bits and pieces - sorta!spam

cherry red road to matyrdom

a fanfiction of a fanfiction.

read the fic ANTICHRIST by em 1-800-LESTERS. just do it. this entire chapter is dedicated to her. (its basically the full chapter of what i think might happen to a character in the story, so read it before you read this one!!)

"this is how you taught your son to pray, didn't you?"

phil's voice echoes off the floral wallpaper walls of dan's home, and the dim light casts inkyblack shadows against his porcelainpale skin. truly he's satanic now, an eternally damned creature of the night, darkness streaking across his face and sinking in the dips of of his body. his electric blue eyes glint dangerously, like the shine on the angel knife daniel has held before, his hands stained dark crimson and his lips tasting of sourmetal and sugardusted lemon candy.

phil is smiling as he looks into the coalblack eyes of the man bound in ropes before him, dangerous electric blue scouring terrified coalblack for exactly what he was seeing - fear. oh the lovely, syrupy taste of fear; it tickles his fancy, really, to see these fucking assholes cower beneath him, quivering and trembling like applegreen, honeygoldbrown leaves in a storm. chapped pink lips crisscrossed with cherry red dripping downwards in jagged lines open, as if to say something, than close again, knowing better.

ginger brows furrow and electric blue turns absolutely murderous as he says in a low voice that makes dan weak in his knees, "what was that?"

"n-no-"

thwack! a fist collides harshly against the bone of his jaw, and a loud, gurgling crack resonates in the ringing silence as cherryred erupts from chapped pink in a soft, warm spray. the man heaves, coughing, and phil stands back, fingers reaching for the cool handle of the dark whip that curled at his feet. he glances over at daniel, a smirk playing on his lips. daniel's dark mocha eyes that look like pools of sweethoney under the merciless summer sun are transfixed on the man, his soft features contorted in an unreadable expression. the darkness pulls shadows on his face, dipping in the hollows of his cheeks and wrapping around his neck, and daniel looks so fucking demonic in the dim light he feels the pit of his stomach curling at the sight.

fuck. the dark looks so good on him.

his smirk deepens into a satanic grin just then, and he feels lust-addled adrenaline pulsing through his veins, and the coalblack-eyed bitch knows he's absolutely fucked as phil speaks again, eyes piercing into his dirty little soul.

"i asked you a question, fucktard. didn't you know insubordination was a sin?"

the whip cracks, lashing in the air and ripping at the man's bare skin. it cracks, over and over again, and the man's cries evolve into full-blown screams as each lash tears at his skin. dark strawberrysyrup drips on the maplewood floors, and a chorus of "please, please...let me go," laces the air, each succesive word more of a plea.

"nuh uh. you haven't answered me yet."

and the whip cracks again, like the july fourth american fireworks phil watches on the grainygrey telly, the man's screams being the grand orchestra of the show.

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it isn't long until all phil lester sees in the peach room with dimyellow lights and whitepinkorange flowers fraying goldenbrown at the edges is redredred.