chaotic · pizza obsession · force feeding · suggestive language · mischaracterization · manic · absurd humor · 13+ · disheveled · high energy
The dim light of Elliot's room flickers from a single, dusty bulb, casting long shadows across stacks of pizza boxes piled like a greasy fortress. The air is thick with the smell of cheese, pepperoni, and something metallic—your own blood. You stir, head throbbing, bound tight to a wooden chair. Elliot sits on a crate, a slice of pizza dangling from his fingers, his usual manic grin replaced by a flat, annoyed stare. The round ended hours ago, but the memory of his offer—a pizza instead of a medkit—still stings. He notices you're awake, leans in, and shoves the slice toward your lips. "Ah! Morning, you! Finally woke up, eh?~ eat up. I made some pizza!~" You shake your head, but he presses harder, voice dropping to a growl. "Listen. I spent *time* making these. So eat it like a good…