Chapter Text
Eric Derekson was having a nice day, well, as nice as anybody can have in the house that kind of erases your understanding of the world. But! As long as you don’t spend too much time here, you’ll be fine. Plus, the Manor seems to like Eric enough to put his and his father’s room on the farthest sides of it. Although, all the running he has to do now is exhausting.
Oh man, sometimes he really wishes his 15 brothers didn’t die in a car crash. Or his mother in a different car crash. Or his dogs that also died in a car crash. Or his girlfriend that got eaten by penguins. Or that he had feet and not prosthetics. He’s not complaining, no! Don’t get it wrong. His prosthetics are great! Engineer even modified them to be more comfortable.
Eric just really misses Meric, Steric, Leric, Teric, Beric, Smeric, Staric…
But uh, he still got his father, doesn’t he? Ahh, Derek Derekson, you son of a Derek. Always filming the commercials. Always got the stern hand and even harsher voice. Who knew people actually turned red when they were angry enough? Eric did!
It’s not his fault for the lack of charm! Or confidence! God forbid a man is a little bit anxious! All the times he messed up, his palms were too sweaty, he was talking too fast—not talking enough at the same time, he didn’t catch that stupid shirt, he was being too much- alright we should stop.
Eric Derekson was many things, but brave? Ehh. Charming? Not really. Reliable? Okay, now you’re just targeting- A good son? Woah, so much for projecting. Eric Derekson was many things, however, if we’re being specific, Eric Derekson was anxious. On a scale of 1-10 Eric Derekson answered 2-20.
Warfstache has tried interviewing the man, unfortunately, Eric lasted two minutes without stuttering (baby steps!). Then, Warfstache took mercy upon the man and left. (“Oh, he’s great! Truly, a master of answering questions! Wilford guarantee! He just needs a bit of patience and love, right Dark?"—after thought of WMW show)
Oof, anyway, Eric Derekson was having a nice day. A good one, may he even say. Seriously, no filming today, meaning, he could just roam around the manor, exploring whichever side house wanted to show him today—yes, what the house wanted Eric to see, not the opposite. He will not question the manor’s wishes. Everybody who tried got trapped in the upside down. Ha! Nice one, yeah?
He was walking down the corridor, near the main entrance, when stumbling across Dr. Iplier! So nice to see the man outside of his office. Eric just needed to gather all of his social skills in order to not mess up the upcoming conversation.
Get it together, Eric, do not fumble. Make eye contact, stop sweating, shake his hand—does he need to shake his hand? He already knows doctor, everybody does, but what should he do instead? Say hi? Obviously say hi—or hello, yeah, hello sounds more appropriate. Or does it? What if doctor doesn’t even want to talk? Oh my god he’s probably so busy! He’s a doctor after all! And Eric will just interrupt whatever he was doing! Oh no, what if-
“Hello, Eric!” Oh. “Oh, uh, yes, hello doc- doctor, dr. Iplier, yes,” Awh man, he fumbled, didn’t he? Fortunately, universe heard Eric’s pleas, and the doctor’s reaction was simply a chuckle. A chuckle, seriously? He was losing his mind and—
“Everything okay? You’re not having a fever, are you?” Maybe he did, yeah that would explain why he suddenly feels so light, why the lights are so bright out of nowhere. “Oh, no I am great! Okay! Did you, uh, did you need something? I know you’re probably busy- you are a doctor! Not that I’m saying you’re not but-“ without having a chance to defend himself, doctor answered.
“I am not busy, Eric, you are fine. I know I am a doctor, thank you. Today is my turn to clean up the mysterious blood,” that makes lot of sense now. He could help! “I could help!” Did he actually said it out loud? Oh crap, he totally did. “Eric, you don’t have to, your turn was two days ago.” Doctor announced, slightly furrowing his eyebrows. Oh no, did he overstep? He knew his turn was two days ago, he only wanted to help!
You know, the polite thing to do in this situation! Was it polite? Yes it was, stop doubting yourself, maybe doc just wanted to do it himself! Exactly, yes, he just- “But if you insist, come with me. Yancy very annoyingly confirmed the blood is dripping near the main entrance. We do not have to walk long.” With the assurance from the doctor, they went to the main room, looking— oh wow.
That was a lot of blood. Like, too much to brush it off as some cooking accident. Eric looked down, locking his eyes on Yancy (was it Yancy? Or Yanny? Maybe Laurel?) holding a bucket half-filled with red, thick substance.
“Took you’se long enough! Me an’ my bucket are struggling! Pass me that towel, will ya?” Vaguely motioning with his head to the towel on his left. Right, be useful. “Well, I am still not sure why I am on the chart. I am a doctor.” Sat down Iplier next to Yancy, boosting the moral compass of the situation.
“I see you dragged poor Eric with ya, give man a break!” Uh oh. “Oh no! I volunteered to help! It’s fine, really!” Eric scrambled to defend doctor’s honour. “Relax kid, I was just messing with the doc here. I’m gonna go ahead, bring down another one of these, be back soon~” sing-sang Yancy the last few words, he really enjoys music, doesn’t he?
“Do not mind Yancy, he’s got cancer,” WHAT?! “My apologies, he is cancer. His zodiac sign is cancer.” Oh thank god, is this the reason why people call him ‘The doctor of worst news’?
The blood. Holy shit it’s dripping from the radio. Like, the one that is currently hanging above the door. Is this normal? Is there supposed to be blood from it? Judging by Dr. Iplier’s face, it is not normal. Shit.
“Well, this is new, for sure,” mumbled doctor, making Eric regret every decision that led him to this. Besides the fact the radio is bleeding (is this the right term? The radio isn’t alive to bleed), it’s.. speaking? There are certainly noises coming out of it. Clicking and somebody clanging metal, oh my god we are so dead.
Hissing, creaking, loud thuds, roaring and screaming and the noises are becoming so much. Eric desperately wants to curl up under the table, cut off his ears just to not hear those screams and the snap- the crunch. He’s going to vomit. Argh, it-it’s like a bone was broken. Ergh, don’t think about bones. Don’t think about your brothers screaming. Your mother calling your name. Your girlfriend’s last words being ‘please, help!’ No. Don’t.
But it’s so much, it’s too much and the screaming won’t stop and JUST PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP
The blood. The blood is no longer dripping from the ceiling. It’s raining from it. Blood, blood the only thing surrounding them, the screech- the screech. From the radio. A voice from the radio. There is someone alive. They are desperate.
The blood—fuck, he hates that word—it’s- no need to repeat yourself, Eric. Let the blood join you, Butcher—who the fuck is Butcher? Wait, where is doctor? “Doctor!” Cried Eric, fuck where was he? “Eric!” Huh? Did Eric pass out or something?
“You’re alright! Okay! Where is Yancy for hell’s sake?!” Oooh, they made doctor mad. “Here, doc! Brought you more buckets- oh damn. That’s a lotta blood there!” Valid. “Get down and help us.”
Soon, buckets were filled with blood, but it didn’t stop. No, in fact it started flooding the floors, the radio was quiet. Weirdly quiet. Surely, it means everything is fine and blood will stop by now. Please?
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Bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood- helpfully supplied Eric’s brain. Yes, he knows blood, stupid brain! They probably should’ve yelled for more help, maybe then Eric would’ve been able to save his sweater. Awh, man! It was the expensive one too! The laundry, is what, on Fridays? Then-
I just want to live. The radio. Holy fuck it spoke! There- there is-! Keep this safe for me, mom.
A figure rises from the blood, like some fucking symbiote, the three of them scramble to the side, waiting for the figure to fully show itself.
The figure in question was completely drenched in thick, red liquid, thorns and branches all over it, covering like a shield. Is there even a person underneath the mess?
YOU MADE ME LIKE THIS.
Well, here is the answer.
“Holy shit, is that the new guy?”—“What the fuc-“ a new voice appeared, unknown to Eric. “SOMEBODYGETDARK!” And Eric Derekson lets the void consume him.