I'm seriously considering adding SCPs and Creepypasta entities to my story because I don't want it to get boring. I want my main character to keep evolving and gaining new powers as the story progresses. His Stand, Ascension, already has the ability to perfectly copy abilities, and it's also self-aware like Sex Pistols from JoJo. On top of that, it can devour abilities and Powers like from Scps and powerful beings, just like Rimuru's Gluttony skill from That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime.
My goal is for my MC to grow constantly stronger, both through battle and by facing greater and more dangerous threats — some of which might eventually become allies or part of his growing legend. I'm also thinking of adding the Endless family from The DC universe, Partly because of Death, who I want to include as a potential harem member.
I'm also planning to include a unique emotional trigger for my MC: whenever he gets extremely angry, his hair turns red and he becomes violently aggressive to anyone except is friends and allies, similar to characters like Jotaro or Josuke from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure like when we gets annoyed or gets insulted.
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[ Third Person POV ]
Dante's been watching for a while now, lounging like it was a slow night at work. which, in a way, it was. Watching Tiffany looking around her place discreetly for chucky to him this exactly thrilling. He respected the setup, sure, but this is dragging on. At this point, it was more awkward than entertaining.
His stomach growled he patted his stomach and sighed.
"Welp," Dante muttered to himself, "Time for lunch."
With a casual flick of his coat, he pulled a compact lunch bag from beneath the folds of his long, crimson-lined leather coat. This was just field work but at the same time entertainment. He casually placed the bag right on the table, yes, the same table where Damien was moving under, still obsessing over that cringe-worthy, badly edited photo of that dead body of that guy with it's head smushed and with that purple nail polish. Poor guy had apparently spent ten hours on it. Dante took one glance and almost choked.
"God… Technology in the 2000s really is prehistoric," he snorted.
Unzipping the lunch bag, Dante pulled out his pineapple Fanta with a satisfying fizz and took a long sip. Next came a juicy In-N-Out burger and a warm bag of fries, perfectly salted. He'd been saving this meal for when the boredom hit. And yeah, it hit hard.
No one could see him. No one could hear him. No one could even smell the fries. This was far from the first time Dante watched horror scenes play out while snacking invisibly. And it sure as hell wouldn't be the last.
He munched on a fry while watching whats happening. Tiffany was slinking around her trailer, trying to discreetly check Chucky's location. Damien, meanwhile, looked like a confused little puppy still searching for his photo.
Dante burst out laughing, nearly choking on his burger.
"BAHAHAHAHA! Look at this dumbass!" he cackled, one hand pointing at Damien while the other tried to keep his food from falling. "Oh my god… I'm dying… This is so embarrassing it should be a crime."
Of course, no one heard a word.
Damien, still completely unaware still looking for his photo, when Tiffany suddenly turned to him with a sultry tone.
"Damien~," she purred.
He perked up, eyes wide. "Yeah?"
Tiffany leaned forward just slightly, her voice honey-sweet. "Could you do me a favor… and see if my lipstick is under the sofa?"
She gestured to the couch where she suspected Chucky might be hiding.
Damien, thinking this was his big moment, removed the napkin he was using as a bib (a classy touch), stood halfway, and then Tiffany stopped him.
"Ah ah ah… back on your knees," she said, wagging a finger with a teasing grin.
He obeyed instantly.
"Crawl," she added, the word drawn out like a command.
"Good boy. Stay down on the floor where you belong…"
He didn't even hesitate. Damien dropped to all fours, crawling toward her with a pathetic attempt at seduction, his eyes trying to sell 'sexy' while his body screamed 'submission.'
Dante paused mid-bite, expression frozen.
"…Wow," he said flatly, mouth half full. "This is… so ewwww. If a woman did that, that would of looked very hot but this is just gross. And this guy?" He took a sip of his Fanta and shook his head. "Not judging, But still, yikes."
Tiffany watched Damien crawl with a fake, seductive smile, but inside she was cringing.
Oh my God, please let Chucky be under there and just kill this guy already… Ugh. Just look at him.
As Damien got close to the couch, he rolled onto his back and stretched an arm under it, searching for the "lipstick."
"There's nothing here…" he mumbled, face scrunched in confusion.
Then—it happened.
A spider fell directly onto his face.
He froze. His body went stiff. Only his eyes moved—wide with horror.
Tiffany gasped slightly, startled, but then smiled with surprising tenderness.
"Charlotte…" she said softly, crouching down.
She scooped the spider into her hands like a precious pet. "How did you get out, sweetheart?" she whispered, carefully placing the spider back in its little box.
Damien, meanwhile, quickly stood up and wiped and lightly smacking his face in disgust, and shivered out of utter revulsion.
Then, the lights went out.
The trailer was shadowy. Both Damien and Tiffany froze, startled.
Tiffany knew immediately is was Chucky's doing.
Damien, however, glanced around in confusion. "Must be the storm…" he muttered.
While Dante was still eating unconcerned.
Tiffany's eyes flicked cautiously around the dimly lit trailer, the shadows stretching long across the walls. She knew he was here. She could feel it. With a quiet, slow step, she made her way toward her bedroom, every movement measured.
Reaching the side of the bed, she dropped to her knees and leaned down, peering underneath.
Meanwhile, Damien—done wiping the feeling of that spider and panic off his face, spotted her from across the trailer. His disgusted expression melted into what he probably thought was a seductive smirk. Quietly, he crept into her room, climbed onto the bed.
"Tiffany…" he whispered in a low, wannabe-sexy voice.
Startled, she jerked her head up. Her eyes met his—him looming over her like a cringey vampire LARPer.
He grinned. "Well… here we are. How long have we been going out, huh?" he said, glancing at the lamp above messing with it a bit.
But Tiffany had already moved on. She was standing now, shifting the curtain aside and scanning the main room again, hoping Chucky would reveal himself and put an end to this shit.
"What?" she said distractedly, still scanning.
Damien, undeterred, kept going. "Don't you think you've kept me waiting long enough?"
Tiffany glanced back at him and simply said, "No." Then she turned away just as fast, back to her search.
Damien's smile faltered. "Oh…" he muttered, deflated, but not defeated. He slithered onto his stomach across the bed, still shirtless, and kept trying.
"You know what the French call an orgasm?" he said. "Le petit mort…"
Tiffany gave a dry, awkward chuckle. "Ehehe…"
Back to Dante, Dante sat at the dinner table, watching the disaster unfold like it was prime-time garbage reality.
Damien started to unbutton his shirt, revealing a constellation of weird, mismatched tattoos.
"Oh great," Dante muttered. " this dude is straight up pathetic look at his tattoos. I don't even have tattoos but that's just embarrassing to me."
He shook his head in disbelief, sipping his soda.
Damien, now fully shirtless and oozing cringe, kept going. "The little death…" he said in his deep voice. "Come on, Tiffany, Let's die a little.
He reached out to take her hand.
Tiffany was just about to shut him down again, until she felt something on her side Curious she turned her head and screamed from being startled.
Right next to her on the sofa, perfectly still, was Chucky. Sitting just like a harmless doll, Too poised. And those stormy flashes outside only made the whole thing worse. Thunder rumbled. Lightning flickered. The entire trailer was wrapped in eerie strobes.
Damien hopped off the bed, annoyed by the scream. "What now?" he groaned.
He walked over, still shirtless, and plopped down beside her with the doll in the way. Grabbing the doll, he raised an eyebrow.
"What the hell is this thing?" he asked, turning Chucky over in his hands.
Still in his doll voice, Chucky responded. "Hi, I'm Chucky! Wanna play?"
Internally, though, Chucky's thoughts were seething: Who the f*ck is this dumbass!?*
He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stared lifelessly.
Damien looked at Tiffany. "Where'd you get this thing?"
"I got it from the cops," she replied casually. "It's the actual doll… the one from those murders. I stitched him back together."
"You're kidding."
"I'm not kidding. Why would I kid about that?"
Damien scoffed. "I knew you were obsessed, but Chucky? He's so '80s. He's not even scary."
"He is scary," Tiffany snapped.
Damien wasn't done. He turned the doll around, mocking it. "What are you lookin' at, punk? Huh? You looking at me ?"
He smacked at Chucky's plastic stitched face. Then God help Dante, he started dry humping the doll.
In the chair, Dante physically recoiled. His face twisted into something between Disgust and embarrassment. He lowered his half-eaten burger and sighed.
"...I just lost my appetite."
He held out the Half eaten burger to his Stand. "Ascension. You want this?"
Directly in front of him, Ascension his stand was sitting cross-legged mid-air, casually twirling his staff. He looked down.
"Hm?" Ascension tilted his head towards the Half eaten burger, then back at Dante. "Yeah… sure. Thanks."
He reached out and grabbed the burger, then opened a sharp, jagged void-mouth in his palm and tossed it in.
Crunch. GULP.
"Mmm. Not bad," he said, licking his thumb with is long tongue and returning to twirling his staff lazily.
Dante leaned back, sipping his Fanta with a content smile with his eyes closed.
[ Ten minutes later ]
Tiffany smiled sweetly as she cuffed Damien's wrists and ankles to the bedposts. The poor fool thought this was foreplay. She gently set Chucky—still playing dead—right on top of Damien's chest, like a toy centerpiece.
Chucky didn't move. Not yet. But his eyes… they twitched toward Tiffany's hips every time they swayed.
Tiffany strutted across the room in full seduction mode, wearing a leather corset, thigh-high boots, fishnet stockings, and gloves. Her hips moved in slow, hypnotic waves, her body language teasing—but her eyes stayed locked on Chucky, not Damien.
Damien grinned like an idiot, watching her twirl.
"You know, Damien," she purred, her voice thick with sultry sarcasm, "there's something I haven't told you about Chucky."
Damien rolled his eyes. "Ugh, again with this Chucky stuff? Don't tell me 'Schmucky' is one of those dolls that wets his pants."
Tiffany spun to face him, hips still swaying. "Ah-ah-ah. I wouldn't talk about Chucky like that if I were you. He's got a very bad temper."
She paused, biting her lip, eyes on the doll. "We lived together for years… before the cops got him. Before they shot him down. That was before he passed his soul into that doll."
She sighed dramatically, her voice laced with twisted nostalgia. "God, was he jealous… Anyone even looked at me, Chucky would take care of them. Wouldn't you, Chucky?"
She asked that last part directly to the doll—her hips still swaying, eyes full of dangerous affection.
Chucky's plastic head didn't move. But his eyes shifted again—tracking.
Damien scoffed, still grinning. "Come on, baby. That little thing? He ain't big enough to handle a woman like you."
Click.
Chucky's head snapped around toward Damien in one smooth, unnatural twist.
Damien froze—his flirty grin evaporated.
Chucky's dead eyes locked onto him. Then, in a voice no longer artificial, Chucky growled, "It ain't the size that counts, asshole… It's what you do with it."
Damien's eyes widened in horror.
Chucky's body spun to match his head, his arms moving now. Without hesitation, he grabbed Damien's lip ring and ripped it clean out with a brutal yank.
"AAAAAAGGHHHHH!" Damien screamed as blood sprayed from his mouth.
He thrashed violently, yanking against the cuffs, trying to escape. But it was already too late.
Chucky tossed the bloody ring aside, laughing wickedly as Damien writhed in pain.
Behind them, Tiffany stood with a wine glass in hand, watching the carnage unfold like it was her favorite soap opera. Her eyes sparkled with thrill, lips parted in awe. No fear. No disgust. Just pure, unfiltered excitement.
"God, I missed this…" she whispered.
Chucky didn't wait. He grabbed a nearby pillow and shoved it over Damien's face, pushing down hard.
Damien thrashed beneath him, screaming into the cushion, but Chucky sat on his chest, using his weight to smother him slowly.
"Die, ya disgusting little shit," Chucky muttered between laughs.
Tiffany giggled softly, covering her mouth. She leaned against the wall, sipping her wine, glowing with dark pleasure.
Chucky finally looked up at her while still pressing the pillow down. "Hi."
Tiffany blushed, her cheeks going slightly red. She twirled her thumbs nervously and replied, "Hi."
"How've you been?" he asked casually, like they hadn't just murdered a man together.
She smiled, warming up again. "Okay. You?"
Chucky raised his hands, shrugging like a king back on his throne. "Peachy. Actually, I've been a little out of it."
"I know," she said, her voice gentler now. "It took me ten years to find you."
Chucky nodded slowly. He spotted a photograph on the nightstand—the same one Damien had obsessed over.
He picked it up and frowned. "Ugh. That's sick. What were you doing with this loser anyway?"
Tiffany grabbed a nearby robe and wrapped it around her. "Ten years is a long time, Chucky. Besides… I wasn't really with him. You know me. I'll kill anybody… but I'll only sleep with someone I love."
Chucky's plastic eyes moved slowly up and down her form. "You look great, Tiff."
Her smile softened. "Thanks…"
"No, I mean it," Chucky said with surprising sincerity. "I always thought you were gonna let yourself go."
An awkward silence fell between them. Tiffany glanced away. The storm outside raged louder.
Underneath Chucky, Damien gave one last twitch—and then went still. His lifeless body finally went limp. The only sound now was the wind and the rain.
Chucky, still sitting atop Damien's corpse, suddenly lifted both hands and wiggled his index fingers.
"C'mere," he said, grinning.
Tiffany smiled, blushing again, and strutted toward him with slow, sultry steps.
When she reached him, she picked him up lovingly. Chucky ran his small hands up her chest, playfully squeezing. She giggled and kissed his forehead.
They chuckled together, reunited at last.
Then—they heard it.
Clink. Clank. Sizzle.
They turned toward the kitchen area.
A man was standing by the stove, humming to himself and stirring a pan of food. He wore a long coat, silver rings on his fingers, and an amused expression.
It was Dante who is wearing a pink apron and has a joint on his lips.
He didn't even look up. He was dancing a little, cooking like he owned the place.
"Hooo-boy," Dante sang softly, "Love me some Swedish meatballs. Tiff, you really outdid yourself with this recipe. Chucky, buddy, how've ya been?"
Chucky blinked, stunned. Tiffany clutched Chucky tighter.
Dante finally looked over his shoulder, grinning.
"Don't worry, I'll be right with you two lovebirds," he said cheerfully. "Just makin' dinner. You can sit at the table."
Then, his voice lowered, just a hint darker While keeping his mischievous smile.
"And hey… just a heads up… if either of you tries anything naughty, bad things tend to happen to people who don't listen to me."
His eyes closed mid-smile,except for one, which remained slightly open. It glowed a menacing black and red, swirling like a storm behind a calm sky.
[ to be continued ]
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Hey everyone!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter — sorry for the delay! If you liked it, please consider dropping some Power Stones to show your support.
If you noticed anything off in the writing or if there's something I could improve, feel free to leave a comment — I genuinely appreciate the feedback.
Also, don't forget to bookmark/save the story and recommend it to others who might enjoy this. The more support I get, the more motivated I am to deliver even crazier chapters.
Thanks again for reading. More madness is on the way!
Just a few things I want to clarify about Ascension, Dante's Stand:
He's completely self-aware — not just a tool or ability, but an intelligent, thinking presence.
He can change his appearance at will.
And yes, he can eat real food, kind of like Sex Pistols from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure.
That's about it for now!
If you have any suggestions for horror movies you'd like to see Dante jump into next, drop them in the comments.
Thanks again for reading — and as always, you're all awesome.💥💥💥