my entry for yuletide 2023! was a blast getting to write for a new fandom and to immerse myself in the world of hellraiser for a bit. hope you guys enjoy!
my, my, those eyes like fire (kirsty cotton x pinhead, hellraiser, rated: m)
“Kirsty Cotton.” Her name sits heavy in his mouth, strange on his tongue. Warm, as though he were greeting an old friend. She hates the way it makes her shudder. “Tell me, are you ready at last to receive our gift?”
“Your pain,” she croaks. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it? That’s all I’d ever get from you.” Pain, horror, heartbreak, the kind that razes at her flesh like a knife.
“Sensation,” he corrects, black eyes flashing in the dim light of her bedside lamp. “The likes of which few shall know, and even fewer shall deserve.”
“And I deserve it?” she bites out, her fingers twisting into fists atop her naked knees.
The entity’s lips twitch in the facsimile of a smile. “You ache for it.”
I’m back, baby! Writer Mike makes a surprise appearance, poor guy. The hollow where his heart should be. Mike. Mike x Reader, really. Angst, some body horror and gore, gross abuse of first-person pov. He really should be working on his novel, but he keeps having this dream.
—-
The thing is, babe— it’s been so long, so fucking long I’ve almost forgotten how to do this, how to reach inside my chest and grab the words. I have this idea that’s been kicking around the back of my mind, and it’s been driving me fucking crazy because I can’t do anything about it. It’s just this image, these little moments, and this feeling. It’s like I can see the shape of the story but it’s all hollow. I just. I can’t, not like this. Not when I keep having this dream.
There’s this bay of deep black water, iron fences, rusted steps that rise up with their sharp edges and they cut, babe, they cut and catch at my feet and I’m leaving bloody trails up and down but I can’t stop. I’m shredded raw, walking on bone but I have to move, into the water and back out again and I’m all wet and shivering, the salt water’s burning my lungs and I’m drowning, babe, right there between water and sky.
I dream about it every night. Maybe I’m in hell. They say it’s all fire and brimstone and red hot pokers but babe, hell is cold. It’s cold and lonely, like that last spike of adrenaline when you know you’re gonna die and it’s gonna hurt real bad. I just know there’s chains down below and every time I go down the steps they stab their hooks in me. They, yeah. I mean those strangers in the dark with their faces like dead things; they throw their chains and they’re catching at my feet, my hands, my heart, but when I go up again it’s like some awful dream within a dream and it’s just step after step, over and over again forever. I can’t. I can’t do it but I have to anyway.
It’s like I’m a puppet, babe, and these chains pull me wherever they want because I can feel them even when they aren’t there, when they’re coiled up with them down in the dark. There’s rust in my blood like poison; it’s theirs because somehow they’re sipping pain wherever they go and every time I take a step they dig their nails into me. And my feet are gone, babe, just bones all shiny from seawater cause they’ve been worn away and I can’t look but I have to look. They keep saying bear witness and it has to be a dream but those aren’t my words and it’s not my voice. They won’t let me stop until I’m all used up, all worn away. I feel like even then it wouldn’t stop. They’d just find another way to make it hurt.
I know I’ve been a pain lately, babe, but please— please— be patient with me just a little longer. I have to beat this, but I don’t know how. I’m so tired and I wake up soaked with sweat and aching in the middle of the night. I think it’s sweat, at least. It better be, because I don’t know what I’d do if it was water, if I found myself drowning in the blankets. It’s already bad enough the way moonlight shines through the window; I remember breathing you in while you named the stars, when you pointed up and said there’s the Lovers, but I already had my hands under your shirt and I didn’t hear the words til later. But the moonlight shifts like wavelets on a quiet sea and when I wake up I’m scrambling back against the headboard and my lungs are burning.
I try to force myself to write, to catch lightning in a bottle. The publisher keeps calling, saying Mikey, baby, where’s the manuscript? Give us anything you’ve got, come on, that advance must be running out, god dammit Michael have you heard of breach-of-contract, but every time I try to write I slip away into the sea and the blinking cursor on my laptop becomes that tap-tap-tap of bones on iron. I’ve got nothing, not even outlines, not even ideas except this stuff I’m telling you, but I don’t think you can slap a half-naked hunk on the cover and call this shitshow a romance. Babe. I can’t. I don’t know what to do.
The dream is getting closer, and I know it doesn’t make any sense but I can hear the soughing of water and wind even in the daytime now, even here: I’m a thousand miles away from the sea and still I feel it. Everything I touch cuts sharp like salt and I can hear them in every step, every breath. I look in the mirror and I see iron and blood; they’re calling to me and I’m saying no for now but I’m so scared, babe. I just want this to be over, to wake and feel you with me in this bed. I want you to name the stars with me again. I want to lie down and feel the warm earth bake into my bones. I want, I want, but I’m falling apart and I don’t know where some of the pieces have gone. I think the parts of me I’ve lost are with them in the dark.
Remember when you found me all hollow in the cold? I still had soil in my hair and I swore up and down my chest was torn open but you looked— you lifted up my shirt and said your heart’s still beating. You laid your head against my chest and tapped out a rhythm on my ribs. You said either way, the scar’s the same. You said I’m with you now and you. And you— oh, babe. I want— when I told you I had another story in me, when I said I needed just a little bit of quiet— I didn’t think this would be it. My whole mind is ocean and rust and that tap tap tap; I’m drifting down and I’m so afraid of climbing up again, of bearing witness to my own dissolution, but then again I know what's waiting down below.
A sharp needle pierced through flesh and bone as she bit her bottom lip in pain.
“The essence of my soul given to repair your own damaged pieces.”
Her teeth drew blood as she could taste its bitter copper. A pair of closed eyes threatening to give way to release a scream.
“You are my apprentice, turned daughter with the blessing of our lord Leviathan.”
As the last needle was placed, a gush of blood seeped down her chin as she had bit through. Pinhead could only chuckle as he cleaned up the mess. “Forgive me dear, I often forget that you are new to the pleasure of pain.”
A drabble I wrote on a random headcannon I had about kids entering Hell and a new character that might be introduced in the fic.
In Hell there is a variety of residents within, most if not all have committed great sins that had lead them to their damnation, but what if the innocent got caught in the crossfire? A question that had been debated and fought on amongst the Cenobites. It was primarily the children of the sinners, caught between their parents opening the box and being dragged into Hell, or else wandering in after before the portal closes.
Before the Hell Priest took his reign of being Leviathan's favored son- children were seen as nothing more than dead weight that came with the victims. So very few were taken in by the cenobites, most were disposed of quickly and used as fodder. But The Hell Priest had swiftly put a stop to it.
When he first entered Hell, it was due to him opening the box on his own. It was an obssession, a promised sweet relief of the fear and hatred he was forced to endure so he wouldn't become a "faggot", according to his father as he left him with marks.
Now those marks seemed to be neuance compared to what he saw. He was placed within what appeared to be a cathedral, groups clamoring about as they awaited their fates. Some were his age, young boys and girls huddling together around him as a tall, heavily pierced figure watched over them from behind. Across were older children in cloaks, adorning piercings and ornate scars across their skin. They weren't panicked like his group, instead they casually talked among themselves as if they were in a school yard.
Suddenly, a voice drenched in authority bellowed out to be silent, along with hushed voices scolding them amongst the elders. A tall woman with her throat open walked down the aisle, gazing at them to make sure that none stepped out of line as the Hell Priest cleared his throat.
"Our spiritual lessons shall begin just shortly, but amongst you are new bloods who had recently arrived within Leviathan's domain."
The voice sent a chill up young Darren's spine, this whole place was large and frightening to a young mind.
"Leviathan has chosen your lot to enter, and for that you should feel honored. But also, it is a great responsibility that should not be taken lightly- that is why you all be taken in by masters. Now come forth before them."
Suddenly, Darren's group was herded by the tall cenobite up to the podium, standing before the vast groups of cenobites and young bloods as they watched in curiosity. He pushed himself past the other cowaring children to hide behind them, crouching low in his childish attempt to not be seen by the monsters coming forth.
"I'm surprised to see you here, Face."
Pinhead said, giving the actor a polite smile. Face chuckled in reply, wearing a rather cheery mask. "I believe we have spoken about it before, but I feel as if my internal clock is ticking- something is missing in my life."
The Hell Priest nodded, before suddenly frowning. "This isn't merely adopting a pet, it is molding the next generation of potential cenobites and working through the traumas that they bring with them from their past lives."
His tone was serious, ever cold as frost drifted from his mouth. Face sighed in return. "And I am very aware of that, Hell Priest-"
He was cut off by a cry of fear, a boy backing into the podium as Hunger attempted to come close. Suddenly, his arm was roughly grabbed and he released a scream. Face had enough as he made his way down and got in between them, glaring at the skeletal cenobite. "That is no way to handle children! Have you gone mad and forgotten the most important rule?"
Hunger rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Have you forgotten not to get into my or anyone else's business, thesbian?"
Out of spite, Face scooped the boy into his arms and quickly etched a knick into his cheek with a nail as the child cried out in pain. Blood seeped out as it felt hot and sticky against his cheek. "Oh whatever, that boy will grow to be a bloody jester like you!"
The Hell Priest had enough as he slammed his hands down upon the podium's surface. "That's enough out of both of you! Hunger, Face, leave this place at once! And since the boy had received his first mark by you-"
Face had suddenly realized what he had just done, and the new responsibility he had taken.
"You, Face, are now his mentor and guardian."
Pinhead grabbed his shoulder, glaring into his eyes. "Do not make me regret giving you this responsibility."
"And that's how I received this annoying scar?"
Darren smirked as Face rolled his eyes and lightly smacked him behind the head. "It is a worthy mark, the first and most important you will ever receive!"
"And it's hard to conceal with make up."
His reply earned him a glare, before Face sighed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Oh you hush now, you are almost a star like your father and you should be proud of it!"
They walked out onto an empty stage, bodies suspended from the rafters as there was gore on the floor. Darren's silver piercings glittered in soft lighting. "Just wait yet, my dear, your greatest performance is coming yet."
A drabble I wrote that's a mix of what I go through and Bella's first month in Hell.
Commander bowed her head in obdeince as she went back to reading from one of many tomes of Leviathan enscribed in flesh. It had been nearly a month since she arrived in Hell, or as she was told by Throat. Hell had no concept of time, save for the prolonging of agony.
She flipped through the pages, the words vile in her eyes. It was almost too much, even for an ex hardened soldier such as herself. The Hell Priest rapt his fingers on the table to gain her attention. "It is important to pay attention, to gain knowledge of being a-"
"Something I never asked for in the first place!"
She shot up from her chair. A pair of blackened eyes stared into her own, and caused her soul to die. "Do not make me regret choosing you, Bella."
For a month, Bella had been witnessing unseen horrors, grotesque mutilations and pure evil. She had been forced to drink his blood, devoure flesh. Her stomach churned. Suddenly, she just had enough. Before Pinhead could stop her, Bella threw the books to the floor as they released a pained oomph and cursed her as she fell to her ass and screamed.
A pair of heels clicked softly as The Hell Priest made his way around the table, stopping before her as she refused to look at him from her knees. He could see that was shaking, choking back sobs as her mind was overwhelmed. How could he have missed this? He too went through something similar, but in silence behind closed doors. Gingerly he lowered himself to sit on the cold stone floor.
"Take your time before you speak, but know that I am not angered by your actions…"
Bella peered at him, her body still scrunched together.
"I should be apologizing for placing so much pressure on you in so little time."
He offered her his hand, but it was rejected as she hid her face once more. "I..I can't take this anymore-"
Her words were barely above a whisper. Pinhead nodded softly, his eyes ever so watchful. She felt naked in front of him.
"That is understandable. You will become accustomed to Hell, but you don't have to bring direct pain onto others."
Bella was listening. She watched the Hell Priest move to only lay down as he closed his eyes. She did the same, her pale eyes watching him as his face was peaceful. "Shhhhh."
Pinhead made the sound as Bella closed her eyes as well. They lay across from each other, listening to drips against stone and fire crackling in torch light.
Gingerly, she reached to touch his hand, grasping it as Pinhead gently squeezed hers in return.
They would remain there until Bella was ready to continue, and the Hell Priest would explain to her what the text truly meant.
Laslo sat in the common room upon a chair of human remains and soft leather, mending a small piece of clothing while it laid overtop of his huge belly. There was a soft hum escaping his lips, a smile crept upon his face. It was one of so few pleasures of his that didn’t involve torturing another. With care he embroidered a small flower, something that Briar enjoyed while on Earth. It was also something Pinhead remarked about upon easing himself into another chair.
“What is your secret dear friend, to having a tiny human share every emotion and pain with you?”
Of course, Pinhead had already known the answer as he took a sip from the wine glass he held. Butterball smirked, “It's one of my many pleasures- however innocent it is to be paternal.”
Pinhead craved those feelings, but couldn’t get even an ounce of emotion from Bella in return. The only thing that seemed to work currently was pain, but to his surprise- he didn’t enjoy inflicting it upon his apprentice. He sighed softly, gazing out the large window as he could see Leviathan gradually rotating above the maze.
—---------------------
They glimmered before her in a soft haze, nestled amongst the very roots of Leviathan himself as he guarded the memories, but barely stopped the tiny intruder. For a brief moment she searched, having already a mental map of the orbs belonging to her “family”. Suddenly, Briar came upon a small cluster as she grazed her fingers across the glassy surface, for a brief moment visualizing a warm beach and salty air blowing against her face.
Swiftly she retracted her hand, but then began to stuff them inside her bag as they gently clinked together. When she lifted the last orb, a vision of blood invaded her sight. A crumpled figure of gore was held by the Hell Priest, cradling it as he gently hummed to the mass. A sack of skin laid close by upon a table, along with surgical knives and hooks. Suddenly- the bloody creature held out its hand to touch his face, with it being met with a gentle kiss.
“There, there my dear, soon you’ll grow accustomed to the pain.”
Pinhead mused, Suddenly, Briar snapped out of the memory as she realized what she was witnessing. Quickly she left, her senses unable to pick up on a guard watching her.
