#˗ˏˋ 🐰 ———— come out and play ! [ answered ] .

[cultbunny]

"Ain't it warming you, the world going up in flames?"

˗ˏˋ ———— hozier lyrics ( always accepting ) ! [ from @slaughterlocked ] .

someone asking a question like this should have been enough to make her rethink things, make her stop and reevaluate everything that she's been doing for the last year. gathering together friends - a loose use of the word, really just devotees and followers - and finding the perfect victims, carrying around a ghost in her head, the hauntings of madness, the precipice of something far greater, far worse than she could ever envision. yet the question, coming from him, makes her SMILE. it's immediate, and it's wide, teetering on entirely manic. it's his influence on her, it's the way he says it, how she hears it almost fondly, like he appreciates the fact that she's the arsonist burned down the old building, eradicated that piece of history from the books. only they are left now. she did well. she's a lamb being led to the slaughter, praised the entire way. " it had felt... right. to cut this red string. when you begin again, you deserve to start anew. " and fire was the only thing that could cleanse in the way she believed righteous enough to suit him. " does it warm you ? " is what she asks in return, fine eyebrows raised, looking over with curiosity, with the subtle signs of hope. " it was done in your name, after all. " everything she's done, she's done for HIM.

[cultbunny]

❛  is there anything i can do for you?  ❜

˗ˏˋ ———— angsty questions ( always accepting ) ! [ from @trapton ] .

the question startles her, catches her like a doe in headlights. she can't recall the last time she was asked that, the last time someone genuinely cared about her enough to press. she's been away from home for too long, isolated from most offers of companionship. looked to for leading, for devotion, for blood sweat and tears. not much more beyond that. no one really looks at vanessa as a person anymore. she becomes easy to mold when she's reminded of that. offer a few sweet words of how much she matters, that what she does is for a greater cause, and she'll preach the word of ghosts, pick up the knife, spill her own blood.

she straightens up with the quiet that follows the question, still a little wide-eyed. gears turn in her head, trying to come up with an articulate answer. but all she's coming up with is that he's close to her. very close. standing almost chest-to-chest, a head taller than her easy. he's not quite as broad as she had originally thought, that moment of him cradling her against his side taking a new shape. that closeness then, this closeness now, presenting itself as a spiderwebbing WARMTH starting in the pit of her stomach. " tell me i'm good. " it is so soft. the warmth is snaking into her tone. she doesn't know what else to ask. she's AFRAID of what else she could ask. " that what i've done is good. " a single long scar running up a pale arm, so many small ones criss-crossing the palm of a hand, her own sacrifice, her own payment. her heart. " and what i can do, to be good. " the warmth is bringing a very bright, light rose to her face. she'd do anything for that admiration, to earn that pride. her brain is running away from her. with the way they're wired, he's going to catch it first. what is it they say in religions, about loving your gods ?

[cultbunny]

“  there’s nothing wrong with you.  ” ( from circus baby ! )

˗ˏˋ ———— opposite vibes starters ( always accepting ) ! [ from @khalaesi's circus baby ] .

there is a pause after the statement, long and quiet. was it something in the way she moved ? something that was permanently settled on her features ? she didn't know. but she's standing there, hand laying flat against the cheek of circus baby's facial plate, staring back at her with a mixed bag of emotions in her blue hues. she'd just pushed it closed, the resounding SNAP a sound of conclusion, a tell that she had done just what she was supposed to do. the maintenance check was finished. the new silence is encompassing, but it isn't heavy. it's got a lot moving, just below the surface. a ghost. a glitch. a girl. the blonde's stomach makes a jump for her throat. she can't fully tell if what she heard was in her head, or if it was now in reality. she continues to look on at the animatronic, takes her hand back. takes a small step back. returns to both of them a bit of their own space.

" thanks. " she feels a little silly when she says it out loud, but it is soft, genuine. she even smiles, just the tiniest bit. " but you don't know me. " and she doesn't know who she's speaking to. ( not yet. ) no one has really known her in what feels like a lifetime, now.

[cultbunny]

❝ don’t hold back. let it out. ❞ ( from glitch! / @spring-lxcked )

˗ˏˋ ———— "don't" starters ( always accepting ) ! [ from @spring-lxcked's glitchtrap ] .

there's a SICKNESS in the air. it's hot and toxic and sinister, consuming everything in its path. it emanates from her. not only her - two at once, in perfect synchronization. she stands in grays and patchwork, golden wisps of a falling-apart braid around manic eyes, electric blue, neon green, there and not. hand-made mask is down at her feet, discarded, forgotten about, just for the moment. in her hand is a knife, pulled from a megaplex kitchen, too-sharp and too-slick and still-too-ready. it sees her how she sees herself. like she sees it. it's a jittering, glitchy mess of pixels and synthetic modulation. but she hears it. a blink here, a blink there, a blink gone. behind her. that's where the voice comes from. just in her ear. she swears she feels static electricity on her shoulder, on her arm, a proximity to where hands would be. holding her. consoling her. egging her on. what is it asking for ? what does it want ? she can only draw one conclusion. it wants her rage. her longing. her ache. copper stings her nose. she doesn't know if that's in her head too. but it writhes. it's ALIVE. and for the first time in what feels like a very, very long time, next to him, she feels afraid.

" but what if it doesn't stop ? " it's a whisper. what does he want ? REALLY ? does he want her, again and again and again, bleeding and dying, sacrificing, giving and giving and giving until there's nothing but pieces ? she carries out his sentences, his word, to the letter. she is devoted like no other. she has all the scars to prove it. he wants her to give again. to let it out. all she has in her is echoes. is screaming. is ghosts. can she give that ? is that enough ? will it ever be enough ?

[cultbunny]

❛ i won’t give up on you, i know you’re worth it! ❜ malhare :3 ?

˗ˏˋ ———— horror-themed sentence starters | always accepting ! | from @trapton's malhare.

the shaking won't stop. it started in her hands, and what meager amount of control she had on it was shaken out of her by all the feelings trying to get their moment on her. it's everywhere now. everywhere that matters. tight in her shoulders, buckling her knees, so bad her fingers can't keep grip on the handle of a knife. she has to set it down, lays it flat, delicate, like its GLASS. hands lay on the surface, fingers splay. nothing settles. she is still shaking. it's the fight of her life here, really coming back into her own. and when she puts up a fight, that's when he comes back to her like this, the way she first found him. the shaking takes to her stomach, makes her a little nauseous. this is the nature of this glitch, this virus in her brain. with it she can hear the buzzing of electricity, the humming of fans, the life of artificial intelligence. somewhere in the song, there is a voice. ozone-sharp and reeking of burning. it talks like it knows everything she's been dealing with, how recently it's only gotten harder.

" how do you know ? " this part feels like being lost in a dark forest, sun going down, nothing but shadow and stars. it's newer than everything else she's had to share with them. this shaken faith, this wanting to go back. she's hyperaware of how long it's been since she's heard her parents voices, the last time she's spoken to any of her recruited friends. it's just been her and them for who know how long now. " i don't... i don't feel... " she blinks. breathes in, breathes out, shakiness in her exhale. she's trying to sort out the thoughts, theirs and hers, trying to find another line of separation. trying to BREAK FREE. does she not feel worth it ? or does any of this not feel worth it ?

[cultbunny]

❛ what do you want from me? ❜

˗ˏˋ ———— angsty questions ( always accepting ) ! [ from @braveburned ] .

the question gregory asks her barely registers, is hardly heard over the thunder in her ears. there's a lot of sound that drowns him out, overtakes his desperation, his fright. static and the thumping of a quick heartbeat. all she sees is red. her brain is just sirens. vanny is ANGRY tonight. out for blood. the question simply makes her yell. it's a hellish sound, crackling with electricity, filled with frustration. it's a human yelling. it's a beast howling. she picks up her pace, going from a brisk walk to a full-sprint. she's chasing after him now, adrenaline fueled by fury. " how do you still not GET IT ? " it doesn't matter if the mask is on, she can be heard loud and clear. well past closing, well into the night, nothing is there to stifle her, not even the low buzz of the neon around them. it's him and her and the service robots, and they pay her and him no mind at all. the problem has been the same with him since she discovered him. he simply knows too much. about her, about what's in her, about the megaplex. everything she has carefully put together over the last year, all the blood she has spilled, what she was meant to do, is at risk because of this one young boy.

" I WANT YOU DEAD ! "

the rare occasion where her and what's inside her are BOTH in agreement.

[cultbunny]

“  what the hell is wrong with you?  ”

˗ˏˋ ———— confrontations ( always accepting ) ! [ from @staystillgregory ] .

the question reaches her, and she LAUGHS. the laugh is sharp, electric, like a charged wire. a sound that cracks through the air as she comes after him, knife in hand. she finds it desperate. she finds it dumb. " what's WRONG with me ? " she repeats, and for emphasis, she stops. gives him space. throws her arms out. ready to take a shot. ready to die. ready to kill. " oh, gregory, what a silly question ! " her voice hums when she says his name, a classic sound at this point. " sometimes i forget how young you are. " her arms drop. she still doesn't move. head tilts. a little lost in thought. in a memory, maybe. someone else's brain entirely, for just a second. reminded of someone else, from a long time ago. but vanny blinks, the grip tightens around the hilt of the kitchen knife once more. they are one again. entirely here. after him. " there's so much to do, you know ! and sometimes i just get a little, well, in my own head. " ended with a giggle. that'll be all in terms of that. she's back to moving, quick like a baby bunny, skipping breaking up her pace, giving her an eerily cute demeanor. " but everything will get better ! you just have to STOP RUNNING, gregory. and we can do this together ! " there's a heavy implication there, a lot of questions needing answers. " doesn't that sound nice ? being able to have someone who needs you ? " it's a low shot to aim for, knowing what she does of him, but there's nothing stopping her now.

[cultbunny]

breathe - will/malhare holds vanessa closely to help them wind down after a stressful day/event (ok hear me out bc what if he shows up as himself in her head sometimes, but also feel free to have him in the suit)

˗ˏˋ ———— gentle actions & prompts ( always accepting ) ! [ from @trapton ] .

she is hardly ever herself anymore. she is barely vanessa andrews. she is only ever vanny. only ever vanessa. a security guard. a killer. a vessel. NEVER her own. when she is reminded of this, it is not gentle. it is not a dawning realization. it hits her like a bat to the back of the head. blinding. searing. it sends her spiraling. retreating into herself. all she can do to not have a total breakdown, to protect herself from an oncoming storm. batten down the hatches. it is where she finds him. a vague impression, memories and imprints on the electrical field, down to a supernaturally subatomic level. making himself known, just like the first time. and it just upsets her more. makes her legs go out. she's on the floor of her somewhere, struggling. too much. nothing at all. ALONE.

but not. footsteps. the vague impression has legs. arms. hands. a torso. on their knees just next to her. taking her into an embrace like she's never felt before. this is a person, definitively so, just a little taller than her, just a little broader than her, but cradling her like she were freshly-spun glass. she knows it's a man just by the shape of them. and she TRUSTS him. ( she always has. ) she lets herself be held, even leans into it, lets the existential crisis ebb away, focuses on matching her breathing with his. they are perfectly aligned when she voices her worry. " don't. don't let go yet. " she's entirely vulnerable, softer than she's been in years. she knows this isn't wholly real, this is coping, but she is still afraid. " please ? " does she even know who he is ? what she's asking of him ? it doesn't matter. ( it never did. )

[cultbunny]

❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜ okay so, hear me out - maybe in my new-ish human verse in the SB timeline

˗ˏˋ ———— hozier lyrics ( always accepting ) ! [ from @trapton / security breach!william afton ] .

for such a small thing, she can REALLY hold her own in times like these. power is something she is only comfortable with in small doses, control something she gives away more often than she keeps. egotistical was never synonymous with her name. vanessa was always a sweet girl, a good girl, proper and normal in every facet of her existence. but she is CONFIDENT. that's the catch. she knows what to do with power. knows how to handle it right. give her the opportunity, and she's a natural. a leader, a commander. a friend, a confidante. the offer here is a different kind of power. intimacy is a warm spot, a low golden light in her, seeping from the hands on her hips and cutting through her in rays. she GLOWS with the smile, the thoughtfulness that crosses her pretty features with the low-spoken words. there was a lot of time behind those words, a year's worth of back-and-forth and growing dependency on one another, a culmination of extensive history and a dynamic only their shared traits could have created. now, he sits just in front of her, her legs on either side of his lap, very real and very wanting, in this tiny apartment bedroom she could only afford thanks to the career opportunity he's offered her.

a thin hand comes up, tucks a stray lock of brunette hair back into place. she's semi-focused, a little lost in thought. the entire night is theirs, only theirs, the last twelve months of everything unsaid now just a breath between them. it takes EVERYTHING in her to let her hand rest on his face, a thumb running a soft path across cheekbone, and keep it there, instead of putting her hand around his neck and dragging him up to kiss her properly. " is that what you want ? " she asks, and it's as gentle as her touch. baby blues refocus, takes his gaze, holds. " you want me to tell you how much i want you ? " she's already going pink in the face, the art of the talk not one she's practiced often, but her words don't waver. " how i've - how i've thought about you, for the last year ? " it catches, just a bit, the stutter a bite of shyness. " because it's not exactly the most, uhm, modest. " her smile returns, demure, pure, warm.

[cultbunny]

❛ i have never loved a darker blue than the darkness i have known in you. ❜

˗ˏˋ ———— hozier lyrics ( always accepting ) ! [ from @trapton / william afton ] .

she doesn't lose control of things. that is just not who she is, not who she has built herself up to be. she was raised to know when the burden is too much, when the weight is too heavy, when she can no longer do the thing that she needs to do. she knows about teamwork, how it takes a village, how asking for help is okay. she knows when she needs help. but over the last year, she has entirely IGNORED that intuition, completely disregarded everything she was ever taught. she has done so in his name, for this thing they have together. freedom and peace, acceptance and love, sacrifice and resurrection. it explains away all the blood. all the tears. this particular weight she carries is not shared. it is entirely her own, when she is all alone, no cult friends at her side, when the buzzing in her brain is quiet. when she panics. when she starts killing in his name but for the wrong reason, when she just wants him to be there with her. so her loneliness isn't used as a point to make. all the blood on her hands, splattered down her white shirt, heaving chest and shaking legs. a desperation to it. a sadness to it. it only ebbs when she HEARS him, when the presence prickles over her skin, makes the fine hairs on her arm stand on end.

there's something ghostly about the feeling under her chin, a knuckle, or two fingers, a touch she can't quite tell is based in reality or in her head. she's a little sick with want and even sicker with fright, on the comedown, hazy-eyed and too vulnerable. when his voice touches her too, it feels like someone breathing into her. she's a bit more aware, but she still feels so, so small. and one words sticks out to her. gods love too. loves her ? " it's yours. " a small pause. " it's mine. " another. " it's ours. " this darkness, this seething, this hunger. it's fresh and it's new and it can't be carried alone. he can't leave her again, even if she makes him angry. " you gave it to me. " her voice is gentle, watery. " we share it. " when she blinks, she starts to see him, and her heart hurts. " you promised. " she reaches up, doesn't even know if she's going to come into contact with anything. she put herself in an entirely different reality, and she's BARELY hanging on.

[cultbunny]

❛ would things be easier if there was a right way? ❜

˗ˏˋ ———— hozier lyrics ( always accepting ) ! [ from @trapton / glitchtrap ] .

she takes a breath in, tastes humidity and heat, decay and dirt, a past not her own. holds it, lets it out through her nose, keeps it even so as not to let it sound like a sigh or a huff. like she's ungrateful, like she is the young girl that stands before him, like doesn't want to see this through. it is a year in the making, all together now, by her hand and the grace of pure determination and FIGHT. out of her, into another, no longer on borrowed time. immortality, electricity, coding. blood, blood, and more blood. hers, his, so many others. " sure. " vanessa takes her standard-uniform cap off, pulls the ponytail out of her hair. it was useless the moment she got down here, and it only irritated her the warmer she got, the more she moved. now she's in front of a charging pod, pulsing low and slow with charging light, everything stark white slipping into grimy shadow and highlighting wheat blonde with rose cheeks. " but i don't think there is a right way. " if he wants to wax philosophical, for the time he's in front of her rather than inside her head, she can hold her own. she's pretty, but she's not stupid. " i don't think there ever was, " she adds, and she doesn't catch the lilt in her voice, the melancholy. an ache, human, reality on her lips just for the moment. " there's only your way. " and there's her hand when she turns to the anomaly, reaching out for him to take. a respect. a resignation. " our way. " she is as much a god as he. she can offer him a new body, a body not her own, a body she creates, but he is the one with ultimate power. he is the one who can still say NO. " right ? " and the softness of the hope, the desperation of the desire for reassurance, is clinging to the air, pooled in her palm. when he touches her he'll be back with her. it'll be cramped living quarters until this magnum opus of their combined effort is achieved.

[cultbunny]

“ i don’t know why you thought i wasn’t going to notice. but i see right through you. ” ( HI I AM SO SORRY FOR DEVON )

˗ˏˋ ———— confrontations | always accepting ! | from @guardprotect.

she is quiet. back turned. part of her tells her to ignore it. the part that isn't her. this isn't something she needs to engage in, to put herself on the line for. he's technically her superior, in a way, seniority what really matters with the fazbear name, but there's no question to answer, nothing to exactly be responsible for or own up to. just an ACCUSATION. she's a fighter, always been a defender. she's always trying to look out for those who need help. it's how she ended up in this situation in the first place, brain now occupying two. she's a debater, healthy, but not argumentative. calculated, but not sly. she keeps quiet as she works through what to say. how to go about what to do next. she does not want to lie. she's not a liar. but she's become one, in the last year, since she started this security job. she's had to lie so much, to so many, it should be second nature to her by this point. but her silence is too long. she's been accused, and now she's CAUGHT.

she gives a click of the tongue. doesn't turn to look at him. starts to pull her hair into her uniform-standard ponytail instead. " i don't know what you're talking about, dev. " they're just close enough to where she shortens his name, where she considers them friends. but not close enough to not at least feign a bit of offense, to pretend like he's seeing and feeling things that just aren't there.

[cultbunny]

🙊 ― a memory you don’t ever talk about.

˗ˏˋ ———— a walk down memory lane | always accepting ! | from @chrchgrl | a memory vanessa never talks about.

it had to be her, didn't it ? because that's just how fate works, how destiny aligns itself. VANESSA ANDREWS had to be the one to find the body hunched in the corner of the half-packed room, still as the boxes stacked around it, encased and overcome by shadows. the only reason why she saw the body was because she had opened the door, let the light spill into the pitch-dark room, caught the body's back and it's sweat-soaked button-up in the flood of industry-white fluorescents. and the blood. there was a body, and there was BLOOD. her own eyes working backwards, taking things in to where she stood. small spots, at first, little black buttons on the standard-issue blue carpet, and then a long, wide, unbroken line of it leading to the corner. somewhere near the middle of the line, just off to one side, was what earned all that blood - a businesslike paper cutter, but broken. half of one, just the blade. silver glinting lowly in the offhand light, and all the black-blue-red blood around it, on it, not even all the way dry because there was so much of it.

it was unfortunate, how quickly she recognized the head of hair attached to the body. but of course, because she was a human, a normal and all together well-adjusted human who had no previous experience with anything like this before, who wasn't even a horror movie fan really, didn't want to believe it. that it was her co-worker in the corner, the oddball boy who helped beta test an oddball videogame with her in an oddball office somewhere in the gloomy business district of a city she sort of hated. they barely knew one another, but they knew each other's names. JEREMY. there was movement. was it even him moving ? or a last attempt at trying to hurt himself further ? just a final breath ? simply him trying to see just who had opened the door ? toppling to one side, managing to land perfectly, like something out of a movie. hitting the ground with a muffled thud, laid out, facing her, shoulders-up, caught in the wide open light. it was a horror. a real-life, true and honest terror. she was so caught off-guard by the extent of the damage done to to his facial features, all the red and the pink and the white, all of the rawness and shininess and everything underneath being visible, that she couldn't even comprehend it.

but she remembers every excruciating detail nonetheless.

[cultbunny]

“  stop brushing me off.  i know something is going on.  ” (For Mike's main SB AU)

˗ˏˋ ———— confrontations ( always accepting ) ! [ from @donewithyourschmidt ] .

for a long, LONG few moments, vanessa is still, gears turning in her head, very carefully crafting a response. mike can't see it working across her features, he threw it at her as she was walking away from him, but she's not that hard to read. she knows he can see it on her, how she carries it. she's been caught. but doing WHAT ? that's the question. the question she won't answer. doesn't need to answer. this megaplex is her's, first and foremost. her job, her refuge, her home. everyone knows her by name. he hasn't even been here that long. all he knows is that something is wrong. something feels off. and that's how it needs to stay. that's just as easy to turn on its head. " something is going on with me, or... ? " ball is in his court now. the attention isn't exactly off of her, but the question is framed like HE'S the suspicious one, he's the odd one out for thinking something was at all amiss.

[cultbunny]

❛ you can’t make me disappear. ❜ (from addy)

˗ˏˋ ———— dark and angsty starters ( always accepting ) ! [ from @tragicsongs' addison blackwood ] .

she'd had a feeling, an inkling at best, about the possibility of someone else being in here after-hours. she already had to deal with one of them, gregory just a bit too small and just a bit too clever to get caught by her, and she did not have the patience to deal with another. but this one, this girl, she was either terrible at hiding, or simply WANTED to be caught. one of the security bots had started making noise, and it had been easy enough to track her own from there. just follow the alarms. coming across her on the top floor of the building, doused in neon light and creeping shadows, the words catch her off-guard. make vanessa stop, face scrunching. " i... never said i wanted you to disappear. " it's sharp, but it's confused. something stirs in her chest at the words, the voice. ( a beat, awakening. ) " i just need you out of here. " here being the ENTIRE megaplex. " we're way past closing, kid. i don't know what you're waiting around for, but it's not happening. " but the clothes she wears are of the dayshift, of someone she calls co-worker. it doesn't matter. a beat. " unless you're looking for the other kid, then by all means, the both of you can leave together, " she adds, half-hoping that was the actual reason for it. anything to get everyone out and leave her be.

[cultbunny]

“ no— stop. go on ahead. i can take care of this myself. ” / from william :3

˗ˏˋ ———— injury prompts ( always accepting ) ! [ from @fragmcntdstars' william afton ] .

resurrection comes with some drawbacks. she should've figured this out, in all that time paling around with him, but it hadn't even occurred to her once. tearing someone out of death's hands can cause a bit of an issue, in the grand scheme of things. they sort of have to figure it out together now, like most everything else. she isn't exactly FUSSING about the injury, but she's got a frantic look on her face, like a deer caught in headlights. she shouldn't be so scared, she's seen and caused much worse, but she's his devout. she worries because she cares. despite his attempt at reassurance, trying to send her on her way, she will stay. does a half-look over her shoulder, over his, makes sure they're not being followed. not being chased. and then she's right in front of him. half an armslength worth of space between them. " i don't think so. " this is something he'll learn about her, and FAST - once she's set her mind to something, she's not one to give up.

she takes a pause, looks him over. she tries, uses absolutely EVERYTHING in her to not linger, to not stare, to not take him in in any way other than practical. assessing damage. they're both a little dirty, a little too warm. that's entirely to boiler room's fault, not far off. her hair's falling out of her braid. some of his is starting to fall in front of his face. her fingers instinctively twitch at her sides, want to tuck it back. she looks up to him, eyes her own soft, clear blue. she is entirely herself. steady. " where are you hurt ? " she asks first. she doesn't allow herself to touch without asking, doesn't even reach. not out of fear. out of respect.