Every Sunday, with a helping of Silly every Tuesday

"Ragged breathing escaped his lips as he struggled to calm himself. He was seeing red, and wanted to go crazy, there and then, but knew that was too risky. The one bastard he really wanted to kill didn’t look like an easy target, and the three other guys who he had with him seemed just as burly. Slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible, Chucky crept through the bushes bordering the edge of the car park, mirroring the older one’s movements, but always keeping distance. He found he was backing towards the motel, and decided he was in such a position where, if he was going to get the bastard, he’d have to do it now. Slowly, he crouched, drawing a knife from the pocket of his overalls. He crept forward, eyes on the bearded one, waiting for him to come close enough. Closer... closer... Chucky’s breathing became ragged again, as he felt the adrenaline surge in his blood. He shuffled slightly, readying to pounce, as the bearded one came nearer, jabbing at the hedge-row, stooping down to check underneath a nearby car...

With an almighty yell, Chucky threw himself forward at the startled figure, knife raised in mid-swing, eyes glinting demonically. But, suddenly, he found himself being propelled backwards, hands flailing, eyes wide, and yell catching in his throat. He croaked and grunted, thrashing and kicking as he felt himself being swung violently around.

“Holy shit...” Came a voice from behind him, sounding equal parts shocked and amazed.

From his seat on the floor, Bobby stared up, wide eyed, at the thrashing, flailing doll, still waving a knife around, growling and trying to scream through the dog-lasso that was gripping his throat. He looked past the doll, to Sam, who, now he had caught the mysterious creature, wasn’t entirely sure what to do next. Castiel strode over to them, knocked the knife from the hands of the furious doll, and delivered his sleepy-time forehead tap between the wildly flailing limbs. The doll fell still, looking hideously macabre as he hung from the dog lasso, the gentle breeze tugging his mop of red, plastic hair. "

From my Child's Play/Supernatural crossover fiction, which can be found here->


not much to say about this. But I loved drawing Chucky's choking face up there, and this was me trying hard to avoid "generi-spressions", which I feel I had started to rely on somewhat. So... yeah, that's this week... Oh, by the way, the Raccoon is now called "Billy".

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Vikkie Moule ||   

Jack(y) of all trades, master of little, I'm a born and bred country girl living in my head but residing in England ... full profile