crookedcannibal-blog1 - Tumblr blog

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

“You’ve been out here all by yourself?”

    She sounds almost concerned. The idea of it amuses the hunter, but Samsons’ face didn’t flicker from that stone cold stare. By now Nestor had made it clear she wasn’t going to leave his campsite, so as long as she didn’t step too close to the bone-pits behind his tent, he would have to put up with her company. And if she pried too far or looked inthe wrong places.. well, he’d have more bones to add to the pits before the sun sets. The cannibal gripped his axe and brought it down in a chunk of wood.  “I’m always by myself.” It’s a short truth; Samson doesn’t have any interest in giving her any answer past that. He kicks the wooden splinters to one side before putting another chunk on the ground in front of him. But when she didn’t seem to take that as a cue to fuck off, he paused. The axe hovered, raised above his head. “...I don’t like people.” Another thud and he kicks the next load of splinters aside - imagining how easy it would be to bring it down on her skull if she stepped just a tad closer.  

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

unlucky-mockingbird:

Given the stranger’s attitude she surmised that it was unlikely anyone knew he was out here, especially considering she was given no information on a home being established out this far. It wasn’t in her interest to get someone evicted, though. If he felt comfortable out here that’s what mattered most, people took too much interest in ownership these days. His soft hostility only earned a polite smile as she gave a small nod of acknowledgement.

“It’s a lovely home and I-I am sorry if I ha-have brought any discomfort in being here.” The agent gave a small bow. “But I cannot leave yet. I hope t-that I may gain your permission to linger a while longer?” She would rather have it than continue the investigation without it. Who knows what this fellow had to protect out this way, or what his state of mind was. Nestor wasn’t keen on making enemies, especially during an investigation that would provide no backup for her.

The girl stood back up and peeled off the glove that adorned her right hand; the scars being ignored as she politely offered the limb for a proper introduction. “My name is Nestor Avani, sir. I w-would like to know yours but… no harm if you wish to k-keep it to yourself.”

 Samson only watched as the Agent stumbled over her words, before she offers a hand. It’s stared at as if she was offering him a piece of chewed gum, before his gaze flickers back to her. Stepping closer, it’s more visible that the light blue of his eyes was only so due to a pale film going across the iris and pupils-- he was stepping closer to be able to see the womans face properly.    His approach wasn’t an attack, but it wasn’t to encourage or return her politeness either; should the Agent investigate much further, she would start to find the burial grounds - even now he had a few bones, hair and parts of the body that he couldn’t find any use for tucked away in the rucksack on his back. It would be best if she left before she saw (or smelt) any of it. Samson doesn’t take the hand offered to him, instead making sure his stare was straight in her eyes as he towered over her.    “No permission.” It’s a simple sentence, a firm one, and Samson crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re leaving now.” 

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

what the fuck is intimacy? how does that work? letting…. people be close to you? what the fuck is int

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

The Walking Dead: The Game (Season One) : Sentence Starters

“This cane’s protected this place better than any guard dog ever could.”

“I actually agree with that plan.”

“People will often go mad when they believe their life is over.”

“Well I reckon you didn’t do it, then?”

“Oh you did NOT just say what I thought you did!”

“Yeah. Your right. You know guys, I think it’s going to be ok.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I wasn’t there for you now?”

“I’m really hungry _______!”

“You’re in no position to make demands.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“You’ve been out here all by yourself?”

“No way I’m gonna be able to bust trough that!”

“She’s/He’s my friend. We don’t leave friends behind.”

“One time I had a hamster, and it figured out how to open the door on its cage. It got out, and ate almost half a box of cookies…”

“Everything’s not fine. We need to figure out how this happened. We just lost everything!”

“You’ve always been there for me _______, always had my back when it mattered. ”

“You hurt that man’s face.”

“She/He keeps trying to help, but every time she/he does, she/he winds up putting the rest of us in even more trouble.”

“For some reason I tried to save that fuckin’ shitbird _______.”

“Are you threatening me old man? You are not going to like how that goes.”

“Even when I’m really angry I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Keep that hair short, _______.”

“Yeah, but don’t lick it. It’s gross!”

“It’s impossible to go through life without causing some kind of pain.”

“Don’t ask for whom the bell tolls…the bell tolls for thee.”

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

any words from bellamy? he should be back by now.                          he will be ok.

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

FAMOUS FIRST LINES OF POETRY bold the ones that apply to your muse

tagged by: stolen from @horrortrap tagging: anyone who wants 2 do it 

i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked  /  tyger tyger, burning bright  / i have done it again.  / do not go gentle into that good night. /  the sea is calm to-night. / let us go then, you and i, /  april is the cruelest month,  / pretty women wonder where my secret lies. / there is a place where the sidewalk ends / i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) /  two roads diverged in a yellow wood,  /  whose woods these are i think i know  / let us twain walk aside from the rest;  /  once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary,  / i taught myself to live simply and wisely  / it so happens i am sick of being a man  / i wandered lonely as a cloud /  does it dry up like a raisin in the sun ?  / o my love is like a red, red rose  /  o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done;  /  out of the night that covers me,  /  it was many and many a year ago,  / you may write me down in history /  do not stand at my grave and weep  / some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. / hope is the thing with feathers /  the wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,  /  no man is an island, / remember me when i am gone away,  /  i met a traveller from an antique land  /  ‘twas brillig, and the slithy toves  / this is thy hour o soul, /  when we wear the mask that grins and lies, / death be not proud,  / and death shall have no dominion. / laugh, and the world laughs with you; /  the art of losing isn’t hard to master; / to see a world in a grain of sand  / is there anybody there? said the traveler  /  nobody heard him, the dead man, /  that crazed girl improving her music.  /  come to me in the silence of the night; /  where the mind is without fear and the head is held high /   when you are old and grey and full of sleep,  /  in flanders’ fields the poppies blow  / i thought of you and how you love this beauty /  life, believe, is not a dream /  it may be misery not to sing at all,  / if starry space no limit knows  / come live with me and be my love,  /  had we but world enough and time, /  my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense  /  bright star, would i were steadfast as thou art– /  thou still unravish’d bride of quietness  / how do i love thee? let me count the ways. / heaven is what i cannot reach !  / my dear, my dear, i know  /  in visions of the dark night / shall i compare thee to a summers day?  / break, break, break  / she walks in beauty, /  i had a dream, which was not all a dream.  /  he clasps the crag with crooked hands.

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

[sticks me leg out] here’s samsons ic blog 

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

I love looking mean & unapproachable & pretending like I have no idea why ppl are intimidated by my aura

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

unlucky-mockingbird:

It’s such a shame when a woman who loves nature cannot even enjoy a single camping trip, case or not. Even nature had become tainted within her mind, try as she might she could not still the anxiety when simply thinking about nightfall. For now she’d cover as much distance as she could within the vast forest; the closer she came to her destination the better and the quicker she could extract the artifact the sooner she’d return to the artificial lights.

The map was useful when her signal was at a minimum; preserving it for a later need she prioritized utilizing what she could from data collected. Observing the notes jotted down along the border of the map she continued forward, determined to reach at least one landmark. Her mind is so engulfed she nearly went without noticing the stranger, the voice pulling her from her thoughts. Immediately she turned, perplexed to see another out this far - were others even permitted this deep?

“I-” Her brows furrowed; she was told she’d likely not be encountering civilians by this distance. “I’m s-sorry you feel that way. Do you live here?” Nestor questioned politely as she observed the large figure before her.

  Samson did something he didn’t do often - he hesitated; it wasn’t often that his presence or greetings were met with apologies and politeness. The smart ones usually ran. The dumb ones tried to fight. Some offered money to pass through, and the cannibal had taken that and some extra. People didn’t start a conversation with him. Unless they wanted something. He didn’t care about whether it was information or passage - he didn’t have any intention of giving either.    Her oddity had earned her a response, at least. Samson had stopped approaching as soon as she’d seen him, keeping a healthy distance for both of their sake. A heavy brow mimicked her expression, though his frown was more deep-set, lips pushed into a thin hard line as he stared her down. 

  “I do.” The cannibals’ voice was quiet, but carried over the short distance thanks to a deep tone. “And you’re not deaf.”  So leave, but Samson let that hang in the air unspoken. 

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

Gillis Mostaert - The Destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

 Samson paused. He could point the other to town, but the journey would take him past a few burials. Samson couldn’t quite remember if he’d hidden them properly ( or left them out as a warning )  and he didn’t want to have to answer any questions if the camper reported his findings. Killing the other wasn’t an option just yet. Not on a full stomach and not when he had enough mess to clear up already. So he disappeared from the open window.  He was only gone for a few seconds; the cannibal reappeared below the cabin atop the branches, climbing down the ladder and approaching the other. As he got closer, he realised how small the man was compared to him - though at his height, he was taller than a lot of people. 

     “I’ll take you.” 

“Yeah,” D said slowly, stretching word out into a sigh. “That’d work if I knew where I came from.” And he wasn’t about to just step into Twilight where some strange, tree dwelling hobo could see. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was exactly or if he could make it to one of the pools of plasm outside of the treehouse’s sight. “You know, you could just point me to town? That’d help a lot.”

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

I’m not a bad cook. 

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

    Samson let the strangers’ words hang in the air - they were a lot of words and not enough leaving, in the cannibals’ opinion. But eventually he shifts, blue eyes flitting to the area that the intruder had come from. Directions would be easy to give, but he didn’t feel like a good Samaritan. Not that he ever did.      “You’re not in a state park.” When he looks back at the stranger, his expression was still a stern frown. It doesn’t seem like the boy was lying. But that didn’t mean he was allowed here. Samson moves again, leaning back from the window with intents of turning his back on the other.           “Go back the way you came.”

D had been scouting out a place to camp, for at the very least he wanted to do it in his reality and be able to see the stars, even if he was on his own. He wasn’t paying too much attention to his surroundings, tired and distracted by the fact there were pools of plasm about - had people died in these woods to create these doors? - so the voice made him jump nearly out of his skin. He turned, saw the treehouse, and relaxed, smiling.

He was too friendly for his own good.

“Hi there sir! I’m very sorry. Am I trespassing? I had this map earlier, but the wind picked up and put it in a tree and even though I’m very good at climbing up, I can’t get down very well, so…” He shrugged and shifted from foot to foot, thinking. “Basically, I dunno where the fuck I am. I was in a state park, I thought.” 

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

  Without the screaming to deter him, the cannibal got to work. Samson did not cut the body with any grace or care for what specific parts would be better to eat; if he wasn’t catering to a guest prone to vomiting when presented with raw meat, he would have just eaten the camper there and then. But there was a mouth to feed back at the cabin.

So he takes out a serrated knife and hacks at the body. Even with the sharpened blade and how easily it cut through flesh, it would take a while to fully dismember the corpse. But Samson is patient; he’ll work until the rucksack is full (and stained, the blood soaking through the fabric).

The big cat’s attention is drawn to the near by camp sights at the sound of a shrill scream that made his sensitive ears pin themselves flat to his head. Moments later there was a new corpse in his minds sight. Animal attack? That throat was ripped out but.. No.. That was the dental imprint of a humanoid. Murder.

Intrigued, the panther stalked silently through the darkness towards the scene of the crime. He took care to go unnoticed, there was no breath nor heartbeat in him and his velveted paws picked out the quietest path.

He stops a few yards away from the murderer and his victim and settles down to watch.

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

[crookedcannibal-blog1]

Write a Headcanon about my character

If it’s good, it will become official.