Hetalia Kink meme part 9 -- CLOSED
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hetalia kink meme
part 9
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( Christmas Reveals )
And then, he feels the knife in his body. He looks up, and into a face he does not know, the details burning into his mind before the killer slashes again, this time more fatally. Matthew falls to darkness.
And wakes, the sent of plywood and diesel around him. It's pitch dark, and he is flat on his back. He reaches up to realize he is trapped on all sides by wood, and he panics. He screams, knowing no one can hear him, and pounds on the wood, sobbing, vainly trying to reign in his terror.
And then, he can hear them. The voices of the others. The other victims of this killer, all buried like he is now, buried in the Canadian wilderness.What I would like is a fleshing out of this, please. How is he found? What would be the consequences if he is never found, and he is ( ... )
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Matthew gasped for breath, his hands flying up in the darkness and his fingers scratching at the panels above. There were long grooves in the wood, and he could smell something like gasoline (paint thinner? His mind couldn't make sense of it). His breathing became faster, more erratic, and his pants broke the eerie silence, the only sound in this tiny place.
He could remember.
Saying goodbye to his brother. Leaving the bar. Walking down the street. Hailing a taxi.
But the taxi never saw him. He had felt something tear through him, breaking him, and he had looked up into the narrowed eyes of a complete stranger. Then he had woken in darkness, taking in his location. His glasses had been gone. He had scratched at his coffin, tearing his fingernails from his hands and impaling his fingers with long wooden splinters.
He had died.
Matthew shouted. He had to be close to the surface, he had to!
Three weeks without food. Three days without water.
Three minutes without air.That was how easily a human could die. ( ... )
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YES.
THANK YOU.
*Cries a little, hoping Matthew isn't really dead. She loves her country too much. ;_;*
The promptness of the fill, and the sheer imagery is...astounding. Please, please continue.
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He didn't even cry.
Matthew felt hollow. He was empty inside. The ache in his chest didn't grow, but it didn't go away either.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse, to cry out, to do something. His coffin was so quiet. He couldn't even hear his own breathing, couldn't feel his heart.
He wondered what his brother was doing. They had fought before he had left that night. He wondered if he cared that he was gone. Probably not. Hell, no one cared. It wasn't like they ever noticed him. Occasionally Francis would talk to him, but mostly Cuba.
And Alfred.
Why was he losing hope in everything? Why couldn't he force himself to try and look on the bright side?
Because he could feel them.
The women. The dead women, buried in holes around the country, the result of some psycho's delusions and brutality. He could feel their pain as they were taken, he could hear their screams as they cried for a husband, a lover anybody that wasn't the man that was taking them so viciously, tearing through them, breaking them, ( ... )
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Keep going this is amazing.
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Dark, terrifying, brutal...but beautiful.
You have surpassed what I saw in my dreams. And I love it.
You have my support, Author!Anon. Take all the time you need. I'll be as patient as needed, so don't burn yourself out.
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He didn't want to go back to sleep. It seemed like everytime he tried, he was haunted by the darkness, trapped in that place. He had never thought of himself as claustrophobic, but that dream terrified him, as much as he hated to admit it. The damp, the cold, the feeling of death, the pure terror and painAlfred stared at the tiny television, then grabbed the remote. He had to do something, get it out of his head. He turned the tv on and began flipping through channels, his eyes half lidded as he fought off sleep. He couldn't possibly return to those nightmares ( ... )
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Alfred was screaming.
It made since. He didn't know what had happened, but then he was standing, bracing his legs as he leaned against the wall. A puddle of vomit was on the floor by his overturned chair, and nations were scared. They were looking at him in confusion, fear, and had he been aware of what was going on, he would have known that they were afraid of him, that he would hurt someone.
But he couldn't know what they were thinking, didn't care enough. He could see it, the red shirt illuminated by a watch, a red hoodie with a team emblem, a hockey shirt. He slid to the floor, his legs finally giving in. Matt was in that box. It was why he hadn't called him, hadn't come to Thanksgiving, hadn't shown up for the world meeting. Hands were reaching out to him, but his eyes were wide and he couldn't find it within him to respond to those hands. His Mattie was gone. He couldn't hear through the white noise that filled his head. Couldn't imagine-
Alfred! Get u-
-him hurt, fighting for life, begging mercy, crying-
Get ( ... )
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Finally! Alfred is taking action! Took him long enough to find out what's wrong!
And Canada D: My heart goes out for him. Having to go through multiple deaths non-stop must be an emotionally scarring experience. Dammit Alfred, move your ass!
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