#🦇 pip squeaks

[needleanddead]

"Lucas? I was thinking about something--that is, I wanted to ask you for something. And um, I know it's a big ask, and maybe it could be a Christmas present 'cause it's a such a big ask, but... do you think I could call my parents? Or write them a letter? Just so they know I'm okay. Just so they don't worry, I mean."

He stops what he's doing, a stillness that makes your spine go cold - you'd compare it to a deer in the forest, but that's not quite right. It's the silent, calm stance of a wolf about to leap upon a deer.

"Why'd you wanna do a thing like that, darlin'?" He asks you, his voice a carefully controlled thing, a tightrope pulled taut. "Ain't I takin' care of you well enough here? You wanna go tellin' tales about me, is that it?"

Before you can think of some lie to tell him, some reassurances that of course not, that you just want to tell them how happy you are, just check on them and see if they're well, he's turned to you and you can see the veins flexing in his knuckles and the knit of his brow and the way his jaw is twitching, and the words die in your throat.

"No, darlin'. No, I don't think you ought to." One of his fists twitches, and you imagine wood clenched in it, imagine a sharp blade heading directly for your soft, sensitive flesh. "It'll just make you homesick, and ain't we been workin' so hard on that ourselves? This is home now. You wanna say somethin', you can always say it to me."

[needleanddead]

also please like this post if it is fine if i in turn draw my ocs kissing your ocs for oc kiss week btw!!!!

[needleanddead]

“Cass… I think this is infected. I-I don’t feel well…”

"Infected?" He seems sharper somehow, as if the word has switched something on in his brain. You feel somewhere deep inside of you, away from the pain and the confusion, relief. Cass is going to do something about it. Cass isn't going to let you die here, of sepsis or infection or some kind of awful mould in this ancient ruin of a house that will get into your wound and devour you from the inside out. "Let me see."

You weakly proffer your leg towards him, and he's on his knees in moment, peering closely at it. He even moves the eyepatch from his other eye, though you have to fight not to turn away from the squirming mass within it. He stares at it, bringing up a hand, long fingers sliding over the wound that is turning colours no human skin ought to ever be.

"Oh," he breathes, and there's something in his voice you can't place. "Oh, you're right. Yes, darling, this is very infected. Look . . . do you see these colours? That mottled blue, versus the green - the way that the skin is starting to wave at the edges? The bubbles inside? The way that the blood is starting to thicken, like tar, take on that oily sheen . . . Oh my." He's almost breathless. You wince as he digs his fingers right into it, nails sliding into the mass of infection. It makes you gag, a sharp ring of pain echoing through your head. You tell yourself he's just checking it over, before he figures out how to cure you, but your head feels muzzy and heavy.

"Gods . . . It's beautiful, isn't it? Let me grab my paints. Don't move an inch. I wonder what it will look like tomorrow. I wonder how long we can let it rot before you have to lose the leg . . ." There it is again - that dreamy, far-away look. The look that tells you he's thinking about you as a piece of art and a piece of meat and not a living breathing person. "Ah, darling. Sweetheart. My dearest muse. We'll find out together, won't we?"

[needleanddead]

Imagine trying to tell lucas about yourself thinking if you humanise yourself he might let you go, it's what your meant to do with kidnappers right? Only for it to backfire as everything you say only enforces to him why you are better off with him

either you risk saying something he doesn’t like - and risk a lecture or a gruff ‘well, darlin’, your days of doin’ that are over’, or you make him fully certain he did the right thing by kidnapping you. he doesn’t like it all that much if you talk too often about your past - a sun-drenched wistful childhood memory is fine, of course, a rose-tinted nostalgia . . . but more recent history gets dicey. as far as he’s concerned, he should have been able to rescue you from the horrors of your former life much sooner!

[needleanddead]

Hello!! I just reread all your Lucas works (absolutely love him) and there's a question I've been meaning to ask! So, darling cannot under any circumstances leave the cabin, that much is clear. But what if they have some sort of chronic illness or allergy that *needs* constant medical attention? I for one have crohn's disease so I need to be accurately medicated and have a few doctor's visits a year or else I'll be in horrible pain (and maybe even in need of surgery at one point, like I already had to have.) So.. how is Lucas going to go about that? He tries his best to care for his darling (in his own sick way), but this is something he cannot manage on his own. So would he just straight up kill them because he knows that they will eventually become a burden at one point?

Hello anon! I am so glad that you have been enjoying them and that he has resonated with you!!! <3

I felt absolutely sure I'd answered this kind of question before but I couldn't find it, so! With a darling who's disabled or chronically ill, he ramps up the cooing protector thing all the more; of course they need his protection, look at how weak they are! Barely functioning!

Still.

They can tell him about it, and he sure will look into it, but . . . unless they are thoroughly broken and he thinks they are about to die without medical attention, he's absolutely not taking them to the hospital. He's getting medication himself (his poor housebound spouse can't come, you understand) - he's figuring out how it can be managed the way it was before medical care was so simple to access. If the answer to that is just 'they died' . . . he's still going to damn well try. His mother didn't raise no quitter, after all.

The pain thing . . . oh, he does hate seeing his darling in pain, but also . . . they're so much easier to deal with like that. They need him! He can snuggle and coo and smother them with affection and there's nothing they can do about it except helplessly cling to him and ask him to try and help. No thoughts of escape. No thoughts of anything but the pain going away. And they're so thankful if he does manage to help, with hot water bottles or massages or medication he gets from the bathroom cupboard--

A man could almost get used to it.

[needleanddead]

Percy, I trusted you.

That same awful smile; sympathy, tinged with just a touch of triumph, a touch of smugness. That same crinkling of his eyes, that same slow, honey-drenched tone that he used to use to murmur sweet things into your ear--

"Oh, I know you did, sweetie. That's what makes it so much better. Come on, look at me now - do you not think maybe that you deserved it?"

He lets the barb sink in for just one carefully controlled moment, before he's pinching your cheek again, simpering, his veneer of faux compassion at once setting your teeth on edge and making you want to curl into a ball in his arms. Even care that's undoubtedly a lie begins to feel a sweet prospect when one has been chewing on sawdust for months.

"You did trust me, after all. And you trusted those other people, too. Perhaps this is just the kind of person you attract. Perhaps you were just made to suffer. It's alright, though," he's still smiling, and you have to blink the blur of tears away. "If you're going to suffer, sweetie, at least you know whose hands it will be at now. At least I'll take care of you when we're done. At least you know I hurt you because I care about you. Doesn't that make you feel better?"

You hate to admit it almost does.

[in-character OC response game!]

[needleanddead]

Think I may allow myself to go insane and update and make more accurate F-Lists for all of my OCs today. As a little treat.

[needleanddead]

going on a rampage of replying to asks that got abandoned btw. mostly about lucas (as is the way). under the cut, sorry if you see your ask from a million years ago!!!

general tws for cannibalism, murder, injury etc and one question about menstruation

lucas probably (read: definitely) built the cabin himself. the floors are old wooden boards; not the most comfortable, but not the worst! there are a number of rugs that look as though they were woven by hand; perhaps a victim before you? he wouldn't be overjoyed to see you sleeping on the floor - your poor back! - but if it's the middle of the day, and you're looking cute in a patch of sunlight . . . he just rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue and lays a blanket over you with a fond smile on his face. you will have to return to the bed or the couch later, though; lucas is far too old for snuggling on the floor and he really enjoys holding his darling.

you know what anon? you live your best life. lucas is a bit awkward and gruff when he's out in civilised society and sometimes this kind of thing goes over his head, but . . . always nice for an old man to feel like something pretty and young is flirting! and if you're silly enough to flirt all willy nilly with someone who may or may not be a mass-murderer cannibal - well, he's basically gotta take you home and keep you safe, right?

oh, ABSOLUTELY. i do think lucas makes a bit of a thing about holidays; he can take or leave halloween, but he's a sap for romantic christmas time, for valentine's day, for a kiss on midnight at new year's eve . . . so yes, he's celebrating his darling's birthday. hopefully you've told him that (if not, he saw it on your ID before it all got mysteriously waterlogged and ruined and lost at the bottom of a covered well on his property.) or you're going to be in for a mildly disconcerting surprise!

he finds you a present he thinks you'll like. he absolutely does try and get a cake, though he's not a dab hand at baking himself (he much prefers darling to be the one to do that, it just feels so much more homemaker-y!). he might get one in town and say it's for his birthday. little bit of wrapping paper, some streamers . . . no balloons because he can't stand the popping sounds.

and of course, it's not really properly your birthday until you're underneath him in bed and . . . you know . . .

so there isn't a like, canonical 'this is how many darlings lucas has had', but i always imagine the number hovering around eight or so. if this included the victims of all of his kill-and-eats, oof . . . but i think lucas - especially considering his general preference in soft sweet shy darlings - would feel as though he could take them on. they just need to work together . . .

i think if you were very well-behaved and careful what you asked for, you could probably get some kind of personal music device. not an ipod - that way lies computers, finding a way to put music on it - but perhaps a cd player and cds, or even a walkman or a cassette player. the first time you don't hear him when he calls because you're too plugged in, though . . . well. lucas giveth, lucas taketh away.

he's actually really a bit of a sweetheart about it. he's aware of these things, especially if his darling is afab - he's kind of clueless (definitely makes you write down the brand of pads you need and any info, and definitely drives a couple of towns away to get them), but when it comes to being taken care of . . .

lucas loves a darling who's a bit compromised, as long as they're pathetic about it. sniffling and snuggly and sad? he's all over it. so as long as you don't start getting angry and snappy, he's there with a hot water bottle and some of the chocolate he rarely ever buys and big hands gently rubbing over your stomach. won't let you do anything for yourself. he thinks the crying is cute and will snuggle and kiss and reassure and (unfortunately) get hard over it, the dacryphilia is strong.

but the snapping? he'll forgive it the first few times, but unfortunately you're right about the 'stern' correction. face set, voice warning. he won't punish you whilst you're still actively bleeding and in pain, but he remembers - and you'll get the punishment threefold when it's over. hope you didn't plan on sitting down !

honestly, that would be his preference. if you prefer staying inside? he's way less worried you're going to make a run for it. he loves a cute little homebody. it would be nice if, once the two of you were settled together - and lucas ofc is convinced that will happen - you showed a bit of interest in some nice, calm pursuits like gardening or spending time with the chickens . . . but he's not going to try and force you outside, when you're so much safer in the cabin!

he'd be patient!!! he speaks a little spanish (you pick up all sorts of things in the military, after all) though he's not all that great at it - his accent always bleeds through, no matter what he's doing. so if you're a spanish speaker, great! but he'll be patient with you and he'll probably try and learn a bit of your language too. his only irritation would be if he can't quite get across a telling off!

listen, anon. he's my OC and as my wish fulfilment OC i get to say 'yes'. he still might not deal well with it, but he'd at least make an effort. a couple of things, unfortunately, might get used against you if he thinks it will be to the advantage of keeping you inside - but lucas himself is suffering with something that might be ptsd (read: is), so he's not going to dismiss it out of hand.

i daresay SOMEONE will be offering to assist with the whole back blown out thing. not my fault. he's got to pay attention to his darlings, you see, because some of the others haven't worked out--

paranoia absolutely activated. he brings it up CONSTANTLY. he's worse about leaving you (locks you in, gets bars for the windows, even if he trusted you entirely before this, his trust in human beings otherwise is completely gone and keeping you safe is more important than keeping you happy). holds you so tightly you think you're going to suffocate. jumps on every syllable you stress strangely, like walking on a tightrope edge.

it's . . . it's not a good time for anyone. there's a reason he works so hard to be as off the grid as possible.

from february... crying.....

honestly i think he should get a dog. i think his darling deserves a dog. i think that your guilt tripping would work and you two would end up with a fluffy friend who slept on the couch with you and has to occasionally be shut out of the bedroom at night for a while. bonus - dog has plenty of bones to chew on!

piggy backs are free and allowed but he would prefer to princess carry you around if it's an option (and it has been, in the times he's broken an ankle to prove a point). when he's mad he's very much the 'fireman carry toss you over the shoulder' kind of man. doesn't even break a sweat.

[needleanddead]

How each of your OCs smell?

I answered a similar question in our QOTD channel on the server once so I hope you do not mind, anon, if I simply copy and paste my answer!!!

Cass: Buys incredibly fancy scents. Can't help but imagine he's a Penhaligon's man. Maybe 'The Dandy' (whiskey, cedarwood, oakwood). Beneath that, still smells like the lingering bottle of expensive wine he downed last night and the blood he was up to his elbows in and turpentine and oil paint - and, if he was very busy last night, probably sex.

Constance: Smells very good, thank you. Uses cute artisan perfumes she buys from Etsy but has a fondness for scents like cherries and pomegranates. She matches her perfume to her outfits. The scent of antiseptic tends to cling to her a little more than she'd like. Her hygiene is impeccable.

Lucas: Uses a random generic aftershave he got from a supermarket that smells Generically Good. Beneath that, metal and perhaps a hint of blood. He uses 3-in-1 shower wash, shampoo and conditioner so you can imagine the Non-Specific But Clean scent he gives off.

Percy: Old books (hard to not smell like them when you own a bookstore) and freshly brewed tea.

Rose: They use Halloween-themed perfumes and body sprays all year round so expect cinnamon and pumpkin and patchouli and sandalwoods to be lingering if you stand too close.

Teddy: Paranoid he smells bad after dancing, sprays SO MUCH body spray always. Generally smells like cotton candy/marshmallow/some form of sweets. His hygiene is actually really good though! Loves a candy-themed body wash and has an involved skincare routine.

Van: Smells like moss, a forest after it's rained. Not unpleasant, but . . . unusual.

Thorne: Doesn't really have an overpowering smell but when you stand close to him you feel like you can almost get the scent of salt-spray on sea air.

[needleanddead]

"What's her name?"

You blink up at him, brain slow to recognise he's talking to you rather than swinging his axe.

It takes you too long to understand his question and he crouches down in front of you, palm raised up as if to calm you as you flinch backward.

"Your little friend there," he gestures towards the soft toy in your lap. "What's her name, darlin'?"

You stay quiet, unable to decide if this was real or a nightmare. The absurdity of his question tying your tongue as you reluctantly drop your gaze to your lap. The toy rabbit you have a death grip on is not even yours, it was your friend's, your friend who was now - a choked sob escapes you before you can stop it.

"She's ok," he murmurs, and for one foolish second you think he's talking about your friend. His fingers brush over the rabbits torn ear. "Nothing a bath and a couple of stitches won't fix."

You don't miss the way his gaze flicks down to your legs. His gaze following the bare line of your skin up to your thigh where your nightie had torn. "Easy petal, breathe."

His hand drops to rest on your ankle, grip firm as his thumb rubs across your skin. You feel nauseous, bile bitter at the back of your throat but you force yourself to get control of your tears. He hadn't killed you yet and doing what he said instinctively felt like a good idea right now. "There we go, good girl. A pretty thing like you shouldn't be crying."

He reaches out, one finger brushing away a stray tear and you pull back, head smacking into the tree behind you so hard you see stars.

"Skittish arent ya?" You watch him as he sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth, a thoughtful hum escaping him as he tastes the salt of your tears. A million panicked whys running on a loop through your head as he holds out his hand and you stare at it dumbly. "Let's get you home."

ANON . . . i do not know if you are the same anon as before or a different one but i wish i could tag them in it if so! the tension . . . ah. you've got his speech down too ('petal'? CUTE). thank you for leaving this in the askbox!!!

[needleanddead]

Does percy take care of you after all the nightmares and psychological torture? I feel like his idea of looking after you isn't quite the best. What does it entail??

He does! That’s part and parcel of his whole deal; he likes to be needed. Relied on. He ensures his victims don’t break, in part, by providing comfort afterwards - if there’s still that glimmer of hope in them, if they still believe there’s good in him and they might get free, they don’t go limp and unresponsive and stop fighting (and, more importantly, getting scared).

Someone who isn’t getting any outside stimulation or any kind words or any physical comfort will seek it out wherever they can, even in the arms of their captor - and Percy knows this and exploits it.

It’s laughably easy to take care of them, too. A firm embrace and a soothing word and rubbing their back, reassuring them that he knows it was terrible but they did so so well for him. Telling them how much he needs them; telling them that he adores them. Sometimes physical comfort in a sexual way, if he senses that will help (some of his darlings get really fucked up about that, because he also gets hot and bothered by them being terribly scared and fighting him, or by watching them sleep while they have nightmares. It takes a certain kind of victim to seek sexual comfort despite that, but . . . it’s worth remembering that Percy was their boyfriend, once).

He also provides a little bit of comfort in the form of physical objects or ways to pass the time when he senses that they’re starting to go stir-crazy. A book to read, a jigsaw puzzle, some other simple hobby. He sometimes brings Behemoth with him and they get to pet a nice purring cat!

In the end, he wants to keep his darlings as long as possible, and that means knowing when to deploy his own awful brand of comfort to ensure that he ekes out a few weeks or months or years more of his darlings, just to make sure they don’t give up.

[needleanddead]

Do Percy's powers only work when reader is sleeping? Or can he fuck with them when they're awake, too?

They are stronger when sleeping - he’s a sleep paralysis demon, after all - but he’s perfectly capable of fucking with them whilst awake! He’s just less able to create a full immersive cinematic hallucination if other people or too many variables are involved, hence why he keeps his captives in a room in his house that is technically a ‘created’ space that he has full control of!

(The exception is victims suffering from sleep deprivation; because their mind is already in a state of suggestion, he’s able to play with them a bit more!)

He can always siphon off fear, though; that’s the equivalent of his nourishment, and is one of the reasons he likes to get his darlings in situations that they find frightening and uncomfortable (whilst feigning that it’s an accident, of course).

[needleanddead]

I think, if a darling is particularly well-behaved and expresses a wistfulness over the chickens, if they’re sweet and can be trusted outside with supervision, if they take care of things and look gentle and lovely and domestic doing it, they might find that Lucas surprises them one day by leading them outside with his hands over their eyes to a painstakingly hand-made rabbit hutch complete with two bright eyed twitchy-nosed little creatures nosing excitedly towards their new parents.

[needleanddead]

Hey, uh.. Lucas? I'm sure you've noticed that I can't sleep well at night and.. u-uhm.. I would sleep much better if I had my plushie with me that was in my backpack back in the woods.. do you perhaps still have my backpack? C-Could I have my teddy bear back, please?

He looks blank.

“Your backpack, darlin’?” His face creases, as he tries to recall it. “Why, I don’t rightly remember it. Hey, hey, don’t look so upset now—“

He catches sight of your trembling lip, of the way that your eyes fill with tears. You can’t help but wonder what did happen to the backpack - your things, your clothes, the last vestiges of your life . . . The morning after you’d woken in Lucas’ cabin, he’d given you your little box of medication, so he must have looked through it—

“C’mon, sweetheart. Look. There’s a teddy bear in the study, I’ll get it for you tonight, s’a bit well-worn but it’ll do . . . and when I go into town I’ll get you a new stuffed animal as a treat, yeah? What kinda creature do ya want?”

[needleanddead]

"Has anyone ever told you that you're pretentious, Cass? I mean, the whole 'torture is art' thing is so overdone. This may or may not be my blood loss talking."

Cass clicks his tongue at you from his position by the easel, wagging a finger - if you had the strength to move from where you're probably bleeding out on the floor, you'd like to rip his tongue clean off.

"Pretentious? See, darling, you're already fundamentally misunderstanding what I'm doing. I don't blame you, of course - it would probably go over your pretty little head - but it's not the torture that's art." He smiles at you again, your blood smeared across his cheekbones like red paint. "It's the way that you react to the torture." He smiles, satisfied, at the easel.

He steps around it, and as he talks he makes grand gestures, every inch the magnetic aristocrat.

"It's the way your face screws up when you wince! The way it looks when you scream, the light in your eyes when you realise if I keep going that you're really honestly going to meet your maker . . . If I enjoy doing the torturing part too, well . . . You can't blame a man for having a little fun."

[in-character OC response game!]

[needleanddead]

"Lucas... I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean to throw it back up again, please I promise I didn't mean to, please don't make me eat it again. I'll be good"

His brow creases, as if he's genuinely distraught that you would think this of him.

"Darlin', I'd never . . . c'mon now, look at me." He takes your chin firmly in his hand and forces you to look into his eyes. "All I'm thinkin' about right now is if you're okay. It ain't nothing unusual for someone as delicate as you who ain't used to hearty food to get their constitution all mixed up and make themselves sick."

He's gentle when he helps you to your feet, his eyes still disgustingly tender as he tugs you towards the bedroom.

"Let's get you all tucked up in bed, yeah? Hot water bottle. Cuddles. Make you feel better. Lemme take care of you, and we'll see how you're feelin' again tomorrow. Plenty more meat where't came from."

[in-character OC response game!]