawing him in, much akin to how an angler fish draws in it’s prey. Wil was fascinated by it all, intrigued by how so many different people seemed to cooperate so well. Well, except for the church. 

 

The church was only, for all its tarnished reputation, just a simple, squat wooden structure. It’s unassuming frame was the building’s greatest strength, however, the plain, oak plank exterior, paying no conceivable homage to the goings on the basement. The leaders of the Church, Schlatt and Q, were far from claiming the normalcy of marriage and providing safety through the arms of the church themselves. Wil would say that he had what would be considered a ‘psycho-competitive’ relationship with the latter lighter up of the church. Q would claim that Wil is a twisted, sadistic psychopath who wishes nothing but pain and suffering on others. 

 

Wil’s obsession with Q and by relation the church led him to this moment, brisk August air biting through his deep fuschia trenchcoat and into his skin, he stands in the greatly unimpressive cathedral. Rows of pews sit stacked precariously at the forefront of the room. A podium sits behind them, dark tendrils sneak up and around the base, pulsating in an unfamiliar tune. A pale light thrums from deep within. 

 

As Wil approaches, the vines seem to coil in on themselves, writhing and squirming, slick squelching as the vine passes over itself. Directly behind this infested podium is a small trapdoor, barely big enough to squeeze through. Tentatively with one hand, Wil opens the trapdoor. A clicking noise pushes it’s way through the stagnant air of the basement, the melody is a familiar one this time however, a gentle reminder of Wil’s humanity. 

 

A heartbeat. 

 

A heartbeat that is thrumming louder and louder, Wil can feel it in his own chest now, the clicking increase, the terrible cacophony of this unnatural orchestra growing louder by the second. Panic bubbles in Wil’s throat, sweat collecting on his clammy skin, tendrils of milky pale brown hair clinging to his forehead like a lifeline. 

 

Pushing it all down, Wil jumps. Down. Into the trapdoor, into the heart of the beast. At the bottom, a large room stretches ahead of him, the walls are hidden behind veils of darkness, the only thing visible from the tendrils of light streaming down through the trapdoor is the cold, hard tiled floor of the church basement. 

 

Wil looks around. Takes a step. 

 

Mistake

 

The organic feel of stepping on mud takes its place under Wil’s boot. A vine, it recoils as Wil lifts his foot, resuming its original intestinal form. The vine lights up, those terrible pulsating lights glowing from deep within the belly of each vine, thrumming to the tune of the insect-like clicking. As the room fills up with the heartbeat of this atrocity, Wil knows one thing for sure. There is no God here. If he could, he’d scream, but sound appears to be what alerts the infestation. 

 

A shadow picks its way through the organic circuitry, soft feet not appearing to make any noise.

 

“What are you doing in my church, Wil.” 

Notes:

tent acles hah funny joke anyways homosexuals. this is wil just posting it for q and i am fucking feral rn HGDshhd