#ah fuck it we ball
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dead leaves
summary: the creator is meant to be worshipped and praised, exalted to the highest of high. so… what went wrong?
word count: 1.2k
-> warnings: mentions of blood, you die multiple times, bitter(?) ending, spoilers for xiao lore (but it’s not said to be xiao specifically so technically you could read and just not know it’s him but now that i’ve said that you know it’s him so-)
-> gn reader (you/yours)
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me
< masterlist > || next >
it wasn’t meant to happen like this.
it was never to occur at all, in fairness, but like this?
the clouds parted to make way for a single glitering star, shining a white hot gold. the whole world turned, stopped and stared in awe, every leaf on every stalk bearing witness to the one they called god.
it wasn’t supposed to be like this. the golden shine poured through the tall windows of a palace meant for you, the heretic in a crown ordering your people to betray you. their hands shook where their followers could not see—perhaps even they were aware of why the trees were rejoicing.
you, blessed you, torn from your home by the divinity in your blood, picking yourself up from sand with barely a vague memory of your location. walk, climb, walk again, and that’s where you learned how to swim, led on by the crumbling stone of barbatos’ statue. the squirrels chittered and the hilichurls retreated, not wanting to frighten you, bandaged hands seeking shields and clubs to keep busy instead.
mondstat is the nation of anemo. happy and bustling, merchants calling across courtyards, adventurers waking with the sun to continue their trade. a cool breeze welcomed you, tugging you along a stone bridge, the winds quiet.
so quiet, in fact, that the archon stirred from his slumber early, reaching for his bow.
you never even made it to the city gates. the doves on the bridge hopped closer as you approached, the knights on duty watching how eagerly they pressed themselves against you. a nod, a twist, a chain of knights leading up to the headquarters, all set on edge the moment the acting grandmaster cleared them to engage.
the first casualty was a bird. it had flung itself into the air, halting the arrow in its tracks, drawing your attention to the man standing atop the city wall. another bird died before you understood his crime.
leaves dappled the ground in shades of green, warm light falling on you as you ran. you didn’t know where you were going, really, and why would you? who had a contingency plan for when everyone they loved turned away? the river tumbled over smoothed rocks, the bright beacon of the statue of the seven pleading for forgiveness even as it’s archon wanted you dead.
mondstat was the city of freedom. could it still be called that when you bled out before you could reach the border?
you couldn’t die. literally, you couldn’t. ley lines converged where you were crossed, absorbing the dissipating flakes of your physical body. the earth hummed beneath the anemo archon’s feet as he watched divine blue blood be sucked up and swept away. was it a hallucination? how would he know?
elemental energy coursed through the earth, sprouting again at the geo through which it bled, releasing the holy light it carried and supplementing with its own. within the hour your eyes opened again, unsure whether to pray it was a dream or wonder which god could hear you.
liyue, nation of geo. the stone hummed beneath your feet, though you didn’t walk toward the city. you’d learned your lesson fast, and a spear to the gut would certainly take longer to kill than an arrow to the neck. not that it mattered, of course—the adepti are too in tune with the land to not have noticed your arrival.
as it turned out a spear does hurt more, which you learned when you found it sprouting from your stomach in the split second before the pain hit. bright jade stained blue, betrayal glimpsed in the dying eyes of the one alatus once called his savior.
and it began anew.
teyvat bubbled with anger, torn between enacting vengeance on those that hurt its maker and protecting you. you were taken to places of shelter, but people learned to follow where nature raged loudest. even if they didn’t, if storms kicked up in false alarm to draw them away, intuition toward their creator was sewn into the hems of every living creature. hilichurls could only hold up for so long, and the millelith were used to dealing with vishaps. the dense forests of sumeru were memorized by the most vigilant forest watcher, the consecrated beasts in the desert too big to keep up with the agility of the general mahamatra.
how cruel for you to die like this, at the hands of the ones you should have been able to trust. how cruel for you to die at all, stabbed in the back by those who should have worshipped you.
the one on your throne was tolerated, just barely so, rationalized as the people needing an idol to follow in your continued absence. but now you were here, now they had no reason to be, and visions began to go haywire whenever they entered the throne room. boars outran hunters, trees tangling over boots as nature wrought vengeance on behalf of its god.
you were everything.
every scholar sought to understood your world further, your spirit found in every star in the sky. to study the world was to study you, how every string was woven into the universe. when you looked to the earth the soil said hello, the trees bowing before their creator, and yet your most beloved artwork was the one that hated you the most. was it hubristic to think a mortal could truly kill a god, or pathetic that they believed the fraud so quickly? they didn’t have elemental energy buzzing at their fingertips, they didn’t have the respect of the world, only commanding people, those easily swayed by a similar face and lucky coincidences. they were nothing like you, you who held galaxies in your blood, you who created the sky and the seas and the creatures within, who created everything. who was everything.
…and now you were nothing. lost in the ley lines that frantically searched for a place to host your body, outrunning the hunt for the god of all. nothing, half conscious in the heart of the earth, within a cave that had cracked open for this very purpose. hidden, the entrance sealed by stone itself, only allowing in slimes that helped sustain you. how cruel, the skies wept, torrents of rain falling in punishment. the fraud barely left the palace anymore, which was only standing thanks to reinforcement from the geo archon. were it not for their lie, they would be dead a thousand times over, killed in every way you had.
but they were in the palace, hidden where the world could not reach. so stone cradled your body, carefully ensuring you still continued to breathe, leylines redirecting to offer energy. not awake, not asleep, stuck in a stasis while hell raged around you.
it’s alright. teyvat would have its revenge eventually. lightning would find its way into the palace, someone would bring something carrying elemental energy into the throne room, something. the fake would die and you would be born anew from the earth, weak and tired but alive, most importantly.
anemo brushes off dust that begins to settle in your clothes, hydro doing its best to soothe the cracks on your lips. geo rolls you over so you don’t bruise, dendro adjusting its net of vines to keep you stable.
eventually…
#genshin#genshin impact#sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#genshin self aware au#angst#?#genshin angst#sagau angst#fuck help how do i tag#genshin imposter au#sagau impostor au#sagau isekai#gender neutral reader#gn reader#??? help#cyno and nari and xiao and li are techno mentioned but??#ah fuck it we ball#if we die we die#the title makes no fucking sense god#whatever whatever we live we laugh we love. we stay silly.
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Undead Unluck Characters and Their Puns
This is gonna be a very long post so please bear with me, guys. I love languages and this is my domain so.
I will only add the appropriate information for the puns depending on how simple or complex it is.
List will be based on their negation ability reveals (or introductions, I'm inconsistent) up until the latest chapter so anime-onlys be warned!
Fūko Izumo (出雲風子, Izu-mo Fuu-ko)
Unluck (不運, fu-un)
Her pun is rather simple. The kanji 雲, meaning cloud, can be read as "un", while 風, meaning wind, is straightforward in the fact that it sounds similar to "fu" as in 不.
Simply put, her name can be read as "Fu-Un" just like her ability!
There's also the bonus cloud + wind combo.
Andy (アンディ, Andi)
Undead (アンデッド, andeddo)
This one is already explained by Fūko lol.
Void Volks (ボイド・ボルクス, Boido Borukusu)
Unavoidable
Avoid.
Gina Chamber (ジーナ • チェンバー, Jiina Chenbaa)
Unchange (アンチェンジ, anchenji)
Hers is actually a really fun one. It got my head scratching until I read the manga in Japanese lol.
Simply reverse it into "Chamber Gina" then cut out the first syllable of each name. "Chen" and "Ji", which becomes "Chenji" as in "Change"!
Rip Tristan (リップ • トリスタン, Rippu Torisutan)
Unrepair
Rip as in the "rip-air" in "repair".
Top Bull Sparx (トップ • ブル • スパークス, Toppu Buru Supaakusu)
Unstoppable
Stop.
Tatiana (タチアナ, Tachiana)
Untouchable (アンタッチャブル, antacchaburu)
"Tachi" in "Tachiana" is a pun for "Tacchi" as in "Touch"!
Chikara Shigeno (重野力, Shige-no Chikara)
Unmove (不動, fudou )
His is also very fun, I only noticed it during the undercover high school arc where his name was written in Ryo's notebook and Nico held it up.
The kanji for move is 動 which consists of the kanji 重 from his surname and 力 from his first name.
This one is really smart, actually.
Akira Kuno (久能 明, ku-nou akira) / Un Anno (安野雲, an-no un)
Unknown (不明, fumei )
His first name of "Akira"'s kanji (明) can be read as "mei" as in "fumei".
Un Anno has already been explained within the story, it just sounds like "unknown".
Sean Datz (ション • ダッツ, shon dattsu)
Unseen
Sean looks like "seen", that's the whole pun. But the "depre-sean" and "damna-sean" jokes really get me lol.
Lucy (ルーシー, ruushii)
Unhealthy (アンヘルシー, anherushii)
Still debatable if it was a joke or she's an actual negator. But considering how she can astral project and see other's astral projection, and Nico (when his ability hasn't manifested) couldn't, it's more likely she is one.
"Ruushii" from "anherushii".
Nico Vorgeil (ニコ • フォーゲイル, niko fougeiru)
Unforgettable
Vorgeil sounds like Forget.
I honestly thought he was named Nico as in "Nicotine" because he smoked a lot. Turns out he was named after Nikola Tesla. Oops.
Ichico Nemuri (イチコ • ネムリ)
Unsleep
I love hers so much. Her name is written entirely in katakana instead of kanji, which means it can be read in multiple ways.
The "Ichi" in "Ichico" can be read as "one" as a counterpart to the "Ni" in "Nico" which can mean "two". Add them together, and you can get "three", which can be "Mi-tsu" and the "Mi" as in "Mico"!
Nemuri on its own can be read as "眠り", which means "to sleep" but it can also be read as a combination of "nemu" (sleeping) and "muri" (impossible/unreasonable) which means "unable to sleep".
Backs/Bunny (バックス, bakkusu)
Unback
We don't really have much info but it's obvious the "backs" is from "back".
Phil Hawkins (フィル • ホーキンス, firu houkinsu)
Unfeel (アンフィール, anfiiru )
Phil. Feel. Mind blown.
Tella (テラー, teraa )
Untell
Tella.
Characters I haven't figured out the pun yet or unsure about:
• Shen Xiang (シェン • シアン, shen shian) - Untruth
I'd say it's because it sounds similar but not really to "shin" as in 真 meaning truth?
• Mui (ムイ) - Untruth
It could be "mu" as in "none"? Because she's not a negator or... Something else.
• Juiz d'Arc (ジュイズ • ダルク, juizu daruku) - Unjustice (アンジャスティス, anjasutizu)
I guess it's because of anjasutizu?? Not sure.
• Creed Deckard (クリード • デッカード, kuriido dekkaado) - Undecrease (デクリーズ, dekuriizu)
My best bet is "de" from his surname and "kurii" from his first name, but then that makes it "dekurii" instead. So idk.
• Sadako Kurusu (来栖 貞子, Kuru-su Sada-ko) / Kururu (クルル) - Unchaste
I really don't know. Except maybe the "kuru" in her name means "arrive" as in her targets rushing onto her?
• Yusai (友才) - Undraw
Exposing myself as a fake fan because I have no idea.
• Isshin (一心) / Haruka Yamaoka (山岡 春歌, yama-oka haru-ka)
I might be stupid.
• Billy Alfred (ビリー • アルフレッド, birii arufureddo) - Unfair/Unbelievable
The only possibility I could think of is because readers were told that his ability was "unbelievable". I can't really find a connection between his name and "unfair". Unless it's the fact that his name doesn't have a pun, hence breaking the status quo of having name puns, that makes it unfair. But maybe I'm just reaching.
• Feng Kowloon (ファン • クローン, fan kuroon) - Unfade
I keep on accidentally reading his name as "fan clone" and I can't figure out a pun (if that was even one) other than that...
• Latla Mirah (ラトラ • ミラー, ratora miraa) - Untrust (アントラスト, antorasuto)
It could be the "tora" in "ratora" as in "torasuto". But I'm not really sure.
• Enjin (円陣, en-jin) Unburn
Enjin sounds like "engine", yeah, but I can't really see the pun.
• Victor (ヴィクター, vikutaa) - Undead
I'm not even sure if there is a pun here other than "victor" as in "victory" as in "winner".
Bonus:
The logo for "Under" is literally just the 不 kanji flipped upside down.
Idc about Ruin.
•••
If any of y'all know any new info, feel free to add on in the tags!
#undead unluck#long post#not sure what else to tag#i am NOT tagging each and every character#maybe#fuuko izumo#for good measure#and#andy undead unluck#ah fuck it we ball#void volks#gina chamber#rip tristan#top bull sparx#tatiana#chikara shigeno#akira kuno#anno un#sean datz#undead unluck lucy#nico vorgeil#ichico nemuri#undead unluck backs#undead unluck phil#undead unluck tella#shen xiang#undead unluck mui#juiz d'arc#i ran outta tags oops#meow posts
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doodles
#ft me trying to figure out lances hair#sve#rsv#farmer oc#uhhhdgdh do i tag or not#ah fuck it we ball#rsv maive#sve lance#sve claire#sve sophia#erugh#woomyart
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Ya know, Bowes probably wanted to give his evil dude a funny backstory about turning evil because he was Mildly Inconvenienced,
but I’ve been thinking.
I was walking to work on Monday morning. Like. Really early, when everything’s still out and about because humans are not yet out and about, and...
The thing is, the place has been split into areas which are being sold off or auctioned. Within a few years, the area will have lost everything that made it, well, it. We’re quasi the last bastion of some sort of resemblance of wilderness in the near, if we don’t count a couple forests where you better not go wandering alone. It’s a place where you step off the bus, climb down the stairs, and suddenly you’re in a completely different world.
And that world is going fast. That first sunshine of the day between the trees is going to be lost the moment the bulldozers come in. Those birds will be gone together with the trees. Those wildflowers that there are MEADOWS AND MEADOWS of are going to be gone and replaced by some parking lot, or some apartment building where a studio apartment costs more than what you earn in 10 years. Those foxes who are being stupid insolent and curious will be gone. The deer will be gone. The hares will be gone, and there will no longer be trail of “dicks” in the fresh fallen snow (if there will be fresh fallen snow). Yes, there are deer and hares. The local duck family will no longer waddle across the road in the evenings to feast on grass in the meadows. No more trees, no more mice, no more hedgehogs, or obnoxious blackbirds, or loads of titmice. No more dumbass birbs who are too damn horny to notice you coming closer, so you kinda just... step over the idiot as it sits there screaming in the middle of the path. No more silence and serenity. No more birdsongs. No more fresh air, just... exhaust gasses and dust.
And then you’re walking through it all while it’s still there, and...
yeah, you suddenly understand the stupid imaginary evil wizard who was Mildly Inconvenienced because a city was built.
#Uupiic talks about stuff#do I even tag this as that?#ah fuck it we ball#gloryhammer#Keeper Of The Celestial Flame Of Abernethy
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Me when me and my friend make ourselves into Ryan and Shane Watcher Variants
See, we’re Seeker!! Omw to convince @phosphorus-noodles that ghosts aren’t real while yelling at said ghosts.
BONUS
#oc art#art#persona#oc#digital art#I blame drawfee for the style of this poster#do I tag this as watcher??? bc it’s not but at the same time???#Seeker#ah fuck it we ball#Watcher
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Devil's Favours - James March x Reader
summary & wordcount: 4.9K! originally chosen as the party favour for James' Devil's Night celebration, reader is quickly snatched away by James March, who would rather have his own fun with her than let the others kill her.
w a r n i n g s: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! dark fic, dub-con, slight non-con, conflicted reader, sexual confusion, mild gore & blood, graphic descriptions, violence, aggression, bodily fluids, mentions of other real serial killers, smut, rough sex,overstimulation, body worship (reader with greek goddess body type), murder, reader death.
a/n: sorry for this, I'm mentally unwell. not beta read, so if it's horrid and clunky, I'm sorry!!! also, I think this is the last taglist I'll be doing, RIP. It's just such a pain in the rear end, and half the time, it doesn't even work.
full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /
After a long day of travelling, sleep was the only thing on your mind. That said, you were in desperate need of a bath, something relaxing. This was, afterall, a vacation. You twisted the ceramic knob on the hot water, and stuck your hand under it. With a hiss, you withdrew your hand – usually, water took a minute to reach temperature. This one? Scalding hot within a few seconds. Dangerously so. You twisted the knob on the cold side, evening them out until they’d reached a less skin-melting combination, and shed your clothes. You’d only been in there for thirty minutes or so before someone began rapping their knuckles against your door. Persistently. Very persistently.
“Just a minute!” you called from the bathroom, hoping your voice travelled. You reached for one of the towels – meticulously embroidered with the hotel’s logo – and wrapped it hurriedly around your torso. “Hang on!”
Quickly rummaging around in your suitcase and swearing under your breath that you had packed more, you searched for something to wear. Feeling pressured and running out of time, you settled on a cream coloured silk slip. Hardly modest with your plenteous figure, but the knocking continued and that seemed more important than decency. You hurried to the door, yanking it open with an air of annoyance. The vexation melted away when you were met with a man who looked more like he belonged on a silver screen than he did standing in front of you.
“Good evening.” He said, dipping his head down in a courteous display.
“…Can I help you?”
His lips stayed together, but curved into a subtle smirk. Though it was an unintentional pick; he’d chosen well; your delectable form was as if it was carved by Gods themselves. The look in your eyes told him that you were so alive, so vivacious that any bloodshed that would happen would be akin to art. His eyes were immediately lost on you, exploring your body and face with a fervid fascination. Feeling exposed, you pulled at the silken straps, bringing the neckline of the nightgown higher up on your body. Your cleavage protested, the fabric puckering across the voluminosity of your breasts.
All this time, he’d been silent, and you arched an expectant brow, wondering just what it was that you were to help him with. This man was… peculiar. From his fancy dressage to the articulate, over-pronounced way he spoke, his idiosyncrasies both alarmed and fascinated you.
“Indeed,” he affirmed. He’d made his decision; you were the one for the night. And he’d have you, whether you came willingly or not.
“My name is James March — I’m the owner of this impressive hotel in which you now stand.” He paused, expectantly as if that was enough for you to throw your arms up and consent to whatever he was asking. When you didn’t, he added: “I need you to come with me. Urgently.”
You squinted, scanning his motivations. A warm, gentle smile stretched across his lips, framed by his pencil thin mustache. His hand rose, fingers uncurling in front of you. There was something unnervingly come-hither about his gaze. Would he have introduced himself with malicious intentions? Surely not — that could lead to identifying him later on. But he could’ve given you a fake name, perhaps…
Unable to resist his passé seduction and against (likely) better judgement, your hand floated up into his, resting delicately against his palm. His fingers closed around yours, lingering a moment before guiding you out of your room, allowing the heavy door to swing shut behind you. He began leading you briskly down the hallway.
“I forgot my key, wait I –”
“Worry not, my dear. We’ll have another made for you, should you need it.”
Should I need it? You thought. Why wouldn’t I need it? Of course I’ll need my key, I’m walking down the hallway in nothing but a nightgown.
You trodded barefoot down the halls, listening to the sounds as you passed them. The hotel, you noticed, creaked and breathed with a life of its own. Whether the rooms were occupied wasn’t known, but they sounded as if they were.
As soon as you two got to a door, only a few down from your own, he reached for the handle and instantly, as soon as he did; something felt wrong. Something felt… sinister and the feeling took over like a gelatinous sludge. You tried to yank your hand away but James sternly jerked you the opposite way — back towards him. With a throaty growl, he wrapped both arms around your torso, holding you fast in a steel grip so that try as you might, you couldn’t dislodge yourself from his grasp. His strength proved too much for your feeble, sleepy muscles.
After shouldering the door open, James carried you inside. In a moment of panicked clarity, you tried to peek around and identify anything you could. The stern way that his hand was plastered on your forehead, holding it against his shoulder, you could really only see the ornate ceiling above you.
You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that burned at the corners of your eyes. This was it. You’d gone this far in life without being mugged, raped, or killed… today was the day it would change. Your track record would end. Abruptly. Terrifyingly. Your chest shuddered with an uneven, hysterical breath. At least he was handsome. No, shut up. That’s not the kind of thought you want to be thinking.
Suddenly, your body dropped forward and you were spun around harshly, his grip still tight on the fleshy meat of your arms. Then, as though he was a lover and not your soon-to-be-murderer, he eased your back against a wooden chair with one hand, delicately, suddenly concerned with hurting you, like you were some kind of easily-bruised fruit.
“Good girl, sit there.”
At his praising words, your core twinged, tightening. No, no. Stop it. Clenching your teeth, you quashed the thought before it went any further.
His right hand snatched something from a nearby table before holding it proudly, stretching it out for you to see; rope. Unconsciously, your head began shaking back and forth. As the realisation sunk in, your heart rate picked up, thudding against your ribcage.
“N-no, no… no please.”
With the rope still in hand, James got to one knee in a familiar pose. His lightless eyes floated up to yours, staring into them deeply. Now in front of you, his cock twitched within his trousers, a carnal instinct tugging like an incessant child. He brushed the pads of his fingers along the smooth curves of your knees, your calves, your ankles…
Damn. You – obviously – were a woman with needs, so his feather-light touch awoke something deep within your core again. This time though, it didn’t take you reversing the arousal. The shiny tip of his shoe knocked your feet apart, lining them up with the legs of the chair. She clenched harder.
“What are you doing?” You asked, tensely. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He paused to answer, straightening up. “Securing you, my dear. A struggle is inevitable.”
“What!? Inevitable for what?!”
He didn’t answer. Hastily working, his large but nimble hands wrapped the rope around the smallest part of your ankles, knotting the rope against the chair. Your wrists came next, and those were tied much tighter; the fibres of the rope ground against your soft skin, already causing a burning friction.
With a sudden, powerful pull at the bindings, testing their security, James was finished. He was confident in his knotting, you wouldn’t get away. Humming to himself, he dragged the chair through an archway, into another, much larger room. You were facing a table – it was ornately set with a large contraption in the middle. You recognised it as an absinthe fountain, the bright green liquid in the container seemed to glow. You didn’t want to be a part of whatever this was, even as attractive as that man was.
“Please,” you begged. “Please, I just… I want to go back to my room. Let me go.”
“Let you go?” James echoed in a mockingly high tone. He seemed offended that you’d even desire such a thing. It was a pleasure — a privilege — to be invited to his dinners. “No…. You’re staying with me. Right here.”
He pat your thigh before moving to the head of the table. For the first time since you’d been brought in, you took a moment to look around, to take in your surroundings instead of him. Immediately, you whimpered in disbelief — met with such a visual that you almost immediately thought you were hallucinating. You blinked away the tears and sniffed, pressing your lips tightly together.
It was truly bone-chilling to see all of the worst eyes on you. The eyes that had seen the most foul crimes and atrocities in human history were now looking at you; the bound beauty with her sweat-soaked strands of hair stuck to your forehead and fear in your eyes. John Wayne Gacy, Richard Ramirez, Jeffrey Dahmer….
“She’s shakin’ like a god damn leaf!” Aileen Wuornos howled, before finishing off the rest of her beer. She slammed it on the table, the clatter made you jump. She doesn’t want me, you thought. I’m not her enemy. Still, you knew that you’d been sat at a table full of people — true monsters — who even if they didn’t want to kill you, they’d take great pleasure in watching you writhe in agony as the others stole your last breath from your lungs.
Though they were all equally terrifying, you were most horrified by Richard. He sat directly next to James, picking absently at his nails. His sunken, snake eyes followed every move you made; watching you with a hunger that made your skin crawl. Considering the circumstances, it was laughable to say that one made you feel unsafer than the others — but he did. Logically, how he preyed upon women must’ve played into your distaste for him. He held your gaze, peering into your thoughts with a vicious lack of consent, as he behaved with every woman he came in contact with. Finally, he spoke.
“I’ve waited long enough, Jimmy — can we kill her?” He said, sucking something out of his rotting teeth. He made a move as though he was going to get up.
You snapped your head to James, brows knit together in pleading. The visual surprised you. He, like the rest of the dinner party, had been staring at you, but instead of the feral, blood hungry gaze you expected, his eyes had gone glassy. He sucked his cheeks in, deep in thought. Beneath the dark fabric of his dress pants, heat blanketed his groin. You captivated him; the way your precious little eyes flitted back and forth in terror like a deer, the way your pulse thrummed in your neck, beating like a drum. He wanted you for his own — and only his own. Keeping his motives hidden, James stood up, smoothing out the fabric of his suit jacket.
“No,” he crooned. “No, we can’t. I’m afraid I’ve had a change of heart… this one… belongs to me.”
You jerked your head in confusion, while grumbles of disappointment bounced off the walls. Ramirez said something sickening and Gacy let out a horrible, guttural chuckle. You strained against the rope, somehow trying to put more distance between you and them. James sliced his hand through the air to silence them both.
“Miss Wuornos,” he abruptly purred. “Go find us a dashing young man keen to join our party!”
“Ohohoh…. Lil’ ol’ me? Find a man? I’m gonna’ be frolickin’ in the fuckin’ daisy fields with this one. Be back!”
“Pl-please.” You begged. Your lips parted, allowing desperate promises to fall from between them. You wouldn’t tell anyone, you’d never come back here, you wouldn’t remember anything, you promised, you would never speak a word of this to anyone… You looked to James, who regarded you affectionately, but patronisingly, his lower lip jutted out in a faux-pout. He’d heard all this before, and it was of no concern to him. He’d made up his mind. It was his god damned birthday and he was going to have you all to himself.
Your begging fell on seemingly deaf ears, nobody bothered to entertain you. Your teary, burning eyes flitted to Ramirez, who was smiling his ugly, decaying smile at you, leaning forward in his seat. “I dunno’, she promises, Jimmy… maybe we should let her go.”
You shivered, grinding your wrists against the rope. Anger blanketed you. “Fuck off, weirdo.”
“Who you callin’ weirdo, bitch?”
“YOU!” You barked, straining. “I can smell your rancid breath from here. Had to kill all those women just because none of them would ever come within ten fucking feet of you!”
“Now, now… manners. She’s a lively one, isn’t she?” His mouth bent in a proud smirk, James looked to Richard, who was still bristling from the comment. He really wanted to kill you. Delighted at the fact that James had seemingly given you immunity, you wiggled happily in your chair, fighting the urge to stick your tongue out. You didn’t want to test him, though, and so you remained silent, watching instead.
Silence was broken as the door opened. With a little thrashing, almost as desperate as your own had been, Aileen shoved a man — couldn’t have been more than 30 — inside. It didn’t take her long to find someone. In fact, it was like she opened the door, spotted him meandering by and dragged him back inside.
The guy noticed you first. Second, he noticed that you were tied to the chair so tightly that red marks on your wrists and ankles had begun to develop. Thirdly, he noticed the others, his eyes drifting slowly and visibly disturbed by who sat at the table.
“Woah… what the fuck is this?” He asked.
“A good fuckin’ time is what it is.” One of them said. You didn’t care which. Blisteringly hot tears streamed down your face, stinging your cheeks. What were the stages of grief? You felt like you were cycling through them in rapid succession.
“Fucking let me go!” You howled, thrashing your torso back and forth, which did little to relieve anything. With a distressed expression plastered upon his face, the guy looked from you to the other guests and back, before nervously putting his hands up, taking one step back towards the door. “Hey, is she okay?”
“N—!“ James was suddenly behind you, cupping his hand over your mouth, pressing the tips of his fingers hard into your cheek flesh. His lips moved quickly, whispering hotly into your ear. “Hush now, don’t spoil the surprise for him. Let him find out on his own.”
“She’s fine, the hors d’oeuvres didn’t agree with her.” Aileen barked, towing the guy towards the table. She shoved him down into the only unoccupied seat.
“Dinner… is served.” James said.
In unison, they all stood up. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor echoed in your head. Like syncronised swimmers, they all descended upon him, armed with whatever weapon they’d chosen. You hadn’t known the guy, but he had enough sympathy for you to make you cry at what was happening to him. He’d had a life, family… feelings. None of which mattered to him anymore, or perhaps that’s exactly what he was thinking about. Perhaps your entire life really did flash before your eyes before you died.
You let out a scream that burned on its way out. It ached and tore and ripped its way up your windpipe as the shrill, bloodcurdling sound filled the room. It was louder than his, and louder than the sounds that were currently coming from the gaping, gargling hole in his throat.
Gacy moved from his side, allowing you a brief glimpse. Torn flesh hung from his shoulders and blood had almost completely covered the front of his body. You closed your eyes and turned your head away, rolling your lips inward and biting down. It was fucked up, and you weren't going to absorb any more of it.
“Sweet dreams, my little pet.” James said, in front of you. You turned your head towards the sound, but were met with blackness.
A dull throbbing on the side of your head was what eventually pulled you awake, forcing your cinder-block weighted lids to peel apart. You looked around; an odd, minimally decorated room. Dark. Your head wobbled as you turned it left, then right, met with the same visual — your arms suspended high above your head, and rope again, at your wrists. You licked your lips and tasted metal. In your blurred vision, you noticed red flecked along your breasts. The ache on the side of your head was more than just an ache, it seemed.
Your consciousness ebbed, fading in and out. Sleep was comforting, the idea of it cradling you in its arms like a baby. You wanted so badly to sleep… just for a moment. Somewhere inside, you heard authoritative voices, advising against sleep. Concussions… sleep… sleep is bad… keep the individual conscious. And so you fought against the cool, towering shadow, turning your head away from nothing in particular. You couldn’t hear anything outside of your own laboured breathing, and the creak of the rope every time you decided to move. Nothing. Not even the muted voices of the monsters.
Time meant nothing, you lost track of how long you’d been hanging there when you’d finally heard the creak of a heavy door. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly before wrenching them open. You weren’t sure if the crushing weight you felt was the looming weight of death as it shrouded you, or merely the physical strain of your body being suspended for hours. You knew people could eventually die from suspension. Their lungs caved in or something. The tips of your toes barely touched the floor, your big toe grazing the cold, concrete floor every time your body swayed softly.
With your head hanging between your shoulders, your muscles quivered as you lifted it, just in time to see the door in front of you shut. James, standing in front of it, reached for a black leather apron that hung on a hook. Before slipping it over his head, he flashed you a charming smile, pleased to see that you hadn’t expired yet. Reaching behind him to tie it around his waist, he approached you. The light from the wall sconces reflected against the fabric dully.
“Ah, there you are.” He crooned.
You intended a scream, but could do nothing but whimper. You swallowed repeatedly, a feeble attempt to wet your dried out throat. James drug a single finger along your soft jawline, trailing it down your neck, and along your collarbone. You were drenched in sweat, streaks of it descending your face and neck.
The sudden ferocity in which he gripped your face made it sting, his thumb and forefinger digging into the bone of your jaw. He quirked a brow. You opened your mouth and although your throat was already raw, you finally screamed. You screamed again, angrily, and held his cold, black gaze. Your ragged shrieks filled the room over and over again as you tried, desperately, to wrench your hands free from the ropes.
Regrettable, James thought as his soulless eyes hungrily took in your form as it quivered and thrashed around. You were built like a Greek goddess, soft curves in all the right places, begging to be touched, worshipped.
“Aaaah,” He exhaled, frustratedly. “You’re almost too pretty to kill.”
“Then — DON’T! Fucking let me GO! AaaarhhhH!” You yanked at the ropes again, thrashing around until a deep pain in your shoulder began to burn. You cried out, letting your body go slack.
With a deep breath, you mustered up all your strength again, finding every drop of it within your tired body, and leaned forward to scream directly in his face. The result? He was wholly unphased by your screams. If anything, it seemed like he enjoyed them. Each one sounded a little more desperate than the last, and it only fuelled him further.
You decide to try a new, last-ditch tactic. Sore mouth contorting into a scowl, you gathered a mouthful of saliva and blood, hot and irony on your tongue and lunged forward, spitting it at him. The glob hit him square in the face, dripping slowly down towards his jaw.
“What, is it hard to focus?” You croaked. Your words were slurred, messy with the pain of the head wound. “Didn’t think you’d want to fuck me as bad as you do, huh?”
James’ dark eyes narrowed, the muscles underneath twitching faintly. He had in fact picked you, and therefore had to accept all of your fiery little quips as they came – but that one… that one had caught him off guard.
“You…” You narrowed your eyes, the fibres of the rope squeaking as you leaned towards him, your lips inches from his face. “…want to fuck me so bad, you can’t think. Look at you. You think your apron hides it?”
With brows raised, James glanced at his groin. Had he really been betrayed by his own body, so early on? Though he felt the warmth and stiffness increasing between his legs, there was no visual indication. James calmly brought his hand to his face, collecting the bloodied spit on his fingertips. With a reticent gaze, he brought them down between your legs, harshly knuckling the nightgown out of the way.
He smeared them roughly on your cunt. Your own fluids. The ones that you had just spit at him. Not only that, but he proceeded to tease your sensitive nerves with his fingers, pulling a confused gasp from your throat. Part of you had been bluffing, you weren’t entirely sure that he had wanted you —
James pulled back an inch to look at you again. Aside from your luscious body, your complexion was mottled with exhaustion, lips dry with fear, hair frazzled and bloody on one side. To him, it was a horrific sculpture of divinity. One that he had created in such little time with such little effort. The perfect, ample curves of your breasts were dotted with crimson, having dripped from the gash on your head. They jiggled delicately with each desolate shake you gave.
With his free hand, he took hold of your round, plush hips, his thumb working the softness like dough. He swung you towards him, pressing the pillowy tops of your thighs to his groin. Quickly, he identified a growing obsession with your body.
He loved it. All of it. In fact, he hadn’t seen a body as marvellously breathtaking as yours since his wife’s. Of course, it had been many years since he’d seen hers in any such manner, so the flames that licked at his desire were deprived, hungry ones. His mouth found yours, lips crushing against yours. His tongue, hot and strong, slipped in and beckoned yours to engage in an erotic dance.
He pulled your body closer, pressing it tightly against his. Though constricted by his trousers, you felt the bulging heat beneath his apron, and rubbed your thigh against it, teasing him. He groaned deeply in response, bucking his hips against you to force friction. After a few moments, James broke the kiss, panting heavily over your tender, swollen lips.
“Pl-please… don’t kill me… please…”
The back of his hand whipped across your mouth, hitting you so hard that the world sparkled when you opened your eyes again. Your face burned with the contact.
“Enough of that now! Say it again, and I’ll do just that!”
The harshness in his voice stunned you. Up until that point, he’d been using his syrupy, serenading voice — the one he had used to charm you into coming with him. Now, he bellowed, an unexpected violence. Silence hung heavy between you as he waited, baited you to beg for life once more. You didn’t speak again, but your sobs continued.
Finally, his hand dropped between your legs again. Your clit ached, burned with the way his fingers fondled it, but he didn’t stop. Your poor, exhausted body trembled beneath his touch, doing all it could to express arousal. Salty droplets streamed from your hairline into your eyes, stinging as they absorbed.
“Would you rather die?” he asked, suddenly.
“Wh-what? N-no… I d-don’t want to die…”
“That’s not what I meant, my little ember. I meant… would you rather die than be pleasured? I, of course, can arrange that.”
You hesitated a moment, but finally, shook your head.
At this thoughtful confession, James angled forward, plunging a single finger inside of you, past the knuckle. The digit wiggled inside of you briefly, before sliding back out slowly. He held it up for you both to see. “Oh,” he growled.
His finger was generously coated in clear slick. Your body had betrayed you.
Wordlessly, he untied the apron, tossing it carelessly to the side – it hit the floor with a heavy flop. Then, those same nimble fingers began unbuttoning and unzipping, until they gripped his rigidness, pumping it slowly for further stimulation. His chest heaved with wanton, desiring breaths as he stared at you, hanging there, with your warm, ample body for his taking. James lined his dick up with your leaking slit, and pulled you harshly onto his cock, showing no mercy for how exhausted your body was.
Your cunt swallowed his cock whole, hungrily and desperately. His head fell back between his shoulders, a throaty groan coming from his open mouth. He began thrusting, slow at first. The ease of thrusting fascinated him; your body hung limp on the ropes and all James had to do was tug you forward, tug you in the direction he wanted you to go.
“You know, I’ve never taken a woman like this before - suspended in the air,” he said, breathily. “Exquisite.”
You mewled in response, snot dripping from your nose.
Soon, the room was filled with wet, slick thrusting and the thudding sound of his torso as it met yours. You came repeatedly, coating his thick, pale cock in fluids you didn’t even know your body could make. At one point, during a particularly vicious thrusting, a warm, watery liquid splashed down over your thighs. You screamed like he was killing you, though he felt better than any man you’d ever been with, pleasuring you in ways that left you feeling breathless.
Still, your body persisted with its aches. So far, you’d been successful in appealing to his sexual nature, and decided to try again.
“….please…. Let me down… I’ll… d-do anything you wa—
Suddenly, he backed up, pulling the head from your cunt with a slick pop. You panted; fragile, pitiful breaths, barely enough energy to lift your gaze. With his rigid cock bouncing in front of him, James untied your hands, allowing your heavy, enervated body to fall into his arms. You couldn’t help but cry into his shoulder as he carried you to some sort of surface, laying you carefully down atop it. Some streak of mercy had captured him, and you mouthed words of gratitude. Your entire body buzzed with relief, your muscles aching in a funny, tingling way.
James wasted no time in fucking you again; the tip was nearly scarlet, hungry for release. His hand compressed on your soft stomach, pressing down into it to increase the pressure of his cock as it drove deeper and deeper inside of you.
“You know how this ends, my dear.” When he spoke, it sounded far away. But you did. You knew. There was never any end to this besides the one that you’d envisioned fearfully. He leaned to the side, retrieving a small, but very, very sharp blade from a nearby metal table. You watched numbly as James lifted the knife above your neck.
His hips pumped rhythmically, bringing you both closer to the fiery edge of ecstasy. Pulsing veins massaging your silklike insides, and another orgasm galloped towards you. Your body quivered, cold sweats taking over.
James whipped the knife across your perfectly warm neck, and instinctively, your hands went to the laceration. Bright crimson gushed out from the spaces between your fingers, and you felt a gushy warmth press against your digits. The inner workings of your throat, you realized. The gore of your own body, pressing back against you in its heat. James laid one hand over yours, seemingly just to feel the blood as it spurted. With a deep, guttural moan, his cock twitched inside you just before it released, coating your insides.
She gasped, a wet gurgle. The light left her eyes, gradually, but beautifully. The pulses of blood eventually ebbed to a dull trickle. As his thrusts slowed, he expelled a long sigh – killing both excited him and depressed him. On one hand; it brought exhilaration, delight and sheer unadulterated arousal. On the other however, you only truly got to do it once. Certainly, you could kill a ghost a million times over, but the effect wasn’t the same.
For a moment, James’ expression contorted into one of regret; when you returned in your new spectral form, you’d likely not want to spend time with him. Yet another woman who loathed his presence roaming the hallways, avoiding him. But perhaps, he still wouldn’t mind having you stuck with him for all eternity, if only to gaze upon your perfect form whenever you’d let him. With matching wounds, at that. A true romantic.
t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser / @stveharringtn / @fear-is-truth
#fuck it we ball#James Patrick March#James Patrick March x you#James Patrick March x reader#james march x reader#ahs smut#ahs fanfiction#AHS Hotel#American Horror Story Hotel#myfics
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College baseball au, calling it “Fuck It We Ball.”
I’ve already got a pretty good idea of sniper and pyro’s character with this: 2 kids who were raised by the older mercs and now are mature enough on their own
uncle spy’s their least favorite, a la “look at that high waited man he got feminine hips” mutual hatred. but the two picked up baseball bc of his weird interest in it.
#tf2#team fortress 2#tf2 scout#tf2 sniper#tf2 pyro#tf2 heavy#tf2 medic#tf2 engineer#tf2 engie#yes heavymedic parents for sniper imagine shooting an orphan bringing him back to life and then deciding “ah well guess this is my kid now#like anti Frankenstein basically#heavymedic#my art#tf2 au#Fuck It We Ball
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repostober day whatever today is. anyway, you ever drop acid in the middle of the woods? lol me neither, that'd be CRAZYYYY...
#these are a year old at this point but gosh it was fun#we rented a cabin on a lake#fidgetwing#drug ment#drug ment tw#i drew so many pictures and then i played hatsune miku rhythm game and i KILLED#i had just opened the app to look at the pretty pictures and then my friends like#kept spamming co-op invites at me and so i was like#fuck it ig we ball and i did GREAT i was getting the highest score every round#what a time#ah memories#lol anyway first day of work today--
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i'm gonna be brave and post all the high rollers i've drawn on ibis to fight my current inability to draw on my computer. i love this goober. this thing owns 95% of my brain currently. cathal artist becomes high roller artist and is very cool about it
#there's some sketches im still working on so there's gonna be More High Roller .#i know he has his shadow ninjitsu clones in stage 3 when his suit is black#but... white suit preatty too. i already drew them with the black suit in the first drawing so#spice it up a bit...!#hee heee#hirgrhr oelelrbgb.............#toontown#toontown corporate clash#high roller#guz art#oc art#frostbite#0 consistency in the style but who care fuck it we ball!!!!!!#hee heee :3#also can u tell i like balding this thing#bald! bald! bald ! bald ! (gives spamton esk hair) ah...
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youtube
I AM CRINGE BUT I AM FREE
#lmaoooo i reactivated my youtube channel just for this#i am cringe#THE ONLY REASON I MADE THIS IS BECAUSE I WAS SICK LAST WEEK#I HAD A FEVER AND DIDN'T CARE ABOUT CRINGE AND SHIT#i was vibing#not sick anymore so not sure about this but#ah well#fuck it we ball#also another one of my 60394 artstyles let's goooooooo#those galaxy backgrounds were fun to make#i feel kinda stupid for this buuuut at the same time#*happy leg bounce*#*climbs a wall*#*screeches* LOOK WHAT I MADE#13 year old me would be so proud omg#good omens#crowley#crawly#good omens fanart#crowley fanart
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🌱 we are so back promo!!!! 🌱
💛💛Hello everybody!! :3 Jane here! I was distracted for a while but now that I'm settled in with my partner I'm back and starting to focus on f/os again!💛💛
I have a variety of interests but right now I'm fixated on Pikmin, and I ship with Erma Shepherd from the fourth game, and my more detailed f/o list can be found here! I missed y'all and I hope I can get back into the swing with interacting and talking with folks here!
ps. yellow pikmin are my favorite!!
#jane journals#self insert talk#self ship#self shipping community#self insert comminity#self ship promo#self insert promo#hewwo everyone!!#pls feel free to tag me in smth or send me an ask or a dm for anything at all!!#i was gonna wait till i actually had some new ship art for u guys to post this#but ah fuck it#we ball!!
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ive had a persistent ache in my head and neck that has not gone away in 6 months and idk if this is just like,,,,a Thing I have to face will be part of My Life now or an actual problem that has a solution that will only get worse if I don't...do anything about it
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Here look i make a meme for the general vibe here
[ID: The KXCD comic of experts assuming something is general knowledge edited to be about transformers.
The first person says "Transformer names are second nature to us robot fuckers so it's easy to forget that the average person probably only knows Optimus Prime, Megatron, and one or two decepticons."
The second person says "And Bumblebee, of course."
The first agrees "Of course."
Caption at the bottom reads "Even when they're trying to compensate for it, fans of anything wildly overestimate the average person's familiarity with their field. END ID]
#some shit#its not called cisformers#ON ONE HAND. that is LITERALLY. what i knew like. 2 weeks ago. so. IT FEELS TAME. to me. low ball.#HOWEVER. i did talk to someone like well hey you know bumblebee. like how they made him in the movies. he doesnt speak and all that#and they were like. literally no i dont know that. 'i thought we watched the bumblebee movie together??' that wasnt me 'oh. nevermind then'#just send this back to at a later date. i'll... o7 hkdfbgjhbgfdfa. ah.. you know. walking into it.#i DIDNT know fucking any auto bots but bumblebee that really is the thing thats funny i think. are they less consitent over iterations??#ill find out ig.#last day of work is very busy. btw. obviously/sssssss
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nana × danger [221018]
#nana#kwon nayeon#woo!ah!#wooah#femaleidol#femadolsedit#femaleidolsedit#kgoddesses#idolady#underratedgirlsedit#kflops#ggnet#this kinda bad but fuck it we ball#mine
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Actually let me elaborate on this a bit more- There's a big issue in the fandom with infantilizing Gonta, especially in stuff made before 2020. Like, this problem is super well known. But even though I'd say its greatly improved nowadays, the more I've looked through Gonta fan art, the more I've started to notice a weird lack of serious pieces.
Using Kaito as a baseline of comparison, you see a lot of stuff focused on him being dumb, a force of positivity, and brave, but also stuff related to his sickness, his inability to ask others for help, and ch5. There's a good range of work you can find with him. On the other hand, with Gonta, most of the fanworks you can find focused on him are usually centered around how kind and positive he is, sometimes about him being a gentleman, sometimes about his connection to animals/bugs. It is pretty rare to see him in anything focused on ch4. Which is extremely surprising, considering that's his big chapter! With Kokichi as another primary focus! You'd think at least Kokichi's popularity would carry more fan stuff of ch4, but I just haven't seen that much.
A large part of this Is definitely due to him being a minor character who is not as popular as Kaito is, and I understand that that level of focus fandomwide isn't really realistic, and I'm biased by my preferences to the point of maybe not thinking realistically. But I do also think another reason is lingering infantilization of his character. People who understandably don't spend all day thinking about Gonta like I do just don't usually see deeper into his character past his naivete and cheerfulness.
I adore cute/sunshiney gonta art, I really really do, I make it all the time myself and will take as much as I can get. but I also wish so strongly that there was more focused on the more serious aspects of his character. Like his desire to be accepted by his birth family and seen as useful to his friends, his canonical *very explicit* self loathing, his bravery and desire to protect everyone even at the cost of his own life, and most of all, everything that happened to him in ch4.
#shut up me#probably gonna regret posting this tomorrow but ah. fuck it we ball#sorry if this makes no sense im tired
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Hide & Seek - jpm x reader!
summary: You check into the Hotel Cortez for a little R&R, only to have nightmares. Some of which, are real. Run, little mouse.
warnings & word count: 3.4K! James being James, hide and seek elements, chasing, hunting, implications of murder/death.
a/n: this was a quick drabble that got longer. sorry that there’s no smut, I’m unwell enough that James chasing me is arousing enough. idea/requested by @garykingz
full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /
On an impromptu vacation, you were going to be in Los Angeles for a week - visiting a friend for a few days. In truth, you'd taken the opportunity to get away from the humdrum of work for a little longer, wanting a relaxing escape from the drab nine to five lifestyle that you lived day in and day out. Initially, you'd picked the Hotel Cortez for its lower than usual rates, but were also charmed by its lavish interiors and intriguing history.
You'd checked in when it was sunny - a delicate, warm breeze floated through the Los Angeles streets, which was a stark difference once you got inside the doors; there was a damp chill that made your skin prickle. You chalked it up to bad air conditioning and made small talk about the weather with the lady who kindly took one of your bags. The rooms were outdated, but still possessed some charm. The lady, her name was Iris, had informed you that some of the rooms had been remodeled; this wasn't one of them.
You'd spent most of the night lazily unpacking, nursing a bottle of cheap champagne that you called up from room service. You'd called your friend, excitedly discussing the details of tomorrow's brunch at around 8 PM. When you'd finally fallen asleep, it was half past midnight and you weren't sure how long you'd slept before the horrible dreams started.
First, a haggard looking woman sat at the edge of your bed, her head in her hands as she sobbed hysterically. Though you tried desperately to comfort her, she shoved you off, muttering something about never getting out. After that, you tossed and turned, jostling that nightmare into something else. A man sewed into a mattress, gurgling and screaming for help as his body decayed, his slippery, slimy limbs clawing at the fibers, and women stood at the edge of your bed, covered in blood and laughing, angrily hissing words you didn't understand, judging you in their native tongue. The final dream was the worst, despite the unsettling nature of the last few, it was the most vivid, and the one that made your heart rate skyrocket.
Someone else was in your room with malicious intentions, watching you silently as you slept. Their inviting, persuasive energy drew you closer to them, scooting towards the edge of the bed. Your face contorted painfully in your sleep, head swishing back and forth on the pillow, sweat dotting your exposed skin.
James stood above you, watching you as frightening, troublesome visions plagued your subconscious and tormented your physical form. The Cortez effect still reigned supreme - good . Nobody slept well in these rooms unless he permitted it. And you... you, with all of your beauty, were thrashing about like a child. You were delightful, exquisite... everything he wanted in a victim. Skin flushed with fear, hair splayed out on the pillow in delicate locks. Your features, though you weren't, were vintage and reminded him of some of his favourite past kills. He leaned forward, hands reaching out your perfect, slender neck.
Cold, unsettling fingertips ghosted along the nape of your neck and you flinched away, throwing your leg from underneath the covers. When a hand came down on your mouth, your heavy lids snapped open. It wasn't a dream. A man - a very well-dressed man - hovered above you, his cool hand pressing against your lips, prepped for and successfully muffling the oncoming scream. Now realizing that you were awake, lightning fast, both arms wrapped around you, coiling around you like a snake and pulling you from your warm sheets. You let out a boisterous shriek and, surprising even yourself, wrestled free, throwing yourself back against the mattress. You climbed atop of it, standing higher than he was.
His hands slipped along the satin of your nightgown as you wrenched yourself from his arms; what a sly little thing you were . Your sudden departure from his grip surprised James, and unbeknownst to you, the element of surprise was deeply arousing to him. Ah, he’d picked a good one, yet again….
You let out a desperate yelp, tucking yourself into the corner where the walls met. “Get away from me! What the FUCK are you doing in my room?!”
“Ah, what a rarity you are! So lively!” His stance was challenging, anticipating your next move.
Your eyes peeled away from him for a split second, just to judge the distance between you and the door. It wasn’t far, not at all. Certainly, close enough that you could make it… with enough speed….
You decided to go for it; with a final breath and a desperate exertion of muscle, you leapt off the bed and charged towards the door, nearly collapsing against it. With fingers trembling, you threw the chain from its casing and unlatched the deadbolt before throwing the door open - running out so quickly that you almost stumbled into the barren hallway. Adrenaline coursing through your veins, you opened your mouth to let out a shrill scream, in hopes that someone, anyone, would hear you.
“Run, run, run!” From behind you, came his elated tone as he watched you bolt out the door, barefoot and clad in your silky, lacy nightgown. His joviality was disconcerting, to say the least.
It had been so long since he'd gotten his jollies with a good old fashioned chase. Nowadays, people were dull, heavy buffoons whose logic had diminished like their will to live, they possessed no natural instincts to hide, only scream and fall to the floor, flopping about like a dead fish. Naturally, he could’ve ended the game quickly, materializing in front of you and taking you into his arms at once. But there was hardly any sport, any fun in that idea….
So, he let you run. He let you run down the long hallway, shrieking for help. The door clicked shut, and through it, he heard your voice crack as you yelled, beating futilely on the door of some unsuspecting guest. Of course, no one would come to your aid. Everyone minded their own business in this hotel, and naturally no one would open the door to a screaming madwoman.
You tried the handle of a door. Locked. Fuck . You tried the one next to it, only to find it locked too. Shit. You took off down the hallway again, your bare feet padding against the ornately woven carpets. You hadn’t heard the door open, but didn’t want to waste any more time trying locked doors, so instead, you rounded the corner, finding that it looked just like the hallway from where you’d just come. The doors lined each side of you, seeming to go on forever. How people didn’t get lost in these god-forsaken hallways was beyond you; you nearly had when you checked in. Where was everybody? Was the hotel empty? Full?
You looked both ways and took off again, your muscles begging for relief as you ran to the left; the few moments of standing weren’t enough to soothe your aching legs. The fire burned your muscles as you ran, terror building in your stomach. You thought you heard the echo of his voice behind you…. But when you turned, there was nothing – nothing but doors.
“Jesus christ,” you whimpered, tears welling up. No. Now’s not the time to cry, suck it up.
You sniffed hard, silencing the sobs. You looked at the neverending doors, and still trembling, you tried the handle of the one nearest you. To your surprise, it turned freely. You snuck in, making sure to shut the door quietly behind you -- no more than a click of the latch.
The armoire seemed too obvious and easy of a hiding place, so you opted to crawl underneath one of the beds, albeit also obvious. The carpet smelled old, and there was a sliver of viewing space underneath the bedskirt. Watching the door with terrified eyes, you pressed your fingers into your mouth hard, silencing any breaths. The door opened moments later, and his polished shoes could be seen.
James knew you'd gone in here. He'd heard you. But where you went remained to be seen. He'd check the usual places; in hopes of finding his little escapist. His shoes moved around the bed, and you held your breath, closing your eyes. Perhaps this had been a stupid decision...
“Come out, come out wherever you are! There's nowhere to run where I won't find you!" His voice reverberated in the bathroom and your eyes snapped open, in relief. He whipped away the shower curtain, the shower rings clattering loudly on the metal pole. He peered inside. Empty. Drat.
Knowing he was momentarily occupied, you took that opportunity to crawl out from underneath the bed and run to the door, opening it as silently as possible. There was no doubt that he'd heard you again, as his footsteps clicked quickly on the tile. Directly opposite from you, there was a door without a placard, without a number. You raced across the small hallway, your breath coming from your mouth in delicate little pants. A few seconds passed as you stared at it, as though you were trying to view what was behind it. A potential option…
Nervously, you swallowed and leaned forward, trying the handle. To your delight; it gave way. Tentatively, you stuck your head inside; It was an unwelcoming empty room, nothing but cold, bare bricks inside. A strange, square shaped room that was too long to be a broom closet, but not wide enough to be a guest’s room. It looked like it ran parallel to the rest of the rooms, it too went on forever. A terrifying, bleak, unfinished hallway.
“Ahh, my little buttercup! Where have you run off to? I know this hotel like the back of my hand!. Afterall, I built it!”
Though slightly muffled, his syrupy, crooning voice was loud enough that it still bounced off the walls, seeming to come from all directions. Watching old films ardently, the Transatlantic accent was one that you found attractive usually, with its refined over-pronunciation, but this… you never pictured this scenario. Never pictured it to be…
Your head snapped in the direction from whence you’d come. The handle turned, which prompted you to shimmy inside, quietly shutting the door behind you. You were submerged in darkness and an odd moistness that made your nose itch. Wherever you were hadn't been utilized by anyone in a long time. A long, long time.
“...fuck…!” you hissed through clenched teeth. “...fuck, what do I do now ?”
If you weren’t going to die at the hands of that man, you were going to die in this bizarre, desolate hallway, starved to death, sealed away to decay like some forgotten wax figure. Pinpricks of darkness took over your vision, and you could do nothing but blindly feel your way down the hall, stepping carefully as you did, arms out in front of you to protect against any obstacles.
The floor was dusty, you could feel your warm skin picking up particles as you walked. You didn't hear him though, so he'd chosen another direction. At least, you hoped.
Your hands flattened against a surface that differed from the walls. It didn't feel like brick, it felt like another type of wood; there was bevelling on the sides. Your hands bumped into a handle, which you twisted, pushing forward. It gave with a little push and you came face first with a hotel room - one that looked similarly to your own.
It wasn't empty; a stout woman in a modest maid outfit was bent over the bed, meticulously smoothing every crease from the top sheet. She paid you no mind, though she'd surely had to have heard you open the door; the hinges desperately needed oiled.
You took a step forward. Hesitantly. "E-excuse me? Ma'am?"
No response from her. What the fuck was going on in this hotel? People dressed like they were from another time, ignoring desperate screams of peril...
“Please,” you panted, frustrated. “You have to help me. Hide me. There’s… there’s a man after me. He’s –”
Acting almost startled, she straightened up from the bed, and turned to you, waving her hands as though you were speaking too loudly. “Shhhush, shush, it’s alright, dear. Do stop breathing in such a way, you’re going to hyperventilate!”
You swallowed, wetting your dry mouth. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just, he’s… there’s a man… he tried to- to....” You scrambled. A phone. There was a phone on the table behind her. To call the police. Yes. That. Perfect. “Just let me use the phone and I'll -"
In a fluid, determinate motion, she stepped in front of the small table, blocking you from the phone. Your eyes narrowed, brows furrowing. She was too calm. Something was off about her demeanor as she dutifully approached you, hands clasped together, wringing them, and it made your teeth chatter. A small, but devious smile curled around her rouged lips.
“N-no, what're you doing....?”
The door to your left opened abruptly. The man exhaled as he burst through it, tying an apron behind his back. He first made eye contact with the maid, then with you, his dark, inky pupils widening.
“Ahhhh. Look at that, my dear.”
“No… no, no, no, no, no, no! NO! PLEASE!” You stumbled back around, falling against the door - the one you had just come from, which had swung shut. Although you'd just pushed it open moments ago, it seemed heavier than before. You put all your weight into pulling at it again, tugging with everything you had. From behind you, his dubose voice continued.
“It seems as though I’ve won this little game of yours!”
Finally, it released and the hinges let out a painful wail as you yanked it open. Although it had already begun to swing shut, you gripped the handle hard, pulling it until the lock clicked into place. You weren't sure if they were coming; you couldn't hear them talking from behind the heavy wood. You imagined they would be. Eventually.
The cool, looming darkness was all that surrounded you, but at present, it was less terrifying than what was on the other side of the door. Squaring your shoulders, you bravely took long strides back into the pitch-blackness, hoping to feel a sense of familiarity. After a few moments, you began running again, wanting to put as much distance between you and him as you could.
You only got a few yards before a searing hot pain shot up through your calf muscle as something sharp and jagged tore through your soft flesh, causing you to yelp and clumsily stumble to a stop. Though you couldn't see anything, out of habit, you gazed down in the general direction, breathing shallowly. Deprived of sight, your other senses kicked in, and you felt the warmth that oozed from the bottom of your foot and smelled the hot, irony scent of blood as it seeped through the gash in your toughest skin. Though the pain was crippling, you had to keep going.
Now hobbling hurriedly down the dark corridor, you thought you were nearing the door. With both hands out in front of you, you waited to feel something. A harrowing thought settled into your psyche, but you shooed it away, promising yourself that it wouldn't happen. Your fingertips finally felt the smoothness of wood and you pressed both hands against the door, gasping in relief. In trepidation, you tried the handle, desperately yanking it down. You wiggled it furiously, panicking. Just as you'd worried. It was locked.
The hinges howled at the other end of the hallway and you froze, holding your breath. Stupid. Where else would you have gone? He knew you were in there. Like he'd said, he knew this hotel like the back of his hand and likely knew that the door would lock. He'd probably designed it that way. Slowly, you turned your head, staring pointedly behind you.
Lights flickered on; though covered in dust, the same wall sconces that were on the outside hallways were also on the inside. You winced, as your eyes adjusted to the change in light. You spotted him, fast approaching. He held something in his hand, though you couldn't make out what it was. His crunching footsteps neared closer and closer. You spun around, pressing your back against the door. You were cornered. This was it.
“Now, now. There’s no need for that!” His voice echoed down the corridor. “Well,” he added. “Perhaps fear is... apropos. I've no intention of being quick with you.”
He was terrifying with his eloquence and debonair demeanour, albeit handsome. In a different setting, you might've accepted a drink from him, or perhaps an offer to dance. But now... with your hands in front of your chest, shaking like a cornered animal, you were anything but wooed.
He was mere inches away now, and all you could do was tremble like a fool. With a long, drawn out vocalisation, he closed in the distance, sandwiching your body between himself and the door. His fingers ghost over the curve of your thighs and hips, up to your waist, and finally, just beneath your breast. He pressed his hand underneath the weight of it, nestling it underneath the flesh. He could feel the sweat that had settled into the fabric of your nightgown, the heat that radiated off your body and most of all, he could feel your thumping heartbeat beneath your skin. It hammered away, pumping your blood through its arteries, keeping you living, breathing, panting.... quivering. Aroused, he nipped at the air, hissing through his teeth.
"Oh, don't look so surprised, my dear. Did you really think you'd be the one that got away from me? You gave me a good run, indeed. But deep down, you knew I'd find you."
No... he was wrong. You really had thought that you'd get away. You'd always considered yourself to be... smart, quick. As it seemed, that was a foolish misconception. You weren't quick enough.
He leaned down, placing his lips against your flushed cheek. His moustache tickled your flesh, his breath was cool against your ear like the first warning breeze before a storm.
“Now,” he whispered into your skin. "Where are those screams you so boldly let free before? Why, you're as quiet as a mouse now."
"Please, please don't kill me..." You murmured, pulling your face away from his. James immediately caught your cheek with his hand, pulling it back to its starting position. He stroked the skin softly, tenderly, and whispered: "Oh, but I must... you're going to make it sound so good."
With tears streaming down your face, you let out a pleading moan, transitioning into a blood-curdling scream.
"Yes! Scream for me, my darling! Scream to your heart's content!" James said, slipping his hand round your waist. "Miss Evers!" He called over his shoulder. "Ready my tools!"
You heard her call back: "Yes, Mr. March!"
Mr. March , you thought. That's his name. Mr. March is going to kill me.
You had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The only place you could go was into his arms - his cool, strong arms with their enrapturing steadfastness, their chilly persuasiveness. They gripped you so lovingly, though the threat of death loomed over you like a cloud. He hoisted you up into his arms and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You were light, alive and easy to manipulate.
"P-please. I was here to see my fr-friend..." you whimpered into his back, though you doubt he cared. Seeing your friend seemed like such a trivial thing now when your life was at stake. He carried you back down the hallway with ease, avoiding whatever obstacles laid on the floor.
By the time your back hit the table, your vision was so clouded with tears that you could no longer see him, but you felt the way he caressed you, and heard the way he spoke about your body, monologued discomforting facts about the human body, and how good yours was going to look once it was splayed open for the world to see.
The last thing you saw was the deep, crimson gash on his neck. Passively, you focused on it as he spoke, watching the gore as it glistened and moved with his words. You'd never thought about what your insides would look like until then. You wondered if yours looked like that, too. You supposed you'd find out soon enough.
"Please..." you whispered. "Please... don't..."
#nervous about this one but as per usual fuck or we ball#james patrick march#james march x reader#James Patrick March x reader#james patrick march x you#AHS hotel#American horror story
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