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#especially if hes stuck w them to survive
appri-dot · 27 days
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Woody has yaoi with Fencer
Lemmy has beef with Construct
Now I need oc interactive goobs for literally everyone else
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jazjelspen · 3 months
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scarlet and silver lining
(alastor w/ daughter reader)
(fem reader/notproofread!/apologies for anything ooc still trying to get used to writing fics again lol/possible part 1 after the epilogue)
[Prologue]
You never truly got along with your 'father', not even in life until the passing of his mother.. your grandmother.
Technically she wasn't exactly your grandmother, and Alastor wasn't your father.. at least not by blood but by adoption papers. Poor Nana, she just wanted a little grandbaby running around the house before her days started getting counted down.
Alastor knowing that he didn't want to go through the trouble of finding a wife nor did he want to deal with the issues that came with that let alone the process to conceive a kid, with a heart full yet a hesitant hand he then signed your papers.. adopted you for the kind old woman at the age of six.
Orphaned by your parents sudden passing, you never truly found out why or how they died. Only thing you knew was that it was sudden, unprovoked, unasked for. They were healthy yet from what you could hear from the cops that took you from your empty home was that there was blood, lots of it.
With no family to take care of poor little you, you got thrown in an orphanage and stayed there hoping to be rescued and loved someday.
Till one day a man with a large smile and clean-cut clothes walked in with a gentle old lady, both talking to one of the adults in charge of the place. Eventually while touring the building they managed to find you hidden in a corner reading a picture book, reading about a baby deer finding his way in the world without his mother, this intrigued the lady and she started to speak to you.
No matter how much the man tried to get the lady to start moving to look at more options she was so stuck to you, your innocent and your little voice attempting to use big words entranced her poor heart and in that moment she just knew you had to be her granddaughter. After she said the word, the adult responsible led them to talk more and sign papers and the rest is history.
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That was all you were willing to think far into when it came to your past, not wanting to remember what once was before falling into Hell.
You died around the 1940s, you followed in your fathers footsteps and created your own radio show before you died and being the daughter of Alastor in life had it's perks when he was famous in your home of New Orleans.
Although, you kept your secret deep in the ground when it came to your connection to Alastor. No way in hell would anyone know he was your adoptive father, you knew it'd only make you an even bigger target.
Especially to Vox, your boss and the demon that owned your soul.
Also the man that hated your father with his guts, but of course he didn't need to know any of that.
Your contract with him allowed you to be on his show, have a segment of it, get the royalties from it and be under his protection and his roof, in exchange you do any job he asks you to do no matter how hard or long it gets.
God did you hate transitioning from radio to TV, you were never fond of those color video boxes.. they lacked personality and were shallow in the content they produced. but hey, you needed to survive in hell somehow so why not just throw your soul to this TV guy to stay safe from the exterminations and other ruthless sinners.
You died around the time when the Radio Demon was barley getting the word out and showing his true power, the day you recognized his voice and heard his name blasted everywhere was when you knew he was worser than you thought, you didn't think he was this much of a sadist in life.. he must've hid it incredibly well from you then.
And you hated him for that.
Hated him for killing innocents, his sadistic tendencies, his power, his smile, his singing and his lies. His lies that he was your kind ol' dad that would do nothing wrong.
God.
But here you were now in present time being forced to be at the Hazbin Hotel by Vox.
Your hand currently leaning over to knock on the door ready to knock. You'd be warned that Alastor was here, and were warn to be more careful with your words and actions considering how badly Sir Pencious messed up before. This time bringing no technology with you but your head, memory, and a few things to sleep a few nights at this establishment. You were told that you would get more royalties and more perks like even getting your own show to rule over completely if you succeeded in this mission.. and god did you need your own place and studio so that Valentino didn't bother you any longer.
Your lips parted to let out a shaky sigh, a sweat bead running down your forehead down to the side of your face.
'c'mon ____, keep it together will ya?..' your thoughts scolded at you,
Your free hand wiped it away before finally knocking on the door of the hotel, hands shaky and your practiced smile of years
The door opening and being met with the princess of hell, Charlie Morningstar.
You could've sworn you felt the red eyes of a certain radio demon stare at you full force behind the princess's back.
Charlie gasped, seemingly more than ever excited to see someone new.
Your lips parted and started to move, you thoughts racing as you could feel more people stare from behind the royal.
You knew you'd regret doing this mission, Alastor being involved in it should've kept you away..
but if there was a chance to either get a solution to fully get away from the V's or to benefit from them if you did all this right, then so be it.
"Hello.. you must be Charlie right.. My name is ______ and I heard you are redeeming sinners? Your highness, I believe in your cause.. please help me relieve myself of my sins."
Your hands went from holding your luggage to clasping together with a face full of worry and a need to get better. Even you were unsure if you meant what you said, but you just knew that you knew what you had to do no matter what.. you would benefit from this somehow.
"Please, let me redeem yourself in your Hazbin Hotel, Princess Morningstar."
(hello readers!! thank you so much for taking a look at this epilogue of a possible new pic series! I actually made this fanfic almost three years ago on quotev but I want to bring it to life in a different fashion and new writing, so I hope you can stick around till the end of this series!!)
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slytherinshua · 4 months
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WHEN WE MEET AGAIN
genre. angst. maybe werewolf au but not rly. warnings. crying. separation. blood mention. kissing. i know very very little abt &team's storyline so this is def not accurate. pairing. k x fem!reader. wc. 945. request. no. a/n. this ending scene from firework always had my brain spinning since i first watched the mv. i wanted to make a fic out of it for the longest time. if i knew the lore more then i might know what's going on in that scene, but i just took the random inspiration i was getting from the vibes.
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You opened your eyes when the moon was half an hour from being at its height. Shrugging off Taki who was sleeping on top of you and carefully stepping out of the huddled pile of the rest of the boys, you made your way over to the shoreline and waited.
It didn’t take long for him to walk up next to you. You wanted to look at him, but you kept your gaze on the water, too afraid that you’d break if you took even one look. The air was heavy and cold, and the pit in your stomach only grew as the seconds went by.
“Yudai.” You finally broke the silence with a whisper, and turned your head to look at him. You immediately wish you hadn’t. 
No, it wasn’t from the dried blood on his hands or the messy hair that made him look even more attractive than he already was. It was the wetness on his cheeks; the tears that had already escaped his eyes to slide slowly down until they hit the sand. 
“I just don’t think it’s safe anymore.” He whispered. His voice was choked up and a little raspy.
“W-we were doing fine, though. We were holding on.” You tried to argue with him, but you knew it would be of little use. The past few months had been less than ideal, especially for the younger boys. You just couldn’t think of accepting whatever Yudai was suggesting. 
“We weren’t— We aren’t. We’re not okay, Y/n. You know we’re not.” He let out a heavy sigh and brushed the tears off his cheeks. “I can’t keep asking Yuma to go on food duty. He flinches if he even sees a bug. If we keep this up, they’re all going to be traumatized. I don’t want them to live like this.”
“I know. But don’t you think it’s too extreme? Isn’t there any other way?”
“No one is going to mess with you once I’m gone. You know they’re only after me in the first place.” He reasoned. You knew he was right. He was always right— always sensible while you were selfish.
“I don’t want to go on without you.” You said, a single tear slipping out.
He looked away from you, back at the water lapping at the shore and the moon shining brightly against the sand.
“I’ll find you again. Once I get them, I’ll find you again.” He muttered. You reached for his hand weakly. You knew you shouldn’t. Any amount of contact with him would make it a million times harder for both of you, but you couldn’t stand it. You couldn’t stand being right next to him and not embracing him; not touching him in some way, providing any comfort that you could. You knew he desperately needed it.
He didn’t shake off your hand, which was what you were most afraid of. The fact that he still held you with the same warmth simultaneously made it better and so much worse. You weren’t sure how you would survive for any amount of time without him.
“What if you can’t find me again?” You whispered your worry aloud and Yudai squeezed your hand. His hand was cold despite the warmth of his love. His fingers were practically icicles and the dried blood still stuck to them didn’t help. You didn’t mind the cold or the blood. All you wanted was one last chance to hold him.
“I will find you. I promise.” He assured you, resting his forehead against yours. A tear fell from his eyes and landed on your cheek. You reached up one of your hands to cup his face.
“I’ll wait for you. Even if it takes 10 years, or 20, or 50— I’ll still be waiting.” You promised him back.
He nodded, silently agreeing that he would also wait for you. His breath was cold hitting your lips; so cold that the thought of hypothermia crossed your mind. But you knew you had no time to ask about it or to worry. You had seen him get through worse; a bit of exposure to the chill of the winter wouldn’t be the end of him.
Though his lips were cold, the kiss was warm. You hoped it warmed his body as much as it warmed yours. It spread from your heart to your stomach and up your neck to your head. You felt light as if you were floating. The dread that was weighing in your stomach for so long lessened as you thought of his promise.
This wasn’t the end. It was just a pause. He was going to find you again.
When he broke off the kiss, you knew you didn’t have much time left, so you pulled him close into your arms for your last hug. He hugged you tightly, as if you were the one disappearing and not him. And as soon as he started pulling away again you wanted to cry, or pull him back, or try to think of a better solution— anything to not watch him walking away from you.
But you stayed silent. You had already been selfish; wanting one last touch, one last hug, one last kiss. You should have let him go without the promises and without the tears. Watching him disappear before your eyes, giving you one last look before escaping into the trees was like a stab to your heart. You dropped to the sand in tears. The hurt seeped into every part of your body, an ache, a stab, a lurch; it was overpowering.
Surely, the pain would be bearable if you had only loved him less?
↳ &team taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kpoprhia,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @chiiyuuvv
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nordickies · 7 months
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I'm curious, how do you view Åland in your head? Are they Sweden and Finland's kid or something else? How about Faroe, what is their relationship to Denmark? Or Greenland (I know for a fact that Greenland's relationship with Denmark isn't good)
Sorry for the long ask ;w;
Hello anon! It's not a long question! I just don't really know how to introduce these guys, so let's start with an oversimplified relationship chart, I guess?
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Quick explanation under the cut. I don't know why it is so scary to talk about my OCs publicly, aah
Åland isn't Sweden and Finland's kid, but she's significantly younger than them, and they did end up practically raising her together. I've been going back and forth on whether I want her to be their "kid" or not - but in the end, I decided to apply the same logic I use with Denmark and Iceland; it's some kind of guardianship.
To me, guardianship means person X is looking after person Y and being responsible for their upbringing. In these instances, we're talking about significantly younger Nations that have been juveniles for most of their lifetime; someone has needed to take the custodian responsibility over them. But because the relationship can be interpreted as parental or siblinglike (with a significant age gap), I just prefer to use the term "guardian."
Faroe, just like Iceland, was raised by Denmark. Except unlucky for him, he's still stuck with the old man. Faroe just tends to get forgotten a lot. He's a friendly young gentleman, the "easy" child in a messy household, if you will. Though he wishes he made more of a noise about himself - to remind everyone that he exists and show that he's indeed an individual. Well, at least he has Åland to keep him company, since they're both doomed to sit at the "kids' table" during family gatherings. And yes, they're the same age as Iceland
While Denmark has been Greenland's "guardian" on paper, they never developed that kind of relationship. She doesn't feel particularly close to him and for various reasons, she never adjusted to her "adoptive" family. The relationship is rough but they still try to make it work somehow. Nowadays, she's happier with home rule, slowly making her way toward potential full independence. Greenland, Kalaallit Nunaat, has been inhabited by indigenous people for thousands of years. But this isn't the same Greenland that would have been around during the Viking Age. I'm just basing that on the fact that the ancestors of the modern people of Greenland, the Inuit, came to the island from the east in the 13th century, referred to as the Thule culture, which replaced the former Dorset/Tuniit culture.
Sápmi is the oldest Nation of the bunch by a long margin. Because of this, she has acted as a mentor figure to the Fennoscandians in their youth and is often referred to as their "aunt." Sápmi's relationship with her neighbors has been extremely turbulent. But still, she remembers them as hopeless little kids getting lost in the wilderness, whom she taught survival skills. She sees them as her unruly boys but feels especially bad that Finland had to grow up so soon. She still finds herself scolding Sweden, who to this day acts like a little kid around her. Norway views her in high regard, someone he goes to with his worries and feelings. She's a nation with no state, but tries her best to represent her people and culture to the world.
Karelia is an older Nation as well, perhaps older than the Scandinavians. Karelia is a Baltic-Finnic nation extending from Lake Ladoga to the White Sea. She has longtime connections with Finland, Sweden, Estonia, Ingria, Sápmi, Russia, and Ukraine. But she has always been a nation between East and West, being literally split between them even to this day. Karelia's borders have changed constantly throughout history, making the region extremely diverse. Because of this, and her people being broken apart multiple times in recent memory, her identity feels a bit shattered. Yet it's incredibly strong, with colorful culture, traditions, and language - being unique from the other Finnic groups.
I personally think that Nations and their relationships with each other don't have to be 1-1 adaptations to their real-life counterparts, where every single historical event plays out exactly like in a textbook. History, culture, politics, and, most importantly, people's personal experiences and relationships with their country will always be individual even to people from the same group. But we also shouldn't completely ignore and sugarcoat history, thus downplaying or, in the worst case, contributing to the ongoing harm. So, as rich as the source to create OCs is in this fandom, it's also an endless loophole with no clear answer to anything. But as long as we're ready to be respectful, be willing to learn, and keep an open mind, I don't see a problem with it <3
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smnthchrstn · 5 months
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heartbeat prompt 28 for austin? 😍
Literally can’t tell you how sorry I am that this took me checks calendar five months to write and finish. Thank you for requesting ❤️ to see more prompts from this particular list click here. To send me a request please click here. To see my masterlist please click here. Thank you :)
plot: based on no. 28 of this post: “"I love hearing your heart racing like this for me." / you work at the SNL studios and it is December 2022. Austin has arrived to practice for the week to host the holiday show and you two are getting busy in a dressing room. Happy Holidays! 💋
Content warning: smut/mature themes, p in v (protected)
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He had his head against your breast. Or at least that’s what it had felt like. You were both basking in the aftermath of one explicitly rated endeavor, in your dressing room, hidden far away from everyone else on a couch.
The two of you had been screwing around for some time - but you lived and worked out of New York City. Geographically, it hadn’t been the easiest of things to figure out. Austin was this up and coming movie star, his success with Elvis that summer had been unlike anything you’d witnessed before and it had kept him as busy as ever.
But you’d pulled some strings and Lorne Michaels said he’d be thrilled to have someone who had so much publicity going around him that summer to host the final Saturday Night Live episode of the year, and especially the holiday show! You were excited beyond belief and couldn’t wait to share the news with Austin, although it had to come from his agency first.
Once he’d landed in New York it hadn’t taken him long to get to your dressing room.
“Wait, what about your girl-“ he cut you off as he placed a hand on your arm. “We’re on a break,” he murmured. His cologne made you want to sneeze a little but you didn’t. You laid back against the couch and took him in. His sparkly blue eyes captivated you, swallowing you wholly, as if you could get sucked into them like waves on a beach carrying you far, far away. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, looking at you the same way you were admiring him.
It took mere seconds for him to lean in and press his lips to yours, the heat rising between both of you. You could tell instantaneously that he was growing beneath you, he kept attempting to grab at himself. “Baby, let me take care of you,” you whispered, moving your hands to his jeans and unzipping them carefully. Light eyelashes fluttered open as his blue eyes darkened some and settled on your face. You ran your free hand through his hair, feeling sweat at the base of his neck and scratched down his back gently. You nodded once or twice to let him know. “Go ahead,” you mouthed. Long and slender fingers peeled away your leggings and slipped off anything underneath them. Hot breath and warm lips sent shivers to your lower stomach and pelvic area as he kissed down your legs and reached your inner thighs.
“I don’t care how you have me, just take me,” you finally moaned, feeling the pressure between your own legs intensify unbelievably. “Baby girl, give me a minute to warm you up.” That damned Southern drawl had stuck around - good thing too because it’d be written into a sketch or two. “Austin Robert,” you breathed, your heart galloping along harder and harder until you weren’t sure whether you’d survive the next thing the man before you would do. “Don’t full name me, I’m trying to give you your gift.” You nearly scoffed. “Sex is my -“ you paused, your breath hitching and your heart jumping inside you.
His lips had reached your center and he began moving his tongue teasingly. It was already too much for you and it had barely begun. “Oh,” you breathed quickly, hoping you didn’t come too quickly. You could feel the arousal pooling in your lower stomach and your hand instinctively moved there until his did and moved your own aside. Austin’s fingertips rubbed gently and he could almost swear he’d been able to feel you. He sat back for a moment to wiggle off his underwear and open a condom with his teeth before sliding it over himself. “God, you’re so hot,” you breathed, reaching up to pull off his shirt. Smooth skin. Abs that you could see if you looked for them but could mostly feel with your fingertips. And strong arms. “You look so good,” you breathed again. “You do too, baby love,” he murmured before leaning back down.
He kissed and kissed everywhere he possibly could. Your face, your neck, your arms, your chest, your stomach, that damned lower stomach area that he knew would drive you absolutely wild. “Ready for me?” Austin whispered against your ear. “Yes,” you confirmed and closed your eyes, moaning softly once he’d entered. Your hips began to move rhythmically - part of you sad that he’d chosen to wear the condom in the first place, but you knew it was smart to be responsible. You wanted to feel him in every inch of you and you could now. You could feel him in your toes, your legs, your abdomen, your chest, your head. You weren’t sure how your heart hadn’t managed to escape your chest by that point but it still beat furiously inside you.
His breathing was unsteady above you and you moved a hand to his chest, smiling to yourself as you felt the unstable rhythm of his own heartbeat through his skin and if you’d had your eyes opened, you probably could’ve viewed it too. “Pace yourself,” you thought to both yourself and Austin - but you didn’t dare say it. Didn’t want him to stop. Never, ever stop. “Baby, harder,” you instructed. He viewed you as this fragile being, you knew. But you weren’t fragile. You were wild, and horny and hungry for him - you had been for weeks and you were finally getting your fill, literally. Austin bucked his hips harder against yours, stifling a moan. You pressed your hand against his chest, feeling his pulse quicken somehow after going harder. “I’m going to come,” you finally murmured and you did - your eyes rolling back some into your head. Austin had too.
Which brings you back to the beginning. You’re both on the couch, his head is resting on your chest. “I love hearing your heart racing like this for me,” he murmurs drowsily. “My heart?” You asked with the smallest of giggles. “I felt yours during it. It was the most exhilarating and amazing thing I’ve ever felt, Aus.” Your fingers threaded through his blonde hair, that had become darker with sweat. He turned his head some to press a gentle kiss to your chest once or twice. “I’m pretty sure it’s yours,” Austin confirmed, lifting his head a little to look at you and to press another soft kiss to your lips. “Does that mean there’ll be a round two?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Mhm,” the blonde man murmured. “Always gonna be a round two for us,” Austin agreed.
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uvobreakmylegs · 2 years
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Chains and Flesh
part 2 of the slasher!Franklin story
Part 1
🎃Happy Halloween🎃
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Warnings: fem!reader, captivity, graphic depictions of violence, gore, death, smut, dubcon, spanking
Word count: 7.7k
How long you were kept down there you weren't sure. Your days started when you woke up and then ended when you fell into a fitful, uncomfortable sleep.
You were kept chained up like an animal at all times, and while the chain's moderate length meant you could get up and walk around a little, it became harder to do that as time passed, as your only form of nourishment were the bottles of water Franklin left for you. So while you remained alive, you were becoming weaker by the day, which forced you to stop moving around so much so you could conserve energy.
You sat chained up to that table near the door, slowly withering away while you waited for him to carry out whatever it was he'd planned for you.
But whenever Franklin would come in to continue his sick work, more often than not he didn't acknowledge you.
He'd walk by you, sometimes carrying a body that he'd hang on a newly emptied meat hook, other times leaving with the pieces he'd cut from one of the bodies within the room. You didn't know what he was doing with them. For your sake it was better not to know so you wouldn't need to speculate on what he'd do to your remains when you were dead. You didn't want to die knowing he'd turn your skin into a lampshade or eat the meat from your legs or anything like that.
Franklin was keeping quiet about it, and you'd rather it stay that way.
At one point you'd seen him walk by the open door carrying a spike strip like the one you'd run over, and only then did you realize that he was the one who had set that on the road, leaving out a trap to force you to go to him for help. You wondered how often that ploy worked.
Still, nothing else had really happened to you.
He kept you alive as his captive, but that was it. And usually he'd leave the bottled water next to you after you'd fallen asleep. Just enough to make sure you were kept alive.
And during the times when you were on your own in that room, waiting in the dark for him to return, all you thought of was how you could survive this.
Fighting him wasn't an option. By this point you were far too weak, and even if you had tried that on the first day you'd been brought here, it would've been nothing for him to overpower you. The odds of you having any sort of chance of being able to knock out or kill him were slim to none. Even if such an opportunity presented itself, it might not be the smartest choice to take it: you still had no clue where the key to the cuff was. If you managed to incapacitate him and didn't have the key, you were still stuck there. And depending on if you could kill him or not, you'd either starve to death after he had died, or he'd realize what you'd done after he woke back up and retaliate.
So no. Fighting was a bad plan.
But sitting around and waiting for him to be ready for whatever it was he wanted to do to you was equally bad. There were definitely a fair amount of victims that he'd killed, and you didn't want your name to be added to that list.
Without being able to fight him, and without any realistic way you could think of to escape without him knowing, you didn't have a lot of choices. The only thing you could think of was if you could somehow manage to connect with him in some way. That he might see you as another human being and form a friendship of sorts, just enough so he might feel badly about killing you.
But how do you even start up a conversation with someone like that? Especially when he was never interested in talking in the first place?
Your opportunity for that came one time when you'd been awake as he placed the water next to you as he was done for the day, taking out a ring of keys so he could lock up the room after.
Despite not having said anything since the day you were captured, you forced yourself to find your voice and say something.
“Thank you.”
Your words were mumbled and weren't very loud, but Franklin managed to hear you.
He stopped and looked back at you with a confused expression on his face.
It took you a moment to understand his reaction; of course it was weird that you would still be so polite to him. He'd drugged you and planned on cutting you up.
Still, this wasn’t a bad start, was it?
“..... You're an odd one,” he eventually said, “not one ounce of fight since I drugged you. Have you really accepted this so easily?”
You weren't sure what to say to that.
So you didn't say anything, instead looking down at the floor. Franklin walked out shortly after, turning out the light and sliding the door shut.
But his gaze was on you again as he did so, still looking at you strangely.
It must be some sort of achievement to have a serial killer tell you that you're weird.
You couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. And for all of your waiting for an opportunity to speak with him, this had seemed rather wasted since you only spoke two words to him.
Then again, it'd be weird if you wanted to chat with him, right? Something like that would make it far too obvious to him that you were trying to get close to him in order to save yourself.
Did he know what you were trying to do? Based on the way he looked at you, it didn't seem like it.
Maybe this chance to save yourself could work. As long as you didn't go too far in trying to talk to him. You remembered that he'd said you knew when to shut up when he'd been collecting your car; maybe that was already a point in your favor. Maybe as long as you stuck to your instincts and spoke whenever it felt safe, you might reach him.
Maybe.
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You heard a woman screaming.
That was what roused you from sleep and had you sitting up, fully alert as you looked towards the doorway.
The screams were coming closer, and you felt a lump form in your throat.
Had he gotten someone in the same way he'd gotten you? Set up that trap on the road so they would need to go to him for help?
But why would she be screaming? Unless she’d been smarter than you and didn't trust him when he had given her the drugged tea, and that had made him drag her down here by force.
You could hear the screaming almost right outside the sliding door, and you pushed yourself into your corner as far as you were able, wanting to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.
The door slid open and the lights were flipped on, and once your eyes adjusted, you got a look at Franklin's new victim.
A woman, as you had guessed. One with short hair wearing a pink top and who was currently in the arms of Franklin despite how much she struggled in his grip. She was trying to reach behind her so she could attack his head.
There was a disgruntled look on his face as he carried the woman inside, and he only seemed to get more annoyed as the woman fought for her life, alternating between trying to grab at anything that could be used as a weapon or hitting him in whatever spot she was able to reach.
“Fucking inbred hillbilly piece of shit!” she screamed, repeatedly slamming her fist against the hands that held her, “let me go!”
Franklin continued to march her over to where an empty meat hook hung.
But the sight of that only had her struggling harder and screaming louder, and she desperately thrashed in his grip, doing everything in her power to get away from him.
Meanwhile, all you could do was look on in horror.
You were going to see it.
You were going to see him kill someone.
It was a preview for what would eventually happen to you, and there was nothing you could do to stop any of it.
She continued to struggle when Franklin attempted to turn her around so he could pierce her in the back with the hook, but the way she moved about made him lose his grip slightly, so she ended up falling a bit before he caught her again.
With the new opportunity she was given, she reached out to one of the piercings at the end of his lobes-
And yanked it out.
It was enough to stun him as he instinctively grabbed at his bleeding ear, and the woman managed to slip out of his grip.
She ran past him to the center table, picking up the shears that had been left there and raising them over her head as she faced his back. She intended to stab him and made a move to do so as she brought her arms down.
He turned, slamming his arm into her and pushing her aside, causing the shears to scrape along his back before they fell to the floor.
The woman moved faster than either you or he expected, managing to turn and run towards the door while he reached out for her again, barely escaping his grasp.
She finally spotted you, her eyes growing wide when she saw the way you were cowering next to the table. She stopped before the door, grabbing at you so you could escape with her, only realizing after how you'd been chained up.
The time she'd spent on you was wasted, as Franklin had grabbed a meat hook and was coming after her again.
You both saw the glint of the hook, and you both looked to each other once more.
She threw you in front of him.
There was just enough chain that you managed to hit him, making him stumble over you as you fell to the ground and buying her just a bit more time. You thought you felt his foot connect with your head and your face hit the floor hard.
You heard Franklin swearing as he continued to chase the woman, and after hearing the way he charged down that hallway, you heard her screaming again, this time accompanied by Franklin grunting. Whatever he'd done to her, she was still alive as her screams still echoed in the hallway.
You managed to push yourself up slightly, using one hand to cup at your cheek. The taste of iron in your mouth was obvious, though how exactly you'd managed to get cut from that was unclear.
Then Franklin came back, walking forward and stepping over you while you knelt down, a hand over your head to protect yourself just in case his shoe came into contact with you again. He didn't seem to notice you, and once he was past you, you scrambled back towards the table you were chained to, again trying to make yourself as small as possible.
A glance out the door showed you what had happened to the woman: she was still alive, groaning as she used her hands to pull herself forward down the hall, the meat hook having been impaled in her leg. The way her leg looked made it seem like he'd dragged her by the hook for a bit before he'd come back to get different weapon.
The weapon turned out to be a hammer, as he removed it from the wall and gauged its weight in his hand.
With his back turned towards you, you saw that the woman had managed to injure him when she'd attacked him with the shears as there was a line that ran across his back, the wound deep enough that his shirt was soaking up blood. You hadn't even realized that attack of hers had been partially successful.
Meanwhile, Franklin seemed satisfied with his selection of the hammer.
But when he turned, he caught sight of you.
And he froze.
Franklin stared at you wordlessly with hammer in hand while you felt a line of blood drip from the corner of your mouth. His expression was level, yet there was an intensity in his eyes that you weren't expecting.
Why it was currently being directed at you, you had no idea.
Nor did you have any idea as to why he suddenly put the hammer back in place on the wall and grabbed a different tool.
The chainsaw.
You sat in silence as he pulled it off the wall. He inspected it briefly before making up his mind, holding the tool with both hands as he headed back out into the hall.
He was really going to use that on her.
While she was still alive.
Why?
Was the hammer too merciful? Because if he hit her in just the right way, she'd be dead in an instant? Was it because of the amount of trouble she had given him that made him want to prolong her suffering? How long would he drag it out for?
And how were you going to get through this?
With no one there to hold you and assure you that everything would be alright, you found yourself wrapping your arms around the leg of the table that you had been chained to, holding onto it as though it were a lifeline while you watched the scene that was unfolding in the hall.
You shouldn't be looking. You knew that you shouldn't be looking, but something compelled you to keep your eyes on what was happening. Even though she had tried to use you so she could get away, something within you felt obligated to witness her last moments.
She was sobbing now, having looked behind and seeing Franklin with the chainsaw while she tried to crawl away. He stood above her, putting his foot on her injured leg and keeping her in place, which caused her to cry out louder. There weren't any attempts to attack him this time, only the way she desperately grabbed at the floor in front of her, still trying to claw her way to freedom.
Franklin revved the chainsaw.
That sparked new terror in her, and she began to beg for her life while she tried to shield her head with one of her arms.
That arm was what went first as the chainsaw cut into the meat and bone.
Within a few moments it was laying on the floor next to her head, her fingers still twitching while she screamed at the loss of her arm as she looked at the bloody stump. Franklin continued his work, taking the chainsaw to the other arm and repeating the action.
Her death couldn't have lasted all that long. People aren't built to survive having a chainsaw being cut into them repeatedly. In all likelihood she died after losing the second arm, either from the blood loss or the shock. Yet when he began to carve into the meat of her back, you swore you could still hear her screaming as the blood gushed out of her and sprayed onto him.
The chainsaw echoed alongside those screams within the confines of the hall, ripping up her body and flinging blood and bits of flesh and muscle everywhere, splattering onto the floor, walls and ceiling.
However long those moments truly lasted, it felt like an eternity to you as you sat there and watched as the hall began to fill up with blood, a puddle that expanded around the two of them, growing larger and traveling in the direction of the room you were in.
She was dead by this point. No person could survive losing that much blood.
But you swore you could still hear her voice.
Her screams finally stopped in your ears when Franklin stopped, turning off the chainsaw as he breathed heavily, looking down at what he had reduced that woman to. You were trying not to look at her, instead keeping your gaze on his back, your eyes naturally going to the wound that was still bleeding. His shoulders sank a little, likely in part because of the weight of the chainsaw that he still held. His breathing became a bit more controlled the longer he stood like that, until eventually he seemed to steel himself.
Had he lost control of himself? Was that not normal for him to do?
Those questions left your mind when he turned back to you and you were confronted with a new sight:
Franklin being absolutely covered in blood.
Those usual protections he wore for his face hadn't been there, so the blood dripped down his face, going as far as to run down his neck and end up beneath his shirt. He looked even more so like the deranged serial killer that he was, a madman who murdered anyone he came across and chopped up the bodies after as though they weren't even human.
With heavy footsteps, he returned to the room, a trail of bloody footprints following him in as he stepped in that pool of her blood. He didn't bother to look at you that time, only focusing on placing the bloodied chainsaw on that center table before turning around and leaving again, going somewhere out of sight.
The once glance you spared for the woman's body was brief, only lasting long enough for you to see just how much blood covered her and the open wounds on her back. There was more, but you tore your gaze away, holding onto the table leg again as you willed yourself not to look at her again. You didn't want the fine details of what a chainsaw could do to a person who had been alive, how easily the bones would've been broken apart or how much of a person would end up looking like dog food.
In keeping your eyes from looking at her, your gaze naturally went to the chainsaw. It was still dripping with her blood, the red falling from the blade and onto the table before it dripped off the edge of the table, going along with the slope of the floor and heading towards the grates.
It was a grim sight, but you found you'd rather look at that then look at her any longer.
Eventually Franklin returned. Apparently he'd gone to wash up as a majority of the blood from his face and hands were gone, though there were still smears of red on his skin.
His focus still wasn't on you as he went about cleaning up the chainsaw, walking it to the other end of the room while he removed the chain before he began to wipe it down with a damp towel.
With his back turned towards you once again, you saw that wound again. The bloodstain had only gotten bigger, but he didn't seem bothered.
…. Unless he didn't know he'd gotten injured?
Would he have missed that? Perhaps, with all that had happened when she had tried to get away.
Should you mention it?
That thought sparked a memory: a coworker at one of your old jobs had managed to cut her side on one of the tables at your workplace and hadn't noticed it. You had, but you didn't say anything as you had assumed she was aware of it. The next day she found out you had seen that but hadn't said anything and had berated you for it.
Franklin was a lot more deadly than your old coworker. If he found out that you knew he'd had an injury and you didn't say anything, that might be enough to get him upset with you.
Getting this man upset with you was the last thing you needed right now.
“You're bleeding.”
At the sound of your voice, he paused. Glancing back at you, his eyebrows were furrowed. Not sure if he hadn't heard you clearly, you spoke again.
“You're bleeding.”
This time you pointed at his back in an effort to show him the spot where the injury was.
He stared at you for a moment. Then you watched as he reached for the area you'd pointed to, and when he pulled back his hand to find the fresh blood that continued to soak through the material of his shirt was now on his fingers, he let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a grunt and a sigh.
He didn't say anything to you. After he finished cleaning the chainsaw, he left again.
The lights were still on and he hadn't moved the body in the hall. You weren't sure what was happening, if he'd be back or if he was done for now and would take care of the mess the next day. Hopefully not. Hopefully he'd at least come back to close the door so you didn't need to run the risk of seeing that woman's body when you woke up.
Franklin did end up coming back, and you kept your eyes averted as you heard him coming closer.
You jumped when he tossed a first-aid kit in front of you, the way the box appeared so suddenly and clattering against the floor so loudly startling you. When you looked back up to him, you found that he wasn't wearing his shirt.
He glanced at the first-aid kit before looking back at you, a small frown on his face.
“I can't reach the wound on my back,” he said to you, “so I need you to patch it up.”
“.... Okay.”
Franklin sat down in front of you and glanced back on occasion so he could keep an eye on you while you opened up the kit. Luckily for you, the wound on his back wasn't very deep. A relief, as it saved you from needing to go through the experience of needing to stitch him up.
Clean the wound. Disinfect the wound. Bandage it up. All steps were completed with shaking hands as every time you needed to touch his skin, you were convinced that you were going to do something that would upset him and he'd retaliate. And now that you'd seen what happened when someone managed to upset him, your imagination was even more vivid with what he might do to you. It was worst when you were disinfecting the wound, as he let out low noises whenever his wound would sting from the disinfectant.
All he needed to do was reach a hand back and smack you if you upset him too much. And it'd only take a few moments more for him to do something worse.
You scooted away from him when you were finished, signaling that you were done while also trying to put more distance between the two of you.
For some reason, he didn't get up to leave. While he turned around so he faced you again, Franklin stayed where he was, sitting on the floor of his butcher room while the woman's body stayed in the hall.
He was looking at you.
…. Was this good or bad?
“You had a chance to kill me,” he eventually said.
“What?”
He pointed to the kit, saying “there's a small pair of scissors in there. If you'd aimed them right, you could've killed me by stabbing them into my jugular.”
“Why didn't you do that?” he asked.
…... You weren't sure where this was going, or what the best way was to approach this. He hadn't said much of anything to you since meeting you that first time, and now the man was asking why you hadn't tried murdering him when given the chance.
It was mostly because you hadn't been thinking of it. After witnessing him murder that woman and seeing him covered in blood, terror had driven you to do as he said. You only mentioned the back wound because you were afraid he would be upset that you hadn't said anything, and you only did as he said in regards to bandaging him because a refusal seemed like certain death for you.
The certain death that was still visible from the corner of your eye.
“I don't..... I don't know that I could do that,” you whispered.
His eyebrows furrowed.
“Not even to the man who's been keeping you down here?” he asked.
After a moment, you shook your head.
Franklin was quiet, and you were wondering if your response was a bad one. Maybe all you had done was reaffirm whatever view he had of you in his head and he'd end this night by finally killing you off. Maybe every action you'd taken in staying quiet and out of his way in the hopes that he might have more sympathy for you had backfired and he only determined that someone as useless and pathetic as you deserved an awful death. Someone who was so controlled by fear that she didn't even notice an obvious escape from this situation, where he had been somewhat vulnerable for the first time since you'd met him.
The two of you sat in silence as the lights on the ceiling hummed above you.
Then he moved.
Getting back to his feet, Franklin collected the first-aid kit before he returned to the doorway. Flicking the light switch, he turned as he closed the door, and once again his eyes were on you.
This time there was a pensive look in his eyes.
And then you were shrouded in darkness once again as the door slid shut.
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You awoke when something soft was thrown on top of you, and after a brief moment of panic, you found that he'd given you a blanket, tossing it on top of you as he went back to his work.
You thanked him as you wrapped it around yourself, grateful for the feeling of being covered after being exposed for so long. It hardly made sleeping on the surface of the floor any easier, but the soft material was a comfort to you.
He didn't say anything after you thanked him, and that day you spent your time focused on the blanket, keeping your eyes averted from what he was doing.
You chose to take the blanket as being a good sign. If he didn't like you, he wouldn't have bothered with anything like that. So him making an effort to make you feel a little bit more comfortable down there must've meant that he didn't dislike you. Maybe if you got a chance to talk to him a little more, you might get him to let you go. If you promised that you wouldn't say anything about him or what you'd seen him do, maybe he'd drop you off somewhere and let you find your way back to civilization. A long shot, but now one that seemed somewhat possible.
Unfortunately he didn't seem interested in talking to you.
And you found that more often than not, he would spend a significant amount of time staring at you. Sometimes just after he'd come in, sometimes when he was in the middle of cutting up a body. The awful noises you would hear would stop suddenly and you'd look over to see him watching you.
Having no clue what to make of that, you determined that it was better to stay quiet.
There was still a meat hook that remained empty. No need to make him decide to put you up there if he was reconsidering it.
Some time had passed since the incident with that woman had happened. You still had no true sense of how much time had gone by, but you were able to note when the hastily cleaned bloodstains in the hallway were becoming more faded.
And then the day came when Franklin finally decided to do something with you.
There hadn’t been anything odd about his behavior beforehand, nothing he had said or done that seemed out of place.
The only warning you got was the way the metal door screeched as it was flung open, startling you. You sat up to see Franklin standing in the doorway. He was staring right at you, and when your eyes met his, his jaw clenched and he walked towards you, pulling out a key from his pocket.
It was for the cuff around your ankle, as he knelt down in front of you and roughly yanked your leg towards him, slipping the key into the lock and opening the cuff.
Then he grabbed you by the arm and hauled you up.
The blanket that you'd wrapped around yourself fell to the floor, and when he began to lead you out of your small corner, you looked to where he was taking you:
The large table at the center of the room.
….. Oh god.
He forced you face first onto the table, your upper half resting against the metal while your lower half hung off the edge.
Oh god oh god oh god
He was finally gonna do it.
He was going to kill you. Cut you up into tiny pieces, save whatever parts of you he thought were good and then toss out whatever he felt was useless.
You were going to die.
That thought seemed to be confirmed when you felt him undo the clasp of your bra, pushing the straps out of the way so he had full access to the skin of your back. Calloused hands ran over your flesh, lightly squeezing certain areas before they went back to roaming all over.
You were shaking now, tears forming in your eyes as that giant cleaver was in your direct line of sight. It was easily within reaching distance for him. Any moment now he could grab it and start hacking away at you, and all you could hope for was that he would hit you in a way that ensured you would die quickly. You didn't want to live through the feeling of having your limbs chopped off or being slowly cut in half; if there was really no way out of this, then you just wanted it to be fast.
His hands had moved further down, feeling your waist before gliding over your panties.
Then he grabbed the elastic band and forced the thin fabric down to your thighs.
Warmth filled your cheeks at the humiliating action, making you press your face against the surface of the table in embarrassment.
He was going to go for the cleaver now, right? Begin the process of cutting you up, maybe alternate between the cleaver and the chainsaw.
Oh god..... Please don't let him stick me on the hook......
Soft whimpers were now coming from your mouth, ones that you couldn't contain no matter how hard you tried. He was going to hurt you, put you through total agony before he would eventually kill you. What your crime was you'd likely never know, but he would carry out your punishment regardless and keep you alive until he decided that it was time for you to die.
Please be fast, you begged silently.
Then there was a hand on your head. The same fingers that had been feeling up your flesh were now stroking your hair, petting you softly.
Almost like he was trying to comfort you.
You didn't have the time to realize how wrong that thought felt given all that Franklin had done to you.
Because there were fingers prodding at your entrance, pushing apart your pussy lips before one digit pushed itself inside of you.
A gasp was forced from your throat, both from discomfort as you weren't wet in the slightest and from shock as you finally realized what his intentions were.
….. Why?
After keeping you around for all this time, what made him decide to do this?
And was he still going to kill you after?
With the finger still prodding inside of you, you slowly turned your head to look back at him. His gaze was locked onto your cunt as he forced his finger in and out in an effort to get you ready for him, something that wasn't going as well as he'd hoped based on the way he was frowning.
…. Would he still fuck you if he couldn't get you loose enough? Or would he give up on it and decide to kill you?
Maybe.... Maybe if you went along with this, he might spare you. It meant swallowing the little pride that you had left, but so far you'd been allowed to live because you hadn't fought him, right? If you went along with what he wanted, then he really might let you go after.
It was worth a shot.
Franklin stopped what he was doing when he saw you begin to lower your hand down to your cunt, and from your peripheral vision, you saw that his eyes had narrowed. Yet he didn't do anything to stop you, curious as to what you were doing.
When you brought your fingers down to your clit and began to rub at the small bundle of nerves in an effort to lubricate yourself further, you didn't catch any change in him. No sharp intake of breath or laughter directed at you; he just watched wordlessly.
Then his fingers returned to your folds, pushing two of them in this time while his other hand left your head in favor of slipping beneath you so he could fondle your breasts. You let out a whimper, but you kept your focus on the fingers you had at your clit.
But while you were beginning to make noises, Franklin had yet to say anything or even show any signs that he was enjoying this. When you glanced back to him again, you couldn't read anything from his expression. Were it not for the fact that he was the one shoving his fingers into you, you wouldn't have thought that he wanted this at all.
Was he just playing with you? Was this some sort of sick joke, to see just how desperate you were for him to spare you before he really did go and kill you?
His eyes met yours then, and out of habit you made yourself look away.
You wanted to avoid him seeing you cry when he taunted you, if possible.
The hand he had at your chest moved to your back, pressing you down onto the cold surface of the metal. And as he did that, he removed the fingers from your cunt.
For a moment you thought that your fears were correct and you really were just being toyed with. Then a sharp pain that hit your ass made you cry out.
Franklin brought his hand back to the now-sore spot where he had hit you, and you heard him let out a low hum.
He brought his hand back down a few more times after that, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in the room while you cried out every time his hand connected. It ended with your ass feeling bruised and sore. When you glanced back again, you saw a small smirk on his lips.
Ah..... That was the sort of thing he liked, was it?
That was confirmed when you felt his dick prodding at your leg through the fabric of his pants and apron.
He smacked you a few more times before returning his attention to your pussy, focusing again on loosening you up while you felt his cock get harder. That single finger of his fit in a bit more easily, and not long after he inserted a second one.
Though you felt you were reaching your limit when he tried to stuff in a third. You cried out, your fingers that were on your clit stopping their movements.
You couldn't do this.
He hummed.
And to your ear, it sounded like he was disappointed.
When he removed his fingers once again, you began to panic. You'd ruined it. Your one chance to escape certain death and you blew it.
“I'm sorry,” you began, tears falling as you continued with “I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm s-orry-!”
A hand rested on your head again while he hushed you. You shut your mouth, waiting to see what would happen next as you once again glanced back.
Franklin was undoing the ties of his apron, pulling the thing over his head before he grabbed you, lifting you up with one hand while he set the apron down where you had been laying. He placed you down on top of it, this time on your back so you could clearly see what he was doing.
There was little time wasted in the way he undid his belt and pulled out his cock, and even less time wasted in how he positioned himself between your legs, the tip brushing against your pussy lips as he moved in close.
With both hands on your hips, he shoved in.
Despite the efforts made by both you and him, it still hurt when he entered you, making you throw your head back while a cry escaped your lips.
Evidently it wasn't important to comfort you now as he ignored your cry of pain and began to thrust in and out. The hands on your hips kept you in place while he did what he wanted and his gaze stayed on the sight of his dick being swallowed by your cunt.
The first minute or so was painful, though the longer he went, the less pain you felt. Still, you wanted to lessen the pain further, so you again slid a hand down to your clit to find some relief.
He smacked your hand away.
He'd hit you with enough force that it hurt, and when you looked up at him with a confused expression on your face, you saw he was looking at you. He was still trying to keep his own expression level, but you could now see a slight flush to his face.
When your eyes met he smirked.
Franklin moved one of his hands slightly, repositioning so that he was still holding you down, but now his thumb was able to reach your clit.
He began to rub at the bundle of nerves, the way that his calloused, rough skin of his thumb harshly moved against you making you cry out again. You tried to find something to hold onto and ended up holding onto one of the straps of his apron when you couldn't find anything else.
His cock pushing into you started to feel better, something that was evident when your cries began to sound more like cries of pleasure. He pulled one hand away from your hip so he could use it to lean over you. Franklin's eyes went from your gasping mouth to your breasts that moved with every thrust and then to your stretched out cunt.
And when his eyes met yours again he reached out to cup your cheek.
The action felt almost loving. Just like when he'd placed a hand on your head to calm you.
This wasn't so bad.
Karma came instantly for a thought like that as you were forced to remember something important:
Franklin killed people.
He brutalized his victims when they were alive and then desecrated their bodies in death. A man who had likely been killing people for years was fucking you and there was no guarantee that you would live long after he was finished. The assortment of tools at his disposal were in that room with you, and all he needed to do after he was done was grab one and end you, and you would no doubt join those poor people on the hooks.
You didn't want to die.
So when his hand began to pull away from you, you grabbed it, your fingers brushing against his scarred skin as you brought it up to your lips, placing a kiss on his palm.
He stopped moving.
Panic filled you quickly as you feared you had messed up.
Then his hand pulled away from your grasp in order to grab you by the back of your head before Franklin forced his lips onto yours.
He was kissing you.
After the few seconds it took you to realize that, you made yourself kiss him back, going as far as to wrap your arms around his neck to try and pull him in closer, though as he was far stronger than you, you only managed to pull yourself up slightly.
Those dead people on the hooks had been next to you the entire time, and what they would have thought of you popped into your mind. If they would've understood your desperation to survive or if they would've felt choosing death was less pathetic than what you were doing now.
Franklin pulled away. His breathing was harsher now. And when he began to move again, his hips snapped against yours faster.
He came moments later, pushing himself against you while a deep groan rumbled through his chest. The feeling of the wet warmth that filled you made you whimper, and again you pulled yourself against him, burying your face against his shoulder.
The hand at the back of your head began stroking your hair again, once more in that comforting manner.
Don't kill me don't kill me don't kill me
Then he pulled your arms off of him, placing you back down onto the table while he stood back up. You whimpered when he pulled out and you felt his cum dripping out of you.
He chuckled.
“I'll keep you,” he said.
That got your attention, and you looked back up to him as he continued.
“You'll stay here with me. I'll continue as I have been with other stragglers that come this way while I keep you safe.”
….. He was the only one you needed to be kept safe from. But you held your tongue.
His hand went to rest on your stomach, fingers trailing over your flesh as he spoke again.
“I don't think you'd be able to help me with what I do,” he said, “so you'll stay upstairs and wait for me to come back up to you. Maybe when I can trust you, I'll let you go outside on occasion.”
Was staying here with him for the rest of you life worth it? Being trapped with him while he dragged down more unsuspecting people and killed them while you stood idly by?
His fingers stopped moving, and when you looked up to him again, there was a serious expression on his face.
“If you try to run, I won't show you any mercy,” Franklin said.
“..... I-I won't run. Promise,” you breathed.
“Good.”
He flipped you over, and you were surprised when you felt his cock brush against your pussy again. He'd gotten hard again that fast?
His pace was rough when he pushed inside again and you moaned. That earned you another soft touch to your hair which you leaned into, something he liked based on the way he hummed.
You caught sight of those bodies, however, your head facing in their direction as the pieces that still had eyes stared at you.
You turned your head away, clutching at the apron beneath you while you made yourself focus on Franklin.
This wasn't what you wanted. You wanted him to let you go, not fall in love with you.
But what the hell were you going to do about it now?
There was no telling how much time had passed by the time he was done with you, finally pulling away and readjusting himself while you laid on the table feeling sore and exhausted. His multiple releases and a few of your own were leaking out of your pussy and dripping down your thighs, and you cringed a little at the thought of how used you felt.
That's something you'll need to get used to, you thought to yourself. At least you'll be alive.
Franklin was gentle when he picked you up. Your head rested against his chest as he walked towards the door. Finally, you were leaving that room. Hopefully you'd never need to enter it again.
Hopefully he'd never feel the need to put you in there again.
The hallway was still stained with the blood of the woman he'd killed before, and as he walked you up the stairs, you noticed scratch marks in the walls. Like someone had dragged their nails along the walls in a desperate bid to keep themselves from being taken down there.
Don't think about it.
As you were brought up onto the ground floor of the house, you found that it was evening, and a glance through the windows you passed by showed you that there was still light out as the sun was setting.
You saw something else out there.
The junkyard you had seen on that very first day at the back of the house.
What caught your attention first was the wheelchair simply because it seemed out of place among the junked cars – maybe Franklin had meant to toss it and forgot.
And then your eyes were drawn to something that stood behind it.
Your car. The one you'd been driving when you hit the spike strip and crashed. That Franklin had brought back to his house saying that he could fix it.
Your car sitting within a sea of other vehicles that were in similar condition.
….. Don't think about the numbers. Don't think about any of it.
At least you're still alive.
Your hand went to clutch at Franklin's shirt while you pressed your face against his chest. You sensed him glancing down at you as he continued taking you to what you assumed would be a bedroom.
“We'll get you cleaned up and then sleep,” Franklin told you, “I'll give you a little something to eat in the morning so we can get you back to the point that you can eat meals again.”
You nodded.
At least you're still alive, you repeated once more.
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Yandere Leona Kingscholar x Little Brother Reader headcanons/short story(?)
Okay, I have actually two ideas for this one. Let's hope that I can make this understandable and well written.
Warnings: Yandere and probably OOC again. I'm not certain. Plus this ended up longer because of my ideas. Apologies.
Leona Kingscholar
There are two ways that being the little brother of Leona can go and it depends on your personality.
A: if your personality matches his own or B: if your personality is more like Cheka/Falena (I looked this up and was shocked. His name is with an l, not an r).
Let's start with situation A.
When you were younger, like Leona, you weren't given much positive attention.
Normally what would happen during your infant years, nobody would come to tend to you. You would be thirsty, hungry and dirty for hours before your crying got onto people's nerves that they would give you what you wanted.
This led to you being a lot more irritable and naturally more aggressive towards others. Especially when your teen years hit.
You've become more brutish, people are naturally afraid of you and in all honesty, you don't really care.
You might be at the bottom of the family line but you're given respect by the strength that you display.
Despite you being four years younger than Leona, there have been multiple times where you were able to fight against Falena and Leona together and ended up winning the fight.
There have been whispers going around the palace that your parents were planning to appoint you general of a fleet in the army.
Your magic was also nothing to turn a blind eye to.
"Survival of the Fittest" drains the energy of your opponent(s), leaving a heaving, weak mess on the floor. It takes about two hours before you can use it again but if it's carefully timed, it can be a game changer.
But that's enough backstory, now, when you get to NRC, you're immediately put into Savanaclaw with your brother as your dorm leader.
"Great, I'm stuck with you. Make sure you don't drag down the dorm with you."
"I wasn't planning on it. I'm not you after all."
Yeah, your relationship with your brothers has always been quite strained, considering how much raw talent you truly had.
Your time at NRC was pretty decent. You actually were able to make friends who weren't completely scared of you. That might have been for the fact that they had no idea who you truly were.
"Yo! (Y/N)! Over here!"
I turned my head to see Ace, Deuce, Yuu and Grim sitting by an apple tree. Ace was waving like a mad man trying to get my attention. I felt a slight smile appear on my face while I jogged over.
"Hey. What's going on?"
"We're trying to figure out all of the weird happenings with the injuries. They don't appear to be normal" Yuu said, their face in their hands.
"Hmm, not normal accidents? Who have been the targets so far?"
"Mostly people that have a high chance of being good in the Spelldrive tournament."
"Which dorms?"
"All of them. Well, except for Savanaclaw and Diasomnia it seems."
I gave it some thought before a terrifying thought crossed my mind. I remember Leona casually mentioning a certain hyena's unique magic.
"Ruggie Bucchi."
"Hah!?"
"What?!"
"Pardon me?"
"Ruggie Bucchi. Second year member of Savanaclaw. He is the person that you should inspect."
The trio looked at themselves before giving me a smile.
"Thanks for the help, (Y/N)! We owe you one! Now, let's go get Dorm leader Rosehearts and catch this punk!"
"Not a problem."
The trio then ran away from you to go check out where Ruggie was.
You personally couldn't believe how low your brother sunk. Cheating by injuring others just to win at Spelldrive. You needed to have a talk with him.
Making your way to the botanical garden, knowing that Leona was most likely sleeping there.
You searched for him. You didn't find his body but you did find his tail.
You yanked his tail as hard as you could, effectively waking him up.
"You've got a death wish, do you know that?"
"Yeah, I've had a death wish since I was born. Now, you and I are going to have a talk about your cheating."
"What 'cheating'?"
Leona put air quotes around cheating, taunting you with a smirk. He always like to play dumb with you.
"You're sending Ruggie out to harm those who might pose a threat to Savanaclaw winning the Spelldrive tournament."
"Oh yeah? What proof do you have of us doing that?"
"It's called growing up with you. You've always cheated your way to things when you realized that nobody cares how much effort you put in."
Leona's smirk fell. He seems to forget that I've lived with him for years. Next thing that I knew, we were fighting once again, crushing plants and ruining projects.
"You're too self righteous for a first year, (Y/N)."
"And you're too selfish to be a decent dorm leader."
I successfully kicked him off of me, sending him flying against one of the plant walls, getting to my feet.
"Your desire to win will be your downfall, brother. You-"
I felt something hit my head before falling unconscious. How did I let someone sneak up on me?
When you came to, you were back in your dorm room.
Your dorm mates were there as well but they seemed to be more on edge and aggressive towards you.
They forced you down on the bed, telling you that you were under room arrest until the Spelldrive tournament was over.
Of course, you started kicking and punching to get to your door, to prevent something awful from happening but sadly, you can only do so much when you're without your mage stone.
So, you waited under dorm arrest until the tournament was over.
When night fell, your dorm mates came back looking as if they were kicked puppies and you asked teasingly how it went.
They talked about everything: Leona's overblot, all of the dorms' rage and how Diasomnia thoroughly kicked our butts.
They also didn't complain when you left your room to go find Leona. But you also weren't expecting to run into Cheka either.
"Unca (Y/N)!"
Cheka ran up to me and jumped into my arms and I gave him a little spin.
"Hey there, kiddo. Where's your father?"
"He's talking with Unca Leona right now! He also gave me permission to run around the building!"
"Ah, is that why you're without your retainers right now? You, my dear nephew, are going to be in so much trouble."
"Hehehehe~! I don't care!"
Cheka, the sunshine child, can lift anybody's mood. I quickly picked him up and put him on top of my shoulders.
"Let's go for a little run around Savanaclaw. Does that sound like fun?"
"Yeah!"
After about two hours of running around Savanclaw, Falena and Leona found both of you playing on the outdoor gym equipment.
Falena said his hellos before collecting his son and leaving Savanaclaw. Cheka gave his goodbye kisses before leaving you and Leona outside alone.
"Were you going to tell me what happened?"
Leona just stayed silent, not wanting to admit his failure.
"Ever the prideful one, aren't you, Leona? You don't have to share the story, my dorm mates already told me everything."
"Those cowards..."
I kept staring at Leona in amusement until he looked over at me. He seemed to have... regrets? I've never seen him look so regretful before.
"Well, you seemed to be tormenting yourself over it enough. I won't put more salt into your wound. Good night, Leona."
I started to make my way back to my dorm before Leona grabbed my wrist out of nowhere. I stopped in my tracks, trying to figure out what Leona wanted.
"Why are you happy?"
"Huh? Repeat that please?"
"I said, why are you happy!? You've been treated worse than I have in my life and yet, you seemed to be more or less satisfied with what you've been given! So, why!?"
Leona had some tears pricking his eyes which really threw me off. Regret looked weird enough, now, he's close to crying.
"I-I don't know! Maybe because I'm not trying to chase a fantasy!"
"I'm not chasing a fantasy!"
"Yes, you are! You've been chasing a fantasy the moment you've been born! You can't be king, Leona!"
Leona just froze when I yelled that out. I started to regret shouting that. Nobody has really just told him upfront that he can't do something. Normally, people beat around the bush and that was it. I could see the anger welling up in Leona. My nerves started setting alarms off. He just had an overblot. He's already had an emotional outburst, what would happen if I pushed too hard again?
Leona only tightened his grip around my wrist and I felt my bones start to bend. I immediately tried to get my wrist free but I wasn't succeeding. The bone snapped and I let out a yelp of pain. I wasn't used to this.
"If I can't be happy, then you can't be happy either."
Once again, I felt my world go black. What is with me and getting knocked out easily!?
When you came back again, you thought that you were going to be back in your dorm but instead, you were in a room that you weren't familiar with.
You could tell that you were back home in the Sunset Savana but where exactly? You couldn't tell.
The room was pretty small. The bed takes up a corner of the room and there is a desk, a dresser and two doors.
Getting up, you check the desk to find writing utensils and books. The dresser had your clothes in it. The first door was locked, which you guessed was the exit because the other door led to the bathroom.
Going back to the first door, you tried to break it down but you learned quickly that it was metal that only looked like wood. The painters did a good job.
Deciding that the best option was to wait for Leona to come and let you out. You didn't realize how long it would feel like. Without a clock and no real forms of entertainment, you had no idea how long you've been in the room for.
Finally, after what felt like ages, Leona came through the door and you immediately started asking and demanding things from him. Mostly answers.
He answered nothing. Just telling you that this would be where you live for the rest of your life and that you should be grateful for it. You just rolled your eyes.
Leona had to be joking. You knew that he had to be joking. Heck, he even had rules for this. That's how much he planned this awful joke.
You tried to get up and get past Leona to go through the door when you felt a searing pain in your neck.
Leona then dragged you back to the bed, letting you recover from the pain.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!"
"Obviously, you weren't listening to me when I told you you can't leave."
"WELL, YEAH! LOCKING YOUR BROTHER UP IS JUST INSANE!"
"Then let me make this clearer, you're going to listen to me because you're my little brother."
"You're actually insane. I should've known the moment that you started tearing up."
"If I'm insane, I'm going to drag you down with me."
And that's where I'm going to leave that half. I honestly might write better stories for the brothers but for now, short stories!
Now, onto part B if you're still here after that mess:
Your upbringing is very similar to part A as in you were neglected but instead of being angry about it, you found solace elsewhere.
Despite being a lion beast man, you felt no need to actually hunt or just attack in general.
You were very kind, even to those who were mean and snickered mean words behind your back.
Thanks to your helpful nature and overall kindness, you quickly became the staff's favorite prince and since you couldn't stand the suffering of others, you used the riches that were given at birth to help those who are less fortunate.
You were an icon to those who grew up in the slums of the Sunset Savana.
Falena was proud of you while Leona resented you for your nature.
You tried many times to improve Leona's life by giving him a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen but he wanted nothing to do with you.
Now, you might be thinking that you're going to go to RSA. That's actually not the case. You were invited to go to NRC because of your unique magic.
While most unique magics fit the owner, yours was close to the opposite.
"Obey Me" would force whoever you had in your sights to obey your every word. (It's sort of like Snake Whisper but for the fact that nobody can dodge it unless they are out of your sight.) Magic coils around your arms and drains at a decent pace, telling you how much time you have left and if you use all of your magic on it, you end up K.O.ing yourself.
You were quite nervous for your first day at NRC. You stepped up to the mirror and it told you that you belong to Octavinelle.
"Welcome! We're happy to have you join our dorm!" Azul Ashengrotto, your new dorm leader, said, spreading his arms open.
"Pleasure to be a part of it."
"Ehhh~ You're supposed to be with us~? How weird~"
"Hehehehe, I'm certain that you'll spice our dorm up no problem, (Y/N)."
I took a deep breath and quickly swallowed the ever growing ball of saliva that was growing in the back of my throat. The looks of the dorm leader and these twins were putting me on edge.
I turned my head to look at my brother just to see him trying to fall asleep in his chair. Ah, Leona, will you ever change?
Octavinelle was actually a decent choice for you!
You may not have agreed with how Azul chose to handle his 'benevolence' but he didn't stop you from showing yours.
You were quickly declared an Octavinelle treasure by the dorm members for the fact that you were always willing to help and sacrifice anything, just to make another's life easier.
It wasn't as if you were hurting from it either. You knew how to balance your life from the time that you started to help those who were less unfortunate than yourself.
Being a part of Octavinelle also didn't stop you from going over to Savanaclaw (Much to Azul's dismay) to see your brother.
You and Ruggie became close friends due to the fact that you were actually someone who Ruggie has looked up to for the past few years of his life and also with the fact that you're willing to help him wrangle Leona when he refuses to go to class.
"Thanks again for helping me find Leona again, (Y/N). He's actually starting to put effort into finding hiding places around campus."
"It's not a problem, Ruggie. He's probably doing it so that he doesn't have to deal with me nagging him over and over again to go to class."
"Yeah, LEONA! WHERE ARE YOU?!"
"LEONA! YOU'RE NEEDED!"
Ruggie and I ended up finding Leona in one of the pockets that were in Heartslabyul's rose maze.
"How did Riddle let him in?"
"Bold of you to assume that he asked permission."
I moved towards Leona after picking a rose from the nearest bush. I held it close to his nose and started lightly shaking it.
Leona's nose started to twitch and eventually, he had an explosive sneeze which woke him up. He looked at Ruggie and I before he tackled me to the ground.
"You have a lot of guts to wake me up in such a way."
"Well, I needed to get creative considering you have class and also with the fact that you said and I quote, "If you touch me to wake me up again, you'll lose your arms"."
Leona's glare sharpened and his grip on my arms tightened to the point where bruises were going to form. After about ten seconds of a stare down, Leona loosened up before just collapsing down onto me.
"Leona, what are you doing?"
"Shut up. For waking me up in that manner, you're now my pillow for the rest of the day."
"Leona, you have class."
"Shut it."
"He's in one of his moods again. Ruggie, you can go. He won't be getting up now."
"Are you sure, (Y/N)?"
"Yeah, I'll watch over him."
"Didn't I tell both of you to shut it?"
Ruggie then closed his mouth before running off into the maze once again. I lightly waved at him before directing my attention back to my brother. Leona, you're always going to be a handful, aren't you?
Thankfully, being Leona's pillow wasn't much of a punishment to you anymore. He used to do it when you were smaller and in a bad mood.
You made sure to see Leona at least once a day to make sure that he wasn't causing too much trouble for Ruggie or just to make sure that he was doing okay.
But life got horribly in the way for one week. Azul needed a server to work certain hours for an entire week and you were the only person whose classes didn't clash with that schedule. Azul was very close to begging you to take the position, promising you plenty of things that you didn't need.
"Please, (Y/N)! There is no telling what will happen to the Mostro Lounge! I'll give you plenty of pay, study guides, anything!"
Azul was really panicked. I've never seen him this wound up before. I put my hand slightly in front of me to get him to stop rambling. Thankfully, it seemed to have worked.
"I'm willing to do your hours. You don't have to get me anything though."
Azul seemed shocked by my answer. I honestly thought that his eyes were going to pop out of his skull.
"Y-y-you're serious?! You're just willing to work?!"
"Yes! Of course! You're my dorm leader after all! I'm just happy that I'll be able to assist you."
Thus started one of the busiest weeks of your life.
You were working at the Mostro Lounge any time that you weren't in class. Thankfully, during the five minute breaks that you were given, you were able to finish your homework for your classes.
Azul was very thankful for your efforts. Ever since you started serving, it seemed that more and more customers came to the lounge. You just had that charisma about you.
When the week of just pure working was done, you just nearly collapsed on your bed and nearly passed out. You were actually going to do that if it wasn't for a knock on your door.
Letting out a groan of protest, you head over to the door and open it to see Ruggie standing there, looking worse for wear.
"Ruggie? What happened? Why do you look as if you've been sent to the netherworld and were forced to crawl your way back by yourself?"
"Leona. He's been running the entire dorm ragged for the past three days. Please! Come and try to talk some sense into him!"
Ruggie had the same desperation that Azul had at the start of the week. Leona was actually enforcing his rule over his dorm? What has gotten into him?
"Okay, let me just quickly get changed out of my uniform."
"Thank you, (Y/N)!"
You've never seen Savanaclaw in a worse condition before.
Sure, it was a savanna but there weren't even living trees anymore! Everything seemed to have lost life and was just getting worse by the second.
Ruggie was quick to try and get me to Leona. All of the Savanaclaw dorm members seemed to be really hungry and miserable. Even Jack was looking insanely tired. When you came into their line of view, they immediately perked up, like you were some sort of savior.
Ruggie basically pushed you into Leona's room before closing the door behind you, leaving you with your older brother.
Leona also looked quite different. No longer did he really give off lazy, apathetic vibes. He seemed to have an air about him that made your tail go between your legs.
Another surprising thing was the fact that Leona wasn't lying on his bed, instead he was standing and looking out his window. He then turned his head towards you and his eyes scared you.
His eyes were completely void of any strong emotion. It's like someone just drained Leona of who he is.
"Where were you."
Leona's voice reminded me of our father whenever one of us would disobey him. He was angry and an angry Leona was never a good sign.
"I was busy at the Mostro Lounge and my classes."
"Why."
"W-well, Azul asked for my he-"
"Grrr, that cephalopunk... Next time, he asks you for help, you're going to say no."
"Pardon me?"
"I know that you heard me."
I haven't seen Leona like this in a while. He's actually acting like a king.
"You do understand that Azul is my dorm leader, right?"
"And if he makes a mistake that only you can fix, just let him struggle to fix it himself."
"I can't do that with a good conscience."
"That's why as your older brother, I'm ordering you to never help that cephalopunk again."
"Wow, you're acting a lot like Falena right now."
"Zip it. I've already contacted Crowley and got his tail into high gear. Starting tomorrow, you're going to be a part of Savanaclaw."
"What?! You can't do that!"
"I already have. This is so I can keep a closer eye on you and who you hang out with. You're my little brother after all. It's my job to protect you."
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duckyhowls · 9 months
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(Part 1/8) The Joker - "Our Cell"
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WARNINGS: None THEMES: False Imprisonment, Innocent Cohabitation, Mafia/Gangster, Criminally Insane, Belated Love Epiphany, Protective Joker, Possessive Joker, and "Sunny vs Dark" Pairing. CHARACTERS: OC, Warden Jones, Officer Hans, The Joker, and Bruce Wayne (mentioned). SYPNOSIS: An innocent woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time and was framed for murder and thrown into Arkham. What makes it worse is that the asylum is experiencing an overflow of patients and Esme has to room with the Joker. How will an innocent girl survive in this place if she was stuck bunking with the most criminally insane guy around?
“Wait, no…” Esme began, staring right at the document on the old desk in front of her, her pale green eyes wild with shock as she read the words printed in black-and-white. “You can’t be serious!”
The man seated across from her in an expensive looking leather seat pressed his hands together neatly. Warden Jones was a thin man, nothing really special about him other than the one missing finger on his right hand. His pinkie, to be precise. Ever since Esme had met the man a few minutes ago, ‘how’ he had lost it had been on her mind. That was until she was given the document to see.
“I am extremely serious.” Warden Jones readjusted his reading glasses and pointed to the section at the bottom which had been signed. “It was approved by the Wayne Health Department of Gotham. With the way the cells are overflowing with sick patients, there is nowhere else to put you but with him.”
“Surely, not…” Esme wasn’t stupid. Sure, she was small and looked easy to be considered passable to bend under authority, but she wasn’t brain dead. There was definitely reasons why the Joker himself didn’t have a cellmate yet, and the thought of being next made goosebumps rise on the back of her neck and arms.
“I’m afraid I have no choice,” Warden Jones sighed, though he didn’t sound regretful. “The CEO of the entire company, Bruce Wayne, himself, signed on it. It is out of my hands.”
“But this isn’t right!” Esme shouted, beginning to panic now. “I’m a woman. You can’t room me up with some guy. Plus, you’ve heard the stories – hell, you probably have seen them with your own eyes! Warden Jones, the guy is one of the most criminally insane-”
“And you’re not?” The wardens eyes were narrowed dangerously. “The same girl who blew all those kids up down south?”
“I told the judge and I’ve told everyone else!” Esme hissed, her throat closing up at the horrible memories of nobody believing her in that courtroom. “I wasn’t apart of anything. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time! Framed!”
Warden Jones pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and let out a breath of exasperation. “Even if that were true, it is as I said. It��s out of my hands, Ms. Rye. The guards will escort you to the cell now.”
“But this is-”
“The sooner you meet him, the sooner this gets over with Ms. Rye.”
You mean the sooner I get put out of my misery! Esme thought bitterly.
Behind her, Officer Hans, a plain, shortish man with reddish-brown stubble and brown eyes, grabbed her upper arm to pull her up to her feet. Esme didn’t care he was touching her, though. Out of all the patients she could have been paired with, it just had to be the most dangerous man in Gotham City – The Joker.
From what Esme had heard from her peers and the chaos she had seen on the TV; the guy was one of the craziest to exist in the city, maybe even the world. The Joker was described by many as an unpredictable terrorist, that the Joker was a psychopathic criminal and was extremely volatile, especially when it came to conducting his illegal business.
Though, Esme herself had never met the man or even seen him up close, it was definitely someone she really didn’t want to meet. Esme preferred to steer clear from all the risky stuff, thanks. Though, even her cautiousness couldn’t protect her from getting framed for murder and ending up in Arkham.
The warden barely even wished her luck as Officer Hans escorted her out of the office and down the steps to a long hallway which led in the E-BLOCK district. This was where they held the most dangerous of patients such as Jervis Tetch and Jonathan Crane. It’s where they held the Joker. And it was when they neared her new cell that Esme realised that this was actually happening, and that it all started because she decided to go out for once in her life and take a fucking walk.
Esme flinched out of her anxious train of thoughts by the sound of Officer Hans’ jingling keys unlocking the cell door and opening it with a loud, whiny creak. He then shoved Esme forward harshly, almost making her lose her footing and fall to the cold concrete ground.
“Have fun in there girlie.” Officer Hans gave her one last sneer before locking the door closed again and the sounds of his fading footsteps tapping against the laminate flooring in the hall disappeared with him.
Esme’s heart was beating so fast, and her blood felt hot under her skin the longer the eerie silence went on in this dark room.
In the dimly lit shadows of the cell, there was a flash of fluoro green that glinted in the small dapple of light coming from the door, and Esme froze. He was there, at the back of the cell, watching her. She could see him now that her eyes adjusted to the change of lighting. He was sitting on the bottom bunk, leaning forward to eagerly look at her. He was wearing the typical orange scrubs Arkham made all the patients wear, and his pale complexion contrasted vastly against the dark tone of the cell.
The quietness between them frightened her. Esme found that she could barely move as she watched him like some deer in headlights.
Then, a wide, red smile grew on his face, and the light glinted against his broken teeth which had been fixed and filled in with silver replacements. Creepy, yet, startingly nice looking at the same time. Like Esme had noticed, the Joker stood out against the dark vibes of their shared cell, and it was now that he stood up and slowly stepped closer that she could see the various scars and tattoos littered here and there on his face and arms. Despite that strange uniqueness, he was sort of nice looking…
“And who are you?” He purred, cocking his head to the side a little.
Esme bit her lip and closed her eyes as her anxiety flooded through her chest. She was desperately hoping that he wouldn’t just buzz out and try and kill her.
When she opened her eyes, Esme was startled when he was now only a few inches in front of her. The Joker’s grin, if it were even possible, just got even wider at the way she flinched.
“I think I’m gonna like you.” He grinned.
Well, that’s concerning.
[PART 2 COMING SOON]
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macchitea · 1 year
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pssspsps *hands you my skyrim werewolf oc*
(cring lore dump below so my brain becomes normal again)
nirin's my bosmer werewolf dragonborn oc :D!! she's skilled in archery; sneak; and fire magic!
she's selectively mute!! and uses sign language; as well as a (very) limited version of dragon language to those who can understand it; namely paarthurnax; miraak and the greybeards.
she's also feral; an absolutel creacher; lives in the woods; and rarely interacts w/ society;
nirin; or 'nir in' is dragon language for hunt master!! its a name she came up for herself after paarthurnax suggested it. she doesn't actually remember her original name;
i like to think that when the events of the games start; or the moment someone is at the right place at the right time and gets picked to become the 'hero' of the games; they forget their name and a majority of their past life. she still retains her personality; skills and any uhhh;; adverse;; effects of her past!! she just can't remember it! one of these adverse effects being that she's a werewolf (meaning i have to use console commands to make her a werewolf immediately on every playthrough lmao).
as her name suggests she's VERY good at hunting! that's her full time occupation basically lmao. she sometimes visits the drunken huntsman in whiterun to 'sell' her catches, but its rlly just the concerned shopkeepers giving her normal people food and supplies to help her survive.
she has 2 main followers! lydia and miraak.
lydia is her first friend (technically caretaker) in skyrim. i like to think that jarl balgruuf assigned her to nirin out of concern for this Child being the dragonborn and tasked to slay Alduin of all beings, so lydia was tasked at making sure she becomes a well-adjusted person and doesn't bite as much sdfdffdjkl. lydia taught her the basics of reading and writing!! :D they parted ways a bit further into nirin's journey, specifically when she travelled to solstheim
oK SO a BIG part of nirin's character is her struggle w/ her dragonborn identity and the burden of her dragon soul. she 100% rejects the call to adventure, HARD. i hc that the dragon souls a dragonborn absorbs Stays with them in more ways than just making them more powerful; like,, the dragons' personalities, wills and their desire for domination stays with her, with the latter especially getting worse the more dragon souls she absorbs and it certainly doesn't mesh well w/ her werewolf nature fskfs. she comes to paarthurnax often for advice and companionship, but there's only so much he can do, seeing as he only has one (1) dragon soul and never interacts w/ human society.
this is where miraak comes in!!! :DD i've always thought the fact he's the First Dragonborn is Very cool, and that he can have some very interesting dynamics w/ the Last (nirin)!! like, the fact he's been dragonborn for thousands of years!! has killed MANY dragons before and very skilled w/ using the thu'um for combat!! in her story, miraak acts as nirin's (reluctant) mentor. she initially pulled him out of Apocrypha so he could take her place in defeating Alduin, but because of permanent injuries and a curse inflicted by Hermeaus Mora, he's been locked out of Sovngarde and isn't rlly in peak fighting shape to take on a giant dragon god. so he's stuck trying to make sure the last dragonborn doesn't die before she saves the world fjsflkdsjf.
nirin isn't happy about this, miraak is even mORE disgruntled about this.
in conclusion, nobody is happy in this story except for me >:)
if you've read this far uhhhhhh, ty for listening to my unhinged brainrot rant and also i am sorry fjsdlkfjsldkj
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alittledizzy · 2 months
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hospital (dnf)
Hospital waiting rooms are weird. This one especially, it has posters on the wall full of optimism that feels out of place to Dream. Stupid motivational posters full of happy smiling faces on the walls and a blood-stained hoodie on his lap and make that make sense.
"Bro," Nick says.
He's sitting beside Dream, foot tapping restlessly. Dream's isn't strangely, enough. He's not sure he's ever been this still before.
"You want me to take that?" Nick asks. "Any of that stuff?"
Dream looks down. There's an IRL backpack by his feet, thousands of dollars worth of battered and smashed equipment inside. George stuck a stupid keychain that came out of the PO Box on it. It's a minion. It's always the fucking minions.
"No," Dream says, clenching his fingers more tightly into the hoodie. He doesn't want to let go of it, of any of this stuff.
George will want them when he comes out of surgery.
"Okay," Nick says. His leg starts tapping ten times faster. A noisy breath and a curse fly out of his mouth. "Fuck, how long can this shit take?"
"Surgeries take a while," Dream says.
"Yeah, but this is too fucking long," Nick says. "You think I could just go tell them step aside? Let me at it? I did that surgeon simulator game when I was a kid."
Dream has to laugh. "You're so fucking - you're so stupid. A video game doesn't prepare you for surgery. You'd just like, kill him."
There's a strangled moment where they both have to live with what Dream just said.
"Nah," Nick says, full of forced casualness. "I'd save his life. He'd fucking owe me. It'd be such a W moment. The hospital would be like, yo, you're just a doctor now, report to work tomorrow."
"Do you know how long a doctor's shift is? My mom was a nurse, they're like - stupid long. You'd never survive. You stream for four hours and you need a break."
"Now why the hell am I catching strays?" Nick shoots back, but he doesn't sound annoyed at all.
The conversation still falls silent. Dream's phone makes a sound and he realizes it must be his mom, because his mom and George are the only people through his dnd.
He ignores the new message and looks at his recent texts from George. There's nothing special there. It's just the same shit they always talk in text. you up and we're ordering food and stupid memes. His eyes start to sting. His chest feels tight.
Nick starts playing TikTok loudly on his phone. It jars Dream out of his own feelings, which he thinks isn't really an accident.
He shifts in the seat and adjusts the hoodie on his lap. Surely they won't have to wait much longer.
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levmada · 3 months
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First off, I would like to say I thoroughly enjoy your Levi posts, especially the ones where you break down his character, very insightful ❤
I've been stalking your tags a bit, and I noticed you mentioned Levi incorporating his mother into his wardrobe can you elaborate on this?
And secondly, you've likened Levi to Joel from TLOU, but for some reason I'm stuck on the dynamic of Levi losing two fingers vs how Ellie lost hers, and the aftermath, the mental gut-punch with losing something that is part of what makes them feel "useful". (I'm a masochist lol)
Thank you!!
awweeeee thank you so much!! :D
haha yes about the wardrobe part, either you mean the crossdressing post, or the kid levi in canon post😭😭😭?and there's quite the steep difference in theme.
to summarize for anyone else, 1: it's plainly obvious to me that Kenny first came upon Levi while he wore his mother's dress (or one of), and throughout his childhood, he cut it into a shirt (and speculatively, later keeps it with him as a handkerchief/his cravat).
2: I hc that Levi enjoys crossdressing with some resemblances to his mother because of, basically, the positive associations (similar to tea). for example, the perfume she used to wear.
there's not much to say that i can think of that i haven't already said🤔Kuchel was Levi's WORLD. she - would have - taught him the value of humanity and how to be kind, even though she didn't know what he'd go on to do. she was the foundation for the hero he'd go on to be. Levi's childhood is the antithesis of happiness (lol), but his mother was the closest thing to pure joy. it's just a fact.
similar to tea-drinking (as suggested in canon so far...), i don't see why cherishing memories of Kuchel would stop at that + there's the psychological implications.
as far as that goes, Kuchel died at what is the brain is soaking up info and experiences like a sponge. + the comparison is valid that Kuchel was heaven to Levi whereas he (and she) lived inside hell, so he as a child would latch on to her in common (ie, keeping her dress) and anomalous ways (ie, crossdressing as an adult (((w/ her as the primary influence for this behavior)))).
reminders of her are a source of comfort, tldr.
OMGGGG i've never thought of this!!!!
haha i've actually made a post on the symbolism around levi losing his fingers😅....and another post.... but to cut to the chase, levi's fixation on violence as pointless, unending (literally unending, bc zeke was healing as he cut him...), cruelty was his downfall + so was his selfishness when he chose armin while fully believing that erwin was the key to saving humanity.
his injuries were his punishment, but they didn't... destroy a priceless part of him like ellie's injury. he could still fight. in fact, if it weren't for levi's special way of holding one sword backwards, he would've had a much harder time.
but without her two fingers, ellie can't play guitar anymore. so her and joel's song won't ever ring out the same; that last connection she still had to him is ruined. also, what led to it, ellie succumbing to thoughtless, cold, cruel violence was her downfall in the world of the last of us, where one's humanity, so to speak, is the greatest refuge. in that fight, in the end, ellie tells abby to "just take him", referring literally to lev, but figuratively to joel. but along with that, ellie took away her own connection to joel herself.
so in the end of that, ellie loses everything, reconciles with her feelings towards joel, and - assumably - moves on. it's bittersweet... and she loses loses joel... but it's peace.
it's different for levi. yes cruelty that went against what His Person would want was his downfall like her, but he didn't lose everything. he almost did: his miraculous survival was out of his hands; if he wasn't an ackerman, he'd be dead. and dying would've been breaking his promise to erwin. levi's injury is a punishment of the highest order, and the establishment of his last chance to "keep his connection" to erwin, if you think of it in terms of how ellie's and levi's situations are related.
they both have their ups and downs :')
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meowsticmarvels · 1 year
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hello mcsm community. this is a repost of a long ass twitter thread i made so i apologize in advance if its formatted weird (and sort of disorganized). but heres some of my Thoughts and analysis on radar. i have much more to say than just this of course but HERE WE GO! radar insaneposting tumblr edition. long post incoming (i worked very hard on this)
ANYWAYS!
- he idolizes the new order and puts them on a pedestal above himself a bit. i mean from some dialogue it's clear he doesn't have the highest opinion of himself but he treats the new order smiliarly to how they felt about the old order in thw wither storm arc
- i have mentioned this several times but the "prison radar" thing definitely comes across to me as him trying to overcompensate (and mimic those he sees as "strong" like petra and jack) sort of. like if you contextualise it with how a lot of the characters called him weak an episode prior and it definitely seemed to have an impact on him its like. yeah. especially being thrown into a situation like w/ the sunshine institute and the whole iron breathtaker thing that has Got to fuck you up. idk i jusy see a lot of people take that at face value like "oh look he's being silly" when it comes across to me as more like insecurity ig?
- hes so autism its unreal
but yeah the whole thing kinda fucks him up
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ig the only thing thay kinda bothers me is that arc doesnt feel finished. and also jesse can ENCOURAGW him to act like someone hes not??? OH AND. id like to point out this thing also involves him trying to break his own strict patterns which is p interesting to me. by this i mean the "disregard my bedtime! break whatever rules I feel like! within reason!" he seems to feel that in order to become stronf he has to be like. less caring of the rules w/e but the "within reason" line and the fact that he dislikes things being disorganized still is like. he doesnt Want to act like this. he doesnt seem to like thag but he feels iys the only way he can be strong and adapt to such a lifethreatening situation (to act like someone he clearly isnt)
another point id like to make is his relationship with Stella. it isnt really explored past this one scene in episode 2 of s2 but god there's a lot to unpack here
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"you'll never change" - has stella... always been like this?  even when radar worked under her (which HAS to be at least a year before s2 bc apparently he's been working for jesse for about a year)
 also she calls him a "quitter" which. 1. has a negative connotation meaning that she Does Not Approve of him leaving 2. implies he quit of his own accord. this isn't normal former boss/former employee interaction though something definitely happened. like theyre both Weirdly Hostile and this is never brought up again....... ehat happened.
also "he doesn't even know how to use a sword" this part stuck out to me but Considering this thing i noticed a few months ago about how the mcsm world is very. survival oriented and people who can slay powerful monsters (i.e. old order) are looked at with high respect. so basically she's calling him weak here which is. Huh. also "you don't know anything" girl what happened.... why does radar feel he has to prove himself like that...
"id be careful about counting on him for anything" what did she mean by this. did radar fuck up in some way unintentionally and it pissed stella off or something??? because something clearly happened and im very sad this is never explored further bc this is a fucking interesting plot point.
also. the last image...... this is so fucking interesting regarding radar as a character because it does actually provide context for the whole prison radar thing. like holy shit this says a lot. the first line kinda shows his insecurity already. he's aware people don't believe in him and think he's weak and a coward, but he's going to try anyway. he feels he has to prove himself kinda.. like "you'll see! i can do it watch!" and considering his behavior in this episode it shows. he's overcompensating for that fear and trying to prove that he can be enough to make a difference. especially shown by how he reacts when "Vos" tells him he's not up for the task. he's trying, it isn't enough, so he decides to mimic his heroes and pretend to be someone he isn't (which... unfortunately half the cast doesn't take seriously)
the second line proves my points more. "im not the person she thinks i am anymore" raises a lot of questions on what happened ofc but there's also the "I can be different. Braver. If that's what the situation requires... I'll do it." and guess what! he *does* do that! a combination of pressure from people telling him that he can't do it and he'd just get hurt in the process and is too weak and cowardly to really do much + the stress of the situations he's thrust into seems to sort of catalyze his decision to put on the "prison radar" persona and pretend to mimic his heroes and act strong to not only make a difference and mean something but also to survive The Horrors . but he doesn't want to do this, that isn't who he is as a person, moreso what he feels he has to do. also thinking of pne line where he says something abojt the "incredible misery in the world crushing down on you". like this is a random throwaway line?? clearly the entire situation of s2 is Getting to him but he never really gets to Express that
now ofc like i mentioned this arc is in no way perfect. it's fucking interesting but it feels unresolved and forgotten by episode 5 along with the other characters completely ignoring the fact that that isn't who he is along with jesse even praising that in some dialogue options. like the writing of this kinda confuses me because everything radar says and feels up to that point implies that it's a façade built to be what others want him to be and as a stress response but some later things kinda treat the way he acts as a Good Thing and like ???? like i get it if they wanted to do the "being more courageous" arc sure. fine. but this doesn't seem like it was simply written as that. he does Not usually act like how he does during the "prison radar" thing and its just never addressed. which fucks me up bc this is personally one of my favorite character arcs of mcsm due to how complicated and insane it is + hes one of my favorite characters ever and i relate to his issues a lot but instead thw writings kinda ????? but yeah. its always bothered me really but to be Fair mcsm was hit by a lot of budget cuts that affected the plot like dont even get me started on the scrapped assistant to the warden who sesms to be meant to be the antithesis to radar kind of... and im p sure some episodes had different writers. so yeah this sucks but it isnt gonna piss me off that bad I just wish his arc was handled a bit differently. might potentially write something or w/e about this but anyways if you read this entire thread 1. you're insane 2. we do a little trolling. follow me mcsm truthers
original tweet thread here: https://twitter.com/rival_trevor/status/1659130820999753730?s=20
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pixelmensupremacy · 1 year
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State of denial
A/N: I'm joining on in the Joel simpage
Word count: 1.2K
WARNINGS: cheating, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, cunnilingus, porn with little to no plot
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Morals- an indicator of humanity the majority of humans possessed or at least they did up until the world, as they knew it before, radically changed. Anarchy and hopelessness had crushed many people’s mentality, forcing them to go against their core values in order to survive.
(Y/N) liked to believe –unlike most- she managed to preserve her morals despite the chaos everyone was forced to endure. For the most part, she stayed true to herself; anything she considered preventable- she avoided. She stuck to very common core values such as never betraying someone’s trust, especially one of her closest people; that was a line she never even imagined crossing. Except she began questioning her beliefs once she came across a man named Joel Miller.
A few months back the mysterious man had moved in a few blocks down from her and her boyfriend’s shared house. Out of curiosity and neighborly manners, but mostly curiosity, (Y/N) went to greet the guy. With a handful of homemade biscuits, neatly packed in a small box, she knocked on the door only to be greeted by a grumpy-looking man. At first, she wasn’t impressed by his chilly, unwelcoming exterior, though the more she learned about this Joel guy the more she was proven wrong by his intriguing nature and many talents.
Ever since (Y/N) got to know him better, she often found herself visiting her new neighbor, whose charm and thick accent had her mind wandering off to obscene scenarios. Inevitable guilt burdened her, though his presence calmed her mind; his rare, deep chuckles, his magical hands stroking the guitar strings made for a melody that entranced her into a state of blissful serenity. Enchanted by his presence, she forgot about the stale relationship she found comfort in and instead desired to be with Joel.
Fortunately for her, he reciprocated these feelings. Throughout their time spent together, a spark eventually sparked within Joel that brought to him emotions he had not experienced in a long while. A desire to be by her side and shower her with all the love he has emerged whenever she was around and even if he tried to hide it his actions gave him away. When he first began having these feelings, he was startled by how intense they were to the point where he tried to ignore them but they didn’t fade away. Her bright smile and caring nature made it impossible for him to discard the love he had developed for her; it was an internal battle he was destined to lose. So, one day he surrendered.
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To say it was wrong to cheat on her boyfriend of two years was beyond an understatement, but damn did Joel’s dick make her forget everything. And- akin to an addiction- she couldn’t get enough of him. So came running back to him at any given chance.
His intense aura compounded with his skillful movements was bound to create an intoxicating combination of sinful pleasure (Y/N) utterly adored. Every thrust filled up her pussy in the most blissful way possible, whilst his strong- yet gentle- grip on her hips balanced her weight all the while keeping her grounded in the present moment. His name rolled off her tongue repeatedly like a mantra that kept her from completely ascending to another dimension as euphoria clouded any trail left of her rational thinking.
“What would your poor boyfriend think of this.” Joel teased mockingly, reminding her of her partner, who had escaped her conscience long ago. “You getting fucked by another man and enjoying every second of it.” He continued in between low moans; beads of sweat pricked on his skin, making it glow under the iniquitous moonlight.
“Yes, p-please.” She babbled, not even knowing what she begged for.
“You like that?” His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head backward so his lips barely touched her ear. In response, she hummed, too breathless to form coherent speech except for whines and whimpers of pure bliss.
Lewd sounds, composed of skin slapping skin, echoed across the bedroom; (Y/N)’s ass bounced with every merciless thrust of his that rocked her entire body. Her fingers gripped the sheets as pleasure weaved in her muscles; her vision blurred, indicating she was about to reach her peak.
“Joel… I’m.” She trailed off but was unable to finish her sentence due to Joel’s dick hitting her most sensitive spot. Though he didn’t need to hear the rest to understand what she wanted to say.
“That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock.” He lightly bit on her earlobe before he picked up his pace, hitting her sweet spot at an animalistic rate. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
A moan ripped out of her throat at how his husky voice tingled her ears, each of these filthy words made her walls flutter; her hips jerked backward, in search of the sweet friction she so badly desired. With every thrust her knees weakened, her speech grew incoherent and her groans got louder.
“Joel I-“ (Y/N) whined; shocking waves rushed through her nervous system, sending a euphoric sensation to her brain. His name fell off her lips in the form of a high-pitched moan, whilst her cum generously coated his twitching cock.
Joel followed soon after; he groaned through gritted teeth as he reached his climax within her, covering her folds as a mark of their hidden relationship. Though he didn’t stop there, for he was far from done with her.
Lowering his head, he was faced with her soaked entrance dripping with their mixed cum, causing him to wet his lips at the lewd scene. With no hesitation whatsoever, he lapped at her glistening pussy, causing bumps to form on her sweaty skin. His name rolled off her plump lips once more, whilst he closed his lips around the bundle of nerves, nestled above her dripping hole.
“I bet he doesn’t treat you like this.” His voice rumbled against her core, sending chills down her spine; The vibrations of his deep voice massaged her clit, overstimulating her. “He doesn’t eat you out like I do.” He continued, his teeth grazing over her clit. “He can’t fuck you like me.” Joel went on before his tongue ran between her lips and all the way down her hole. With his index finger, he pushed inside of her all the while his mouth was focused on her clit. Once again (Y/N) was a moaning mess; her whole body burned in overstimulation that was both blissful and too much to handle. Though she couldn’t stop him, nor she wanted to; instead she relished the sensation of his mouth doing its wonders. Just when she was getting to her second orgasm he stopped only to plant a kiss on her temple.
“Why’d you stop?” (Y/N) whined, her puzzled (E/C) eyes met his.
“Showing you what you’re missing out on, while you’re still with that boy, fooling yourself that you love him.” He teased the tip of his cock on her entrance, his fingers tracing her wet folds with featherlight touches.
“And what do you suggest?” She asked jokingly, biting at her lip in anticipation of round two.
“You should follow your heart.” His genuine gaze bore right into her, implying the seriousness of his words.
“How philosophical.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, but deep down she knew he was right.
Much to her disappointment, Joel retreated and laid beside her. Tired she snuggled against his side and she stayed silent. Now she had a lot to ponder upon; the events of today. The fate of her crumbling relationship was yet to be decided.
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curlyirl · 3 days
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day 9/40 w/o my intp
i'm surviving, yayy ~
i didn't get the part time job like i was hoping for. . . i've been feeling down because of it but i didn't tell anybody even my intp. especially my intp. because i don't wanna share some sad news. i don't want him to think about it. i'll tell him when he gets back. if i remember. right now i'm thinking what to do next with this part time job hunting.
lately i've been feeling so out of place. in my whole life, i have never encountered anything that made me feel passionate about. be it a profession or a hobby, a skill, nothing. i'm a fast learner and i can be a bit of almost everything, but never so good at one thing. so i guess i still don't know what i want in life? or i do know what i want in life but not sure how i should achieve them? or. . . maybe i really do know what i wanna do but don't have the guts to get it started? i feel stuck.
on a positive note, my intp sent me a photo of him with his mom and sister. they look adorable. he never misses a day sending me messages. or not yet. either way i appreciate him for that. i find it really sweet.
there's a lot of things lately that upset me, i just can't type them down because it'll just double my upsetness but yeah, with all those plus my intp being far away, sometimes i just find myself teary-eyed.
oh, and the heat. summer is coming and i have summer SAD. go figure.
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voraciousvore · 5 months
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The Half-Blood Giant (34/51)
Chapter 34: Home
Hunter had survived an entire week of school, and he was exhausted and miserable. Now, though, he was faced with a new and unexpected challenge: the weekend. Two days of being stuck in the dorm with a bunch of other boys who hated his guts with a passion. His cruel actions and rude attitude hadn’t won him any friends. The only person who gave him a chance was Hector, but Hunter resented him for being with Hannah, his new crush. Besides, Hector was a human, an inferior. Hunter wasn’t sure if he could stand only having a human for a friend. It was pathetic. 
Luckily, Hunter was rescued from this looming torment by his parents, of all people. Jackie opened a portal for Hunter on Friday night and asked him if he wanted to come home for the weekend. He jumped at the opportunity, despite how depressing his life had been back home. He was trapped inside the house again, sure, but at least he wasn’t surrounded by people who despised him. And he had access to as much food as he needed: wonderful, delicious, home-cooked meals. His father was more than willing to cook for his darling son and didn’t judge him for his out-of-control binging. His stomach finally had some relief. 
Despite the advantages of being back home, Hunter recognized that his experience had permanently changed him. His cravings for human meat didn’t fade just because there weren’t humans around. While he still didn’t want to eat his mother, since she was his own flesh and blood, he was far more aware of the natural order of humans and giants and his place within that structure. His predatory instincts were sharpened as he noticed with more clarity and interest her smell and small movements as those of a prey animal. He realized his father’s obsession and devotion to her wasn’t as pure and loving as he always assumed. His father could barely contain himself from devouring her. She was lucky to have survived his voracious impulses. In fact, his father’s restraint was laudable. Hunter could hardly control himself from eating humans, and he was only half-giant. 
Additionally, he had enjoyed lording over the tiny humans at his school and frightening them with his giant size. Indeed, even though he felt out of place like a freak, he was still bigger and taller than everyone else, including the biggest giants there. He liked being at the apex of the food chain, even if he was universally reviled. In the Land of Giants, he was still relatively small, and had to fear strangers and the outside world. If he dared to venture forth from the safety of his home, he could be tackled to the ground, chopped up into pieces, and devoured by a much larger giant. He lacked control over his life. He hated living in isolation and fear. 
Chester was surprised to see his son had grown so much in only a week. Hunter was about ten feet taller than him now. Jackie was disconcerted to see he was still enlarging, which pleased Hunter. He resented his parents in spite of their unconditional love for him. Jackie and Chester were full of questions about his school experience, but he kept his answers curt and clipped, omitting the most critical parts. He especially didn’t want to tell them about how he got in trouble multiple times at school. His parents were concerned about him, and disappointed that he wouldn’t divulge more, but there was nothing they could do to coax him into speaking. 
Hunter was far more willing to open up to his Grandpa Ajax, whom he respected deeply and believed understood him better. His parents obliged him when he asked to see his grandparents and chauffeured him to their estate. Ajax was ecstatic to see how much bigger Hunter had grown, with the knowledge that he was still sprouting like a weed. His grandson glowed under his praise. After visiting with everyone for a while, Ajax and Hunter went for a walk around the artificial lake for a more frank and private discussion. 
“I hate humans,” Hunter vented. “You were right. They’re weak and pathetic, but the giants in that world treat them like equals. It’s so bizarre.” As he spoke, he stomped on a twig, snapping it in half under his foot. 
“They’re deluded,” Ajax agreed, slapping Hunter on the back. “I’m heartened to see you still have common sense.” 
“It takes everything I have not to snatch them up and devour them. They smell so delicious.” 
“Oh, yes. They’re a rare delicacy for sure. To be honest, son, I’m a bit envious of you. If I went to that world, I wouldn’t hesitate to gorge myself.” Ajax turned up the corner of his mouth in a subtle smirk. 
“I was sent to the principal’s office for grabbing up a human student and shaking her in the middle of class. Now everyone hates me.” Hunter looked down at his feet as he walked, dejected. 
“There’s no point in seeking the approval of fools,” Ajax expressed. “Just be yourself and do what you believe is right. You shouldn’t care about what delusional idiots think of you.” 
“Yeah, you’re right,” Hunter agreed. He kicked a pebble into the water with a satisfying plunk. “The only kid that wants to be friends with me is a human. I’m not sure how to feel about that.” 
“Lure him in with a false sense of security and eat him,” Ajax suggested with a grim smile. 
“Oddly enough, his girlfriend is the human I bullied,” Hunter continued, putting his hands in his pockets. With some hesitation, he got to the core of the issue. “I… I don’t know if it’s because… I’m part human…” He made a face. “But I’m starting to develop… feelings for her.” He slowed his pace and slumped his shoulders, averting his eyes with shame. 
Ajax quirked a brow. “I see. Well, these things can happen from time to time, as shameful as it is, even with pure-blooded giants. Just look at your father.” Hunter grimaced. “Believe it or not, long before I met your grandma, back when I was a young lad, I developed feelings for a human woman once.” 
Hunter did a double take, flabbergasted. “What? You?” 
Ajax nodded. “I was more handsome and less scary-looking back then, of course. More naïve as well. It was a short-lived fling, to say the least. She was short-lived as well.” His singular eye grew misty with distant recollections. “Neither of our parents approved, so we met in secret. One day, my parents found out, despite my best efforts to hide her. They told me I shouldn’t play with my food and pressured me into eating her. To be frank, I don’t believe I would have been able to resist my hunger much longer regardless. So, I gave in to temptation and consumed her.” 
He rubbed his belly, as if the ill-fated woman was still alive and trapped within. “Ah, she was amazing, she was! Now I live with the knowledge that she will always be a part of me.” He gave Hunter a serious look. “You see, son, humans and giants were never meant to commingle. Our hunger for humans is too powerful. They are nothing more than food to us. And we live much longer than they do. Even if your parents stay in a happy relationship, your father will outlive your mother by hundreds of years. This is merely a fact of life. Giants are inherently superior to humans.” 
Hunter nodded. He’d learned the answer to his burning question, but now he had more questions. Would he live as long as a normal giant, or would he die early because of his human blood? Did the giants in the other realm live longer than humans, or did they have the same lifespan? He was relieved that Ajax had responded to his humiliating confession with understanding as opposed to harsh judgement. He had a better idea of what he needed to do now, for his own sanity, when he returned to the boarding school. 
That time came around all too soon as the weekend flew by. With plenty of nutrients for his expanding body, Hunter had increased in size even more over the weekend. He felt a pit of dread in his gut, not only at returning to the school but with his whole situation with Hannah. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to accept the advice of his grandfather. Jackie made a portal for him early Monday morning close to the school, in a discreet location where he wouldn’t be seen. He passed through the big metal gate and entered the main building of the school. As he went through the double doors, he ran into Principal Henderson. 
“Oh! Hunter! Just the person I wanted to… see…” He trailed off, casting his eyes up at Hunter’s face. The teenager exceeded him in height by a significant margin now, around fifteen feet. “You grew taller.” 
“Yup,” Hunter confirmed tersely. 
“I got you new uniforms, but I didn’t anticipate… you might have outgrown them already,” Milton admitted. “Although I figured you’d grow some… at this rate, we might have to special tailor them. I don’t know if they make clothes for giants as big as you. I mean, sometimes I have trouble finding clothes long enough even at my size.” Milton was flustered, and no wonder: Hunter was turning into a giant amongst giants, and he might not be able to accommodate the boy if he grew too large. 
Milton handed him a parcel with the new uniforms, and Hunter went in the bathroom to change, grateful for anything that was sized better since none of his clothing fit properly. He was surprised to see that the clothes were roomy, almost too big if anything. The principal had either overestimated his size or prepared for him to grow larger—most likely the latter. Hunter was pleased with the idea that he would soon fill out the clothing to a comfortable fit. He exited the bathroom and wandered through the hallway to the cafeteria. While he had already eaten a sizable breakfast at home, he figured it couldn’t hurt to snack on more. 
His nose detected Hannah’s unique blueberry scent, but to his surprise he didn’t smell Hector in the vicinity at all. With his curiosity piqued, he prowled over to the human section to find Hannah sitting alone at one of the tiny tables. Her skin turned ashen when she witnessed his ominous shadow looming over her. She became rigid as her dainty face rotated up to see his massive form. He crouched down on his haunches, leaning over her. Some of the nearby humans, sensing danger, hastened to scamper away. 
“Hannah,” he uttered, unaware of the leer creeping over his features. “Why are you all alone? Where’s Hector?” 
“Oh!” she squeaked. “Um... er... first period is his empty slot... y’know, since we don’t have to take PE...” 
“Why don’t you have breakfast with me then?” Without waiting for an answer, he closed his hand around her, raising her up as he stood back to his full height. Hannah was so stunned she didn’t even cry out. Hunter encased her in his fist casually as he collected his breakfast and took her to his isolated table in the corner of the room. He plunked her down on the table and began to eat his breakfast, admiring her as he did so. She looked so cute with how flustered she was, her tiny hands flitting to her face and arms. She was petrified, unable to make a sound as she cowered helplessly on the table before the giant. 
Hunter couldn’t resist vocalizing his thoughts. “Gosh, you’re just so adorable when you squirm like that!” Hannah froze up, not sure how to respond. Hunter reached out and patted her little head with his finger. Her hair was soft. He ran the tip of his finger, thicker than her entire body, down the side of her face. She was precious, like a perfect little doll. He pinched her gently between his thumb and forefinger and brought her up to his eyes so he could see her better. Her petite frame quivered against his touch. 
He was grateful to have received a double portion of breakfast that morning, because otherwise he would’ve been sorely tempted to eat her. She smelled delicious. He played with her in his hand, toying with her, examining her. He was fascinated with her. He forgot his food and everything else as she consumed his full attention. 
Hannah finally found her voice. “S-stop it...” she whispered. “L-l-let me down... please...” Hunter’s mouth turned down into a frown, his eyebrows crunching down over his flashing green eyes. 
“What’s wrong? I’m not hurting you, am I?” he questioned, carefully cupping her in his palm. He stroked her back with his finger. She trembled and pulled away from his touch. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, Hannah. I already apologized for what I did in class. Why can’t you just move on from that?” 
“It’s not that, Hunter,” she tried to explain. His hateful eyes sparked again with temperamental fire, and she almost lost her nerve, but she forced herself to proceed. “What you’re doing... grabbing me up and touching me like this without my permission, it’s not okay. I don’t appreciate it.” 
A shadow of fury passed over his features, but he controlled his temper. “Why not?” he countered. “I’m big and you’re small. I can do whatever I please.” To emphasize the point, he flexed his hand around her. “Why can’t you just cooperate with me, Hannah? Can’t you see how much I like you? I want to be friends.” 
“Well, I don’t,” Hannah said, more firmly this time. 
“Why don’t you like me?” Hunter asked, raising his voice as his emotions flared up. “Why does everyone at this godforsaken school hate me so much?” 
“Because you’re a jerk,” Hannah answered. She stood up in his hand, gripping one of his curving fingers for support. “Now put me down already!” 
Ignoring her demand, Hunter persisted, “What do you see in Hector anyways? What does he have that I don’t?” 
Hannah’s frustration was beginning to outweigh her fear, and she answered boldly. “Hector is a kind person who is considerate of others and respects me! You’re the total opposite! You only think of yourself, you’re an arrogant, entitled prick, and you ignore my boundaries entirely! I can’t stand you!” 
Hannah covered her mouth as she realized she had made a terrible mistake. Hunter was livid. His enormous fingers arched over her head, closing around her, and for a terrifying moment Hannah thought he would squash her like a bug. She let out an involuntary cry of fright, and the sound made him stop. He opened his hand again, staring at her with a murderous expression. He was gritting his teeth and a vein was pulsing in his forehead, as his face nearly turned purple with rage, but he also appeared as if he would burst into tears. However, Hannah’s panicked face stayed his hand. He couldn’t stand to hurt her, despite his boiling wrath. He lowered his hand to the ground, and Hannah didn’t hesitate to jump out of his palm and run like her life depended on it. Hunter turned away, burying his head in his hands and rubbing his face.  
Chapter 35
Chapter 1
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watercolor-hearts · 5 months
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Hey swettie!! Rumours said that you're doing panick attack prompts🥺 I'd love to make a request for you if you're ok with thaaaat.
10 and 4, for Piarles🤍💙
Hi dear 😊
I took my time this one, that's for sure, but I had to survive the first semester, and also, I don't really know that much about Pierre so for a while I wasn't even sure if I'll be able to write this story for you.
But it's about a panic attack and it's hard to say no to it, especially when back then this was the only prompt I got in a long time. So yeah, I tried my best with it and I hope you like it.
Oh, and another thing. This is the first time something like this happened, but I forgot to include the actual prompts in the story. I only remembered it was a panic attack prompt, I forgot about the actual lines (10 & 4 from a panic attack prompt list). I'm so sorry. I hope you'll still like it. ❤
Also, dear people who want to request a story from me: please check my pinned post before sending prompts and pairings. It has all the important information about pairings and topics I write and don't write for. Let's make each other's job easier. Thank you. 😊
Charles/Pierre, Arthur • 1067 • crash • mentions of dying • panic attack • fainting • hurt/comfort • crying • a religious moment • Ao3 link
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Charles was chatting with Pierre outside the Alpine garage when it happened; a loud bang on the track, carbon fiber flying everywhere, fans screaming and crying on the grandstands. A huge crash in turn one.
“Oh my God, who was it?” Charles asked, immediately turning around to see if he could identify the car from where he was standing but they were too far away to clearly see. He needed to get closer.
The blood froze in Pierre’s veins when he saw the crash on the TV on the wall of the garage. It was Arthur. And it was bad. Very bad.
“Charles, wait!” Pierre shouted when Charles started running. Pierre knew Charles shouldn’t go there. They won’t let him close but he still shouldn’t go there. 
Charles didn’t listen to him. He needed to make sure his brother was alright. 
A few moments later Pierre was able to catch him but it was too late, Charles had already heard words like “it’s a Dams” and “got T-boned” and “it’s in two pieces”. Charles’ throat tightened and heart pounded as he tried to get closer to have a better view.
“Charles!” Pierre touched Charles’ shoulder to get his attention and to hold him back from wanting to go closer. 
“Let me go!” Charles shouted, fighting Pierre’s strong hold on him. “I need to see if it’s Arthur, Pierre. I need to—”
“They won’t let you there, Charles,” Pierre told him, trying to guide him away, unsuccessfully. “We should go back to the garage.”
“Is it Arthur, Pierre?” Charles asked, voice trembling. Pierre didn’t know what to say. “Is it Arthur, Pierre?” Charles asked again, louder, his chest heaving with difficult breaths.
“Charles, come back with me, okay?” Pierre asked, looking into Charles’ scared eyes, trying to quickly find a way to get Charles back to the garage before he'd break down. “They won’t let you go there. Come with me. They’ll tell you everything they know.”
“I need to see my brother!” Charles shouted at Pierre when he tried to pull him away from the crowd that was blocking the view. “I need to see him, Pierre! I need to see if he’s—” Charles’ chest heaved as he tried to breathe but he started feeling like it’s harder and harder to do it. They didn’t let him see his brother. They didn’t… “I need to hold his hand, Pierre. I can’t—I can’t lose him. I can’t—”
“He’s being airlifted to the hospital,” one of the marshalls told them, “They’re working hard to bring him back.”
If looks could kill, Pierre would’ve killed that marshall for saying this in front of Charles. 
“W-what do you mean to bring him back?” Charles asked, breath stuck in his throat as the realization hit him. His brother was dying. They were doing CPR on him. 
The world started spinning with Charles. He didn’t know where he was, his vision became blurry, he couldn’t breathe, he could only feel his heart racing like it wanted to jump out of his chest. Arthur was dying. His little brother was dying. Dying. Dying. Dying.
And now Charles felt like he was dying too.
“-les, look at me,” Pierre told him while putting a hand on his shoulder to distract him, “You need to breathe—”
“Arthur—”
“Charles, please, look at me,” Pierre asked, trying to help Charles calm down but it didn’t seem to work because Charles didn’t listen to him but started hyperventilating instead. Now Pierre almost started panicking too, seeing how fast Charles’ breaths were and how disoriented he looked. He had never experienced anything like this. He didn’t know what to do. 
“I can’t brea— I can’t— My chest—” Charles whispered before his sight went from blur to nothing, his only luck not falling on the floor was Pierre’s quick reflexes and strong hands catching him and preventing him from hitting his head.
“Help!” Pierre shouted, blood rushing in his ears as he held Charles’ limp body close to his own, his heart racing like he's just ran a marathon, “I need a medic!”
***
“It was a panic attack,” the doctor at the medical center told them after taking a look at Charles’ EKG, not seeing any abnormalities in it that could cause concern. Charles was now lying on the examining bed, fully conscious. Fortunately, he had only blacked out for a few seconds.
“You sure it wasn’t a heart attack or something like that?” Pierre asked, his thumb caressing Charles’ hand, looking for reassurance and also trying to provide comfort to Charles. “He gestured towards his chest and wanted to say something about it before he collapsed.”
“I’m sure, yes,” the doctor nodded, “His EKG is normal, so is his pulse, blood pressure, heart sounds, and breathing, and there’s no chest or arm pain. It was a really strong and scary panic attack but it’s over now, fortunately. I advise resting for a few hours,” he said, and then looked at Charles, “Someone from your team is waiting for you outside. You can either go back to the garage or stay here for a while to gather energy, it’s up to you. Do you have any questions?”
“Is…,” Charles gulped, taking a deep breath before attempting to actually ask what he wanted to know since he has been conscious again, “Is Arthur… alive?”
“He’s in critical condition,” the doctor replied, “He’d been airlifted to the closest hospital and is in surgery now. This is all I can tell you.”
“Will he…?” Charles wanted to ask, but instead he just shook his head and tried not letting the tears find their way down his face. It was hard not to cry, but he wanted to look strong, and he knew nobody knew if Arthur would survive.
“We are all hoping for the best.”
Charles nodded, closing his eyes for a moment before opening again and looking at the doctor. “Would you please tell my team I need a few minutes alone? I mean, with Pierre. Just a few more minutes and I’ll go back.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.”
After the doctor had left, Pierre looked at his and Charles’ hand and then at Charles. His heart broke when he noticed the wet spots on Charles’ face, his eyelashes stuck together from tears, his eyes red and glassy.
“Charles,” Pierre whispered, squeezing Charles’ hand, voice thin from almost crying, “Let’s pray for Arthur.”
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