3This fic was written for ask-octavian-theteddykiller on Tumblr. Go support them.
Teddy gave a wordless, silent whimper, knowing that his time is up.
He had managed to bide his time from the pasty blond boy, but every time, his friends were taken from the warehouse and never returned, or were thrown back in occasionally with their guts torn open, leaking white fluff.
Warm hands took him by the shoulders and laid him on a cold marble slab, and a chilling voice asked, "What does the future hold?" and the warm hand brought the cold metal knife down.
I have a soft spot for angst, horror and dramatic stuff, don't I?