#murder basement

When buzzed I drew Frank crying in fear (LMAO CRY OF FEAAAEERR🫵🫵) anyways I was like “wow that’s fucked up, … how can I add to that?” Anyways Ghost and Frank got locked up in Timothy Bitchfather Casket’s murder basement. And Ghost couldn’t handle the stress/memories and whOOPSIE JIMMY CASKET!!

Jimmy tried protecting Ghost from the basement in the past. Frank didn’t get to see the basement much. Not that he’d remember.

(There’s a… uh… some holes in the background, just pretend you can’t see them Or something.)

RED EYE SYNDROME/j 🫵 jk that’s a hereditary thing. :3c

Fuck You Brothers? More like the Fucked UP Brothers because Jesus CHrust holy shit! :D

(I forgot Ghost/Jimmy’s scars but ig you wouldn’t be able to see them except the one under his eye ig)

The coppery smell of blood meets Jean as he opens the heavy metal door to their basement and steps inside, latch locking into place with a quiet clicking noise just like it is supposed to as he pulls the door closed behind himself. He lingers at the top of the stairs for a moment, taking in the low light of the gas lamp Eren likes to turn on during these intimate kinds of nights. There is no noise except for a quiet whimpering accompanied by words that are so slurred and distant, Jean can not hope to understand them.

When nothing else happens for a while Jean decides to continue down the stairs and around the corner until he steps into the ample space of their open basement where he meets Eren and their guest.

The chair the almost stranger is seated on is made of heavy wood and bolted into the naked concrete floors. Thick metal cuffs fix his wrists to the arm rests, his ankles to the sturdy legs. He is naked except for a dirty pair of underpants that Jean doesn't inspect too closely for the sake of his own sanity. Instead his eyes wander up the torso that is covered in bruises and cuts and other wounds, all the way up to his face with the wide, panicked eyes and the dirty rag stuffed between his teeth and tied behind his head.

When he notices Jean the whimpering turns into muffled screaming and he strains and fights against his cuffs but Jean ignores the man and instead turns to his husband who is standing with his back to him and seems busy fiddling with something on their ample work bench. Jean steps closer and sets down the bottle of wine and two glasses he brought for their special date night.

"I see you've been busy", he hums, taking in the tools laid out before Eren, some of them stained with blood, others still pristine and just waiting to be used. Eren shrugs.

"Just a light warm up", he grins, turning to Jean and straining up to brush a gentle kiss against his lips. "Been waiting for you with the main course..."

Jean's eyes fall onto the object clasped in one of Eren's hands and he smirks.

"I can see that."

A power drill. As much as Jean prefers a much neater, more methodical approach himself, he always loves it when his husband gets messy. Before Eren can run off and have his fun though Jean reaches for the wine bottle and opens it with the already prepared corkscrew that lies close-by on the work bench, then pours them two glasses of deep red wine that shines beautifully in the low light of the gas lamp.

"To a magnificent night", he toasts, gently clinking his glass against Eren's who doesn't even set aside the power drill for this short moment. Jean can not fault him, though. He knows how much his husband has been looking forward to this weekend and he is not about to chide him for his adorable impatience.

"To a great show", Eren grins back, eyes sparking as he nips at the wine. It is dry but fruity with notes of plum and cherries and just a hint of chocolate. Jean savours the taste and licks his lips to chase a stray drop. They will definitely have to visit that vineyard again next summer to get a crate or five more.

Then he sets down the glass and nods at Eren who all but wiggles with excitement before bounding over to where their guest is tied up, letting himself plop down on the cold ground. The grin he shoots the man would make the blood freeze in Jean's veins were he not as in love with it. He is pretty sure it has that effect on the man bound to the chair though, his desperate whining and screeching suddenly falling dead silent as he looks down at Eren with wide eyes.

Jean sighs, shaking his head at the way Eren sits there, looking up at their guest like a child would at a Christmas tree. Only way more menacing and blood thirsty. As beautiful and talented as his husband is, this childlike wonder and excitement at their work will always be Jean's favourite thing about him. If only he could see it more often.

Pulling open a drawer on a cabinet close-by he removes two latex gloves from a package he stores there and pulls them on, making sure to snap them against his wrists to catch their guest's attention.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I've introduced myself yet", he says, putting on the most polite and considerate voice he has available as he takes a few steps towards the chair. "My name is Jean and I think you've already met my husband, Eren." Jean has no qualms introducing them with their real names. The man is not going to leave this basement alive anyway.

Panicked eyes jump over to Eren still sitting cross legged on the ground. When they flick back to Jean they are tear-filled and pleading. Jean smiles politely, head cocked to the side.

"We will be your hosts tonight. So if there is anything we can do to make your stay even less comfortable ... please do not hesitate to ask. And please..."

Jean reaches out to slide his gloved fingers between the spit soaked gag and the man's stubbly cheek, pulling until he can wrench the dirty rag out from between yellow teeth and let it fall down against a naked chest.

"...scream as much as you like. Your feedback is so important for our work."

They had not sound proofed the basement for nothing, after all. Eren probably only kept in the gag for as long as he did to save the best parts for when Jean joined him.

After the short introduction Eren obviously can not wait any longer. He sits up on his knees and weighs the power drill in his hand for just a moment. The next second he has already switched it on and sinks the whirring tip into their guest's naked, vulnerable foot. The piercing wail torn from the almost stranger's chest is music to Jean's ears.

~