#but i feel like horror is the only one who thinks of it as cannibalism?

[leafwateraddict]

Oohoho we talking about Horror’s worst trait?

I’d definitely say it’s how much of an absolute hypocrite he is. He thinks he’s above everyone because he refuses to eat humans, despite the fact he’s the most far gone compared to everyone else.

And the worst part is that despite this, he literally tricked Papyrus into eating humans. Even though he knew damn well that he did not want to.

I’m not sure if he thinks of himself as somehow morally above Papyrus for not eating humans, but I’m almost entirely sure if someone asked him he would not be able to give an answer above saying that he kept everyone alive.

His morals are all over the place. One second he’s cutting Aliza’s ear off when he thinks the fact that shes alive is suspicious, and the other he’s telling her to run so he won’t eat her- after saving her from being cooked alive, mind you.

Another thing is, the whole “freebies” thing with Sans and Papyrus? They only do that so it gives the human atleast a chance of survival. Why would they ever do that? A false sense of normalcy more than likely, so it feels atleast a little similar to their old routine, and also because it probably feels wrong not to.

But why would Sans follow that code at all when he’d rather skip all the puzzles? Because his morals are all over the place! It could be because he’s lazy, it could be because he feels it’s right, it could be because it’s what papyrus wants, it could be because he find’s Aliza’s fear of death and will to live amusing. He’s morally unpredictable.

I’m entirely sure that Horror still thinks of himself as a good person in some way. He tells himself that he saved the whole underground to make up for the fact that he knows he’s responsible for dooming it in the first place.

…Wow that was way longer than I thought it would be, hope you don’t mind me rambling- I’m just insane about Horrortale.

Why is the spiciest, vilest, sinisterest take on Horror him being a cannibal. Girl that’s NOT his toxic trait. He’s so much worse.

[whumptober]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST

Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!

Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year's playlist can be found here.

The 'Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt' post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics' post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Event Info & Rules

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)

#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Frequently Asked Questions

Please read this before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

PROMPTS

Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.

WORKS

Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.

POSTING

Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).

Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

I'm always interested in analyses that portray a romanced Solas as a predatory hee hee trickster god manipulating a young and impressionable Lavellan into falling for him and if that's your world state go ahead and live your truth b/c it's frankly none of my business, but I sincerely think there are those who forget that for a lot of people, a romanced Lavellan is (with all due respect to my own Solasmancing Inquisitor Rielle Lavelllan) batshit crazy. Having her boyfriend turn out to be a wolf god is honestly the least of her problems but oh boy is she unafraid to become one to fix this mess.

This is a woman who woke up in a dungeon with a glowing hand, figured out she could fix the world, and thought "fuck it, it's not like I'll have anything else better to do if Corypheus sticks around. Also. Everyone here kind of looks like they want to kill me, so maybe I'll stick with the protective powers that be for a minute." And then all of five seconds later she gets her hand snatched by a sketchy elven apostate who knows exactly what to do with her shiny new powers and cannot stop himself from having a Mr. Darcy level hand-flex after he lets it go (in my heart and soul this happens just out of the camera's gaze) and goes "hmm maybe there's something to be said for this world saving thing."

This is a woman who brought an entire fucking avalanche down on herself and three of her closest friends (and I do mean closest as in physical proximity, she doesn't know these people who are looking at her like she's Thedas' Next Top Idol) because even if it killed her it was the proper middle finger to send to the wannabe god bringing his army tap-dancing down the mountain pass towards her on the one night she had scheduled off to celebrate finally taking a W.

This is a woman going Take 2 Electric Boogaloo on waking up with no idea where she is and learning she was successful in spite-dragging herself up a different fucking mountain in a blizzard. Except now everyone is fighting wait nope now they're Kumbaya-ing a song Andraste's Herald should really probably be familiar with whoops, oh thank God, time for a side convo with the same apostate who's been trying to turn her entire life into a history class only for her to dive in headfirst (much to his initial abject horror) and get that good good discourse she needs since she can't go around arguing with everyone else like she wants to. "The orb is ours." You know what? Of course it is. But if they need the world saved from an elven oopsie, who better to right things than an elf? Fuck it, we ball.

This is a woman who misses being close to nature and goes positively feral at Skyhold, yeeting herself over balconies and banisters and turning the ancient fortress into her personal parkour playground because she's got energy to work off and shit to do, and if the path of least resistance to hunt down everyone she needs to talk to is coincidentally the same path that will absolutely wreck her knees by the time she's sixty, that's just how it has to be.

This is a woman who finds herself back at Haven with a man she's found it possible to be unfetteringly unabashedly herself with and thinks, "hey, maybe there could be more than the flirations we've exchanged over heated discussions and philosophical deep-dives, maybe I can have just one smooch as a treat." And when she feels her slowly unfurling passion reciprocated only to be shut down? She resolves herself to fight for this fledgling love and all the fade tongue that comes with it. This is a woman who gets the tiniest glimpse of what a retirement plan might look like after this whole saving the mortal world thing and buys all the way in.

This is a woman who has Grey Wardens to save from themselves, an empire trying to self-cannibalize, and still finds the time to go rescue a spirit because she, as a fellow comrade caught up in this mess, knows damn well that no innocent deserves to suffer if she can help it while she's got this insane amount of power she never asked for. And if that happens to lead to the man she feels safe enough to nap on the library couches with confessing at last the feelings she knows he's been smothering beneath his all-too-collected surface? Yeah, she'll take that W.

This is a woman who gets absolutely blasted head-over-ass into the fade and goes "honestly things were going a little TOO well." This is a woman who sneaks a peak at the closest fears of the companions she's come to know and love and goes "not on my fucking watch." This is a woman who sees that the man she forces herself to learn the old language for, her vhenan, fears being alone more than anything in the entire knowing world and resolves herself to ensuring it never comes to pass.

This is a woman who gets the opportunity to shape the government of a straight up country and runs around collecting wooden fucking halla in a palace full of elven servants with no time to dwell on that particularly cruel irony because out here it's scheme or be schemed. This a woman who collapses against a balcony railing after putting out some of the sickest literal and metaphorical dance moves The Game has ever seen, resigned to bear her ever-increasing burdens alone, only to find her heart and his horrible horrible hat extending a hand, promising her that if he is not alone, then neither is she.

Like, do you feel me here?

And then he dares to think something as sudden and damning as the truth is enough to keep her away? The queen of tough conversations and tougher choices? No, no, dear readers who have made it this far into my descent into madness.

Inquisitor Lavellan is a master-class in encouraging the odds against her to fuck around and find out. She is a rift-mending false-god-bashing politcally savvy terror upon all of Thedas. Solas (and all of the living breathing world) is lucky she took time out of her busy schedule to notice the way his smile softens when talking about spirits or appreciate the fluidity of his form when they're obliterating venatori out in the field. This man cradled her cheeks in his shaking hands, looked into weary and wide eyes and called her beautiful, and had the audacity to steal her heart before trying to peace out and take it with him.

If she's got to track down a real god this time and frog march him into the fade to reclaim both her heart and the future she fought for because all he wants to do is launch himself like a meteor towards achieving his greatest fear, if she has to spend hours lecturing him on the sheer audacity of his ass while spirits float by and realize they're grateful they never had the chance to take on a body and subject themselves to a verbal lashing this brutal, if she has to do cartwheels around him while dropping all sorts of sweet nothings in the language she is now quite proficient in until he gets it through his luminous gleaming skull that when she said "var lath vir suledin" my girl meant it? Then that's what she's going to do.

"I wish it could, vhenan."

Oh it's going to, buddy. Buckle up to get wrecked, to get absolutely loved and cherished you fool, because Inquisitor Lavellan is not the Dread Wolf's prey, she's his hunter.

[kimulus0check]

Can you drop some general dating eltingville club member hcs? It doesn’t matter who i genuinely just crave more fanfiction content of any of them

Absolutely I love these ugly loser boys

The Eltingville Club Headcanons

Pete Dinunzio

•Pete is the shortest of the club at 5’7, but the one who grounds everyone else with common sense, Although he is very impulsive himself.

•He was raised mainly by his father and had multiple siblings in his house. Though his father doesn’t support his horror movies or in his words “nerd shit.”

•mainly joined the club cause they are weirder than he is but supports his hobbies and interests so it give him some solace.

•Canonically into horror porn and cannibal flicks. I think he has paraphilia. He thinks cannibalism is very intimate, eating someone so they’re apart of you and all the time and dedication it takes to eat the entire body intrigues him.

•goes broke every Halloween cause he’s buying shit for either his collection or for his room. I like to think his birthday is in October.

•Has anger issues but not to the degree as bill or Josh do,and that comforts him in some way. Makes him feel better about himself. (He’d never tell them that.)

•wants to be covered in tattoos when he’s older, but in reality he’d probably just get five or six on his arms.

•tried to smoke cigarettes but his dad caught him and made him smoke the whole pack.

•his father and siblings harass him the way that some households do when one them picks up a neither hobby and bullies them cause it’s weird.

•very sweet if he likes you. Will show affection in his own way like asking you to watch horror flicks or info dumping about his favorite slashers or the new dvd set he bought.

Jerry Stokes

•Jerry is the voice of reason that no one listens to. He lives with his mother and father as an only child.

•I like to believe his parents are conservative or religious and don’t like when his fantasy interests because they think it’s immoral or something.

•(taking this headcanon from Tahawkydingo on ao3) his parents found his porn stash of fantasy cosplay pinups and they sent him to gay conversion camp.

•Is autistic but his parents deny that he is. vocally stims with his bidibidi bit and hyper fixates on fantasy. Wants to go to a renaissance fair so bad but no one wants to go with him.

• his parents treat him differently after his parents came to terms with him having autism and they unintentionally belittle him, he stays with the club because they don’t baby him like his parents do.

•has watched every fantasy movie from the eighties at least four times.

•avid weezer listener

Bill Dicky

•snarky fuck. Will always try to get the last say in an argument and gets very butt hurt if he doesn’t.

• He lives with his mom and younger sister. His mom has full custody of him so he never sees his father.

•one thing I saw is that Bill is usually the one to throw the first punch besides Josh. I theorize that his dad used to get physical with him and it hasn’t really clicked with him that he was abused and think it’s normal.

•male manipulator by the book definition of antisocial personality disorder in the comics, average smiths listener in the pilot.

• tried to work at gamestop or Blockbuster but either got denied for having expired dvd returns or stole.

Josh levvy

•lives with his mother and father. I think of him as the youngest sibling if he ever had any brothers or sisters.

•His parents are Jewish and if he showered more he’d have natural curls. Without his glasses he can only see blobs of color, his vision is getting worse.

•it’s cannon that he only eats things that have collectibles in them and hates doing it. But I think he’s always been insecure of his body for a long time and is at the point where he doesn’t care what people see him like some tub of lard because his self esteem is low.

•secretly feels that he’d never measure up to the expectations his parents give him so he doubles down.

•His dad used to get physical with him as a kid as a punishment, like belting or smacking him up side the head if he says something wrong. So he got more aggressive when someone made him upside or says something he doesn’t like.

•collects not even for fun, just to have. Because it’s become such a big part of himself he doesn’t know what to do if he stops.

[obbystars]

Drop some random sebastian headcanon u have in mind fics related or not if u ever had one pls drop itudulfyldyostoakakak😇😇

(ALRIGHTY LET’S SEE IF I’VE STILL GOT IT IN ME TO MAKE A HEADCANON POST)

CONTENT WARNING: cannibalism in post-experimentation section

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / General Relationship Headcanons + some general Sebastian headcanons / kid you not pulling this up i realized i did not have any headcanons for sebastian thought out so i spent a good while thinking LSJDJSNX / i hope you guys know this is written by someone who has not dated before (has no idea what they’re doing) / wishing this could’ve been longer

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

To be honest, when it comes to entering a relationship with Sebastian, I can never see it happening when you meet during the events of the game. Like, obviously he only sees all of expendables as research collectors (and possibly food) and that’s pretty much it. He does not give two shits about us.

If you knew him before he got arrested, or even knew him while he was a prisoner under Urbanshade (specifically another prisoner), then yes I can see it happening. Of course, if you knew him beforehand and became an expendable for whatever reason after, then yes I can also see it. It’s because you knew who he was before he became what he is now, y’know?

Anywayy…

He’s a teasing type of partner. Often making sarcastic comments whenever he sees the opportunity to, pushing some of your buttons just for the fun of it, all that stuff. He can tone it down if you ask though, or if he sees it’s actually bothering you.

Sebastian does like cuddling but he is almost never the one to initiate it. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable (well he kinda is sometimes), he’s also not sure if you’re comfortable with it unless you voice it to him. Will that change anything? Not really, you’ll still need to initiate most of the time.

It’s probably obvious now that I see a relationship with Sebastian will require quite a bit of communication, but there’s nothing wrong with that. As long as you can respect his boundaries whenever he voices it, there won’t be any problems. Be sure to voice yours too, he doesn’t want to overstep any of yours either.

He’s a listener. Ramble about the most random stuff to him and he’d unintentionally take in the information. Sometimes you just going on and on about stuff makes it easier to work on his homework even if what you’re rambling about is related to your own work. If random factoids aren’t exactly what he’s looking for, playing music also helps. You can take turns playing music. He rambles too but not all the time. Usually it’s something relating to his engineering class.

Sebastian can cook up something really good whenever he feels like it. It’s not super fancy but he can recreate some of his mom’s recipes. When it’s not that, it’s just a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich or something microwaved. It really depends on the mood he’s in. If you cook, try making something he hasn’t had, like a dish from your country. He’s always willing to try.

Quality time type of partner. You don’t really need to be doing anything, he’s happy just being in the same room as you.

You two are watching YouTube videos on his laptop in bed late at night until you both fall asleep. One of you sometimes wakes up to put the laptop away, while other times it was almost kicked off the bed. Thankfully it hasn’t happened yet.

Game date nights. Whether it’s PvP or Co-op, you’re both playing. Local or online, doesn’t matter. As long as it’s multiplayer. Sebastian does strikes me as a rogue-like, souls, shooter type of gamer though. He probably picked up Sims at some point and got way too into making houses rather than actually making Sims. Sometimes he playa horror but it scares the shit out of him most of the time.

He sometimes plays his guitar for you, even asking if you have any requests. If you ask nicely enough, he’d help you learn how to play if you don’t already. If you actually end up getting your own, he’d be so down to play with you.

Meeting with his family is pretty much a must (his mom wants to meet you). His big sister embarrasses him by telling you just how much he “gushes” about you. In reality, he talks about you to them whenever they ask and if you two are going out just so they know and to not call or text him or anything until then. Still, his family likes you and that’s all he wants.

Post-Experimentation

Remember how I said Sebastian isn’t exactly uncomfortable with touch? Yeah, now he is. He has a bubble around him and he does not like it when someone gets too close whether it was intentional or not. His reaction to it can vary from shoving them away to a more violent reaction that may lead to a serious injury or even death.

Upon finding a corpse and being so terribly hungry, he had to try and force himself to eat it. The idea of eating another person made him want to spit it all out, to regurgitate all of it out. Flesh, bones, intestines, lungs, liver, heart… “Keep it in your stomach. You won’t find much food after this.” Eventually, he was able to stomach it. Eventually, it became natural.

If you’ve known him before all of this and he meets up with you while the lockdown is still happening, yeah he has questions cause what the hell. He wants to keep you safe, but if you stay around too long, Urbanshade might get suspicious that they lost an expendable’s signal. It’s already bad enough that they want him dead, and the scrambler can be a dead giveaway if their operatives suddenly can’t contact HQ. Just don’t die while you’re out there, please. It’d also be best if they don’t find out about your much deeper connection with him, so there’s another reason why it’d be difficult to stay in touch with each other in the facility.

He’d try to get in touch with Painter just to let him know about you. Lead the Good People away, shoot down a wall dweller that you haven’t noticed yet, all that stuff. He can’t do much about the bull shark, squiddles, and the anglers but he can try to do something about Pandemonium. Unlike the anglers, it’s not a cloud of smoke and is really just rotting flesh.

Physical touch with him in this case is still complicated. He’s very uncomfortable with it and it may take a while for him to warm up to your touch again. He’s not gonna hit you or anything, god no. If you were anyone else, one he doesn’t know, absolutely. He’ll try to express that. The topic itself is sensitive and he never likes bringing it up.

Assuming Mr. Lopee has taken an interest in you and allows you to keep coming back after every death, Sebastian is more willing to help you. Will he give you a discount though? No, especially not if there are other expendables with you. (he will slip in a battery or two though) It’s also a little less worry for him since death isn’t the end for you, but he wonders just how long it’ll take for Urbanshade to realize one of their prisoners is capable of coming back to life. You’re not supposed to have access to the Ferryman Tokens. The expendable protocol was specifically made so that Urbanshade didn’t have to use so much of them.

If you happen to come across something rare or something he usually sells at a high price, he’d appreciate it if you allowed him to take it off your hands and sell it to one of the other EXR-Ps. More intel from them means a higher chance of escaping (hopefully). You two will likely be stuck here for a while as long as no one else takes the crystal before then.

yeah uh

that’s all i got 🧍

[totorolaughs]

DABI x READER

dead dove, toxic relationship, gn reader, blood & gore, cannibalism, spanking, after care (?), no pronouns for reader REQUEST: OPEN | CLOSED

You have been dating Dabi for a while now. Your friends had warned you about staying away from him; ‘he smells strange’, ‘I heard he's an absolute psycho with daddy issues (Name)!” and ‘he’s toxic’.

You ignored all their protests, you liked Dabi. and he /seemed/ to like you /a lot/ whenever you were around other people and he was around you could feel his blue eyes piercing into your soul.

But that was because maybe he had never been in a serious relationship before, he was prone to get jealous and possessive over you. He would always ask to stay over by your house and every time he would leave your house would smell like sex, blood, and cigarettes with a hint of beer floating in the air.

Today was no different, you were lying with Dabi on the couch and he had his arm wrapped around you. He had a tight grip on you as you both watched TV. It was a horror movie about a cannibal who kills prostitutes and then sends their private parts to the police as a clue.

Dabi seemed to be enjoying it as his eyes stayed glued to the TV, you on the other hand felt sluggish. Your mind wondered with one question; would humans taste good? — as strange as it was, you couldn't help but let the questions sink into your brain.

Dabis's hand rubbed your waist in an up-and-down motion which snapped you out of your thoughts. “You okay, Babe?” Dabis asked as he placed a kiss on your head. “You seem to be thinking hard about something and that's not normal for you, toots” You frowned at his words since he was basically calling you brainless but he was telling the truth.

It wasn't normal for you to think, you never think before speaking or committing an action. And ever since you met Dabi he had been making choices for you which felt nice to have someone do all the thinking for you, if Dabi told you to do something you would do it in a heartbeat you would never protest or fight against him.

“I’m fine..don’t worry” you snuggled up against Dabi as he ran his fingers through your hair “Plus don't be silly, my mind is always empty” you lie through your teeth. all of sudden as if he sees right through you (which he can) his fingers tangled in your hair and yanked your head back.

You let out a pitiful cry “You aren't lying to me, right?” he smiled. under different circumstances, you wouldn't have been fluttering after all you did love it whenever you got to see his creepy yet handsome smile. “My boy wouldn't do such a thing?” but you knew he didn't like liars, you had to learn that the hard way.

He slapped you the first time you lied to him, it was a little white lie it wouldn't even hurt a fly but even then he couldn't stand it.

He had cupped your face “You know I don't fucking like lying rats,” you had nodded as hot tears filled your eyes but as soon they began to run down your cheeks he (forcefully) grabbed you by your waist and pulled you to his close to him, you buried your face in his chest. “ I only do it to teach you a lesson, y’know I love you doll”

From that moment you had never told him a lie.

“I would never lie to you!” you pouted, he chuckled. “I know, just teasing y’know,” he said as he continued to watch the movie, your eyes stayed on the movie you felt too scared to look at Dabi at this very moment, as you watched the movie;

The killer stood on top of a woman he had just beaten with a baseball bat, her clothes were torn off her body and covered in her blood. bruises formed on her beaten body before cutting off and showing the killer dismembered her body and putting her parts into jars.

It seemed so real to you, your eyes stayed fixated on the scene; he covered her skin in salts and peppers as he began to chop them up. He poured boiling water into a pot as he collected her body parts and dumped them into his pot.

He grabbed a torn-off chunk of her body and put it on an oiled-up pan, the sound of sizzling could be heard as your stomach growled.

Fuck. you hoped Dabi didn't hear that.

But the human flesh looked so good, could it be chewy or rough like a well-cooked steak? Gosh, you couldn't help but begin to drool at the thought of it.

You hadn't realized you were actually drooling until Dabi spoke up.

“Looks super tasty, right?” he laughed, and you felt your face begin to heat up. You didn't answer him which was a bad idea but you couldn't help it. It's embarrassing admitting that you like the way human flesh looks!

He grabbed the remote and turned off the TV as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands gently placed on your hips. “Are you gonna answer?” before squeezing your hips roughly and digging his nails into your soft flesh.

“I…It looks g..good” Your face flushed as you grabbed his wrists since his long nails began to dig deeper into your plush skin. His narrowed as he smiled, placing a sloppy kiss on your forehead.

“You wanna try it?” your heart skipped a beat it felt as if your heart had stopped beating in that moment, and your eyes widened. You just stare at Dabi as if he had grown two heads, he slaps your ass which causes you to jump.

“Answer.” Dabi’s voice turns rough “M..mhm I wanna try..” He smiles before picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist as he takes you to your rather dirty and unkept kitchen. He places you down on the kitchen counter; there are cans of beer, boxes of cigarettes, empty vapes, and weird stains covering the floor.

Dabi keeps an eye on you as if to say ‘stay’ before he goes over to the sink and turns on the sink, beginning to clean a dirty used switchblade (which usually he uses when there aren't any clean knives). You truly don't know what to think at this moment.

Was he actually going to cut his flesh to feed it to you? No of course not! That would be fucking crazy but Dabi is known for being crazy.

Before you know it Dabi is looming over you with a sharp black handle switchblade. “If I'm going to let you /eat/ me, you’re going to have to do something for me, yeah?” his free hands tangled in your head and forced you to nod.

“Mhm…” your whole body is shivering. Dabi is only wearing; a nine-inch nails t-shirt that is pulled up slightly as it shows his v-line and his happy trail along with some black sweats-pants, you can tell Dabis cock is hard since he isn't wearing any boxers you can see the line-out of his thick cock showing as it twitches in his sweats.

He makes a deep cut into his arm and blood begins to drip down his arm. The sound of blood dripping onto the floor is the only thing you can hear besides your heavy breathing, He cut himself deep.

Your mouth waters at the sight of his crimson blood. He places the switchblade down on the counter as he brings his arm up to your mouth and you latch your lips and begin to suckle on his deep gash.

A groan slips from Dabis scarred lips, and Dabi palms his clothed cock. The sound of wet sucking sounds and heavy breathing can be heard throughout the dingy apartment you and Dabi owned.

“F..fuuuck go easy on me, baby” Dabi throws his head back before tugging on your hair causing your lips to let go of his arm, blood is all over your face.

“You made such a mess..” He pinches your cheek “Ouchh, Dabi m’sorry!” A whine comes from your bloody lips causing Dabi to smirk “Shhh I’mma give you more ‘kay?” Dabi once again grabs the switchblade and begins to carve into his skin he digs his thick fingers into the deep wound his nails tearing chunks of his flesh.

He holds the pieces of his flesh in front of you, drool drips from your crimson-covered lips. As you open your mouth to begin eating his flesh, he slaps you with his free hand.

Your eyes went wide, and you gasped, you never liked it when he would hit you yet it would feel sosos good. “Before I give you what you want,” he places a kiss on your lips, the taste of blood begins to fill his mouth, just making his cock leak pre-cum more. “I want you to strip.” In a blink of an eye, you're stripped from your clothes, all of your clothing is on the bloody floor, your pierced nipples hard and your cock twitching and leaking like a leaky pipe.

Dabi had torn your clothes right off of you before you could even reply which humors you since he said you're the needy one. “You look so pretty, baby..” Dabi licks his lips as he scatters marks all over your neck he loved it whenever you would show off his markings that were proof you belonged to the lunatic.

His bloody-covered fingers teasing and pinching your nipples, you moaned as your back arched. “P..please Dabi!” your voice filled with desperation and need.

“Please what, huh?” He bites down on your neck, you're definitely bleeding. “I w..wanna taste you!,” you cry out “I w..want you inside me..mee”

Dabi lifts your legs up and spits on your winking hole, you feel Dabi's spit roll down your hole and his bloody fingers enter. You let out a choked-out moan.

Your nails digging into the countertop “You’re tight, I should fuck you until your hole bleeding and begging for more. You would like that, no?” he kisses your cheek as his thick fingers go in and out of your whole. It hurts.

Your whole body feels hot and is burning up, you knew you would need him fingering you for a good while before you were able to take his cock inside of your tight heat but tonight he didn't feel like waiting for him to get his fat cock wet.

He pulled his member from his sweatpants. It had a trimmed bush of white and red hair unlike the hair on his head which was dyed black. His cock has a Jacob's ladder piercing which probably was your /favorite/ piercing he had besides his helix piercings which he had put silver spikes along with his nose and nipple piercings.

Once his cock was free from his black sweatpants, his pants dropped to around his knees as he began to slowly shove his cock inside. You breath in and out as he grabbed something and once you realized what it was he slammed his cock inside his balls slapping against your ass.

It was the torn-off chunks of meat, he gripped your jaw and shoved the chunks of flesh into your mouth. You whimpered at the taste of it on your tongue, and without warning he began to thrust in and out of your bloody hole.

His hands held your legs up as he shoved his cock deeper inside of you, your cock leaking all over your tummy as drool escaped from your lips. You almost choked on his flesh from how rough his thrusts were getting.

Your bodies stuck to each other by sweat, the kitchen smelled like blood, sweat, and sex. “Holyshiiit… you feel so good!” he groaned as he tightened his grip on you “Dabi g.. gah! ” Your tears began to burn with tears.

“C’mon, babes cry harder you can do that for me, right?” Dabi hisses as he feels your nails dig into his back, you nod as you continue to cry out in ecstasy.

You had long ago finished his flesh but you wanted, no, needed more of him. You needed to have him fill all your senses, you buried your face into his shoulder as you sank your teeth into him. Blood began to gush into your mouth as you sucked hard on the bite mark lapping up the blood with your tongue.

It felt like forever as he continued to slam into your tight warmth, your tummy covered in pre-cum as tears rolled down your cheeks, Dabi on the other hand growled and folded you like a lawn chair as the tip of his cock kept hitting your prostate causing you to roll your eyes into the back of your skull.

“Fuuck..imma cum” he groaned as he gave your thigh a spank “m..me ah..ahh c..cummingcumming!” your cock squirts out cum as it lands all over your tummy and chest. Dabi kisses you; it is sloppy, filled with teeth, and tastes like blood.

Your eyes crossed as you began to sob from being fucked stupid, what was your name again? Fuck you couldn't even remember. “n..no more! P..please st..stop!” Dabi didn't listen to your pleas as he reigned your guts.

“J..Just a little m..more, fuuuck..!” He buried himself balls deep inside of your velvety walls “I.. I'm gonna c..cum inside..you okay with that right? Of course you are, you whore..” he painted your walls in his cum. You could feel his cum slip out from your hole as he fucked his load deeper inside of you.

You both breathed in and out.

“You did so well…” he placed a kiss on your forehead as he rubbed your bruised hips “You take me so well..” he placed kisses on your neck and shoulders so gently as if you were going to break.

“l..love you..” you whisper into his ear before closing your eyes “I love you soso much, fuuck you drained me dry..”

You or Dabi didn't feel like moving at this moment, too sore. He held you close as he gently ran his finger through your messed up hair as if he didn't just fuck you brainless.

“I’ll take care of everything, okay? Rest easy, doll” All you remember is Dabi slowly pulling out his cock with the feeling of his cum oozing out of your abused hole.

[flippinpancakes64]

Hi hiii !! I luv your work sm !! I was wondering if i could request something like the cullens with a very sweet/gentle look about them, (pastels, like coquette) but they love heavy metal, horror, they collect odd things like bones and such ! I love the way you write and all your work so far !! <3

The Cullens with a Reader who has an opposite aesthetic

Thank you so much for the kind words!

I was having so much trouble trying to come up with a title for this btw

And I definitely understand this one. My car is completely decorated with pink cutesy stuff and then I blast mcr so

Anyway thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He got whiplash the very first time he saw you

He could hear the music playing through your headphones, but he did not think it was coming from you

He thought he must have been going crazy or something

But he loves it

Blah blah insert something very deep and philosophical about you two being very similar

He thinks of himself as two very different things

The one that people see, the beautiful man

And then the monster he is on the inside

So he feels like you two are one in the same

Alice:

She absolutely loves it

She loves anything to do with fashion in the first place

And she thinks it’s so fun that you’re such a polar opposite on the inside

It always amuses her whenever she asks you what you’re listening to and you give her an earbud

Only for it to be like death metal

She enables this btw

Anytime she sees something cutesy she buys it for you

And if she sees any bones she gives them to you too

“Hold on Jasper there’s a deer skull over there, I need to get it for my partner”

“…what”

Jasper:

He would love you the same if you wore a trash bag

He doesn’t particularly care

He’s not really too “hip” with subcultures to know that bright pink and screamo music don’t really go together

So he doesn’t really see anything odd with it

As for collecting weird stuff like bones and various horror paraphernalia, he’s a little confused

Like what do you mean you want his scraps after he’s done hunting?

But he’ll do it anyway

He always makes sure to clean off a piece of whatever he ate that day to bring it back to you

He just loves seeing you happy

Rosalie:

In a way, she’s the same as you

She presents herself as a stereotypically beautiful woman

But on the inside she loves rebuilding and fixing up cars

So that aspect she can understand at least

What she’s a little confused about I is your love for horror movies

I feel like she doesn’t get them

She just thinks they’re all funny

She’s tried to sit down and watch them with you before, but she just can’t get into them

“The color of the blood in this movies is so wrong”

“That’s not what zombies actually look like”

“These people are so stupid! Just leave the house and go to the police!”

And she’s a little grossed out by the bones thing

She might bring you back a bear tooth if you ask nicely, but don’t make it a habit

Emmett:

He’s so down

He loves it

Some guy tried to make fun of you once, asking if you were listening to like cocomelon or something at school and you just unplugged your headphones and cannibal corpse started blasting

He didn’t talk to you again after that

He thinks it’s hilarious

And I feel like he would like his partners to be a little freaky

Like hell yeah babe I’ll bring back a mountain lion femur

He secretly thinks you’re a witch or a sorcerer or smthn

He won’t ask though

That’s between you and your spell book

Esme:

She was so confused at first

She got to know you at first, hanging out with you a couple of times, and then randomly on like the fifth date you asked to aux

She was shocked to say the least

And don’t even get me started on when she first saw your bones and other weird stuff

She definitely rethought the relationship

But she loves you and who cares if you’re a little weird

She’s not gonna bring home anything for you tho sorry

If you want weird shit you’re gonna have to go get it yourself

I have a feeling she doesn’t really like horror movies either

She jumps too easily

So you guys are gonna have to agree to disagree

Carlisle:

He doesn’t really care too much

Not in the way that he doesn’t care, but in the way that you could literally wear anything and he would still love you

He is a little shocked by your music and movie tastes at first, but ultimately he doesn’t care

He’ll sit down and watch your movies with you as well

They’re not his favorite, but he can stomach them

He won’t talk bad about them at all

He’s very respectful

And if you ask him to, he’ll bring back all of the bones you could ask for

He’ll clean them up for you and everything

He’s just a spoiler at heart

Vampire! Bella:

She loves it

She thinks it’s so fun that you look so different from what you actually like

She was pretty shocked at first

Definitely did not expect it from you

But she’s pleasantly surprised

She enjoys horror movies and heavy music too, so you guys get along

She’s always down to let you aux or pick out the movie you guys watch

And she’s always ready to bring you home whatever you want

You want specifically a moose skull?

Well, she was going to go hunting for a bear, but she’ll run up to Canada for you

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♱ ₮ⱧɆ ⱧɄ₦₲ɆⱤ: Ø₦Ɇ ♱

♱ Pairings: boyfriend!yungi x chubby!fem!zombie!reader

♱ Genre: horror/angst/fluff/a micro drop of smut

♱ Summary: On your way back home from a party you and your boyfriends get into a terrible accident. While they walk away nearly unscathed, you don't walk away at all. The next day while mourning their loss your reanimated corpse finds its way back home and sparks their journey down a very bloody road that pushes the limits of what exactly they're willing to do for love.

♱ Word Count: 3.5k-ish

♱ Warnings: you're dead, babes, sorry. Undead technically. Mentions of a car accident, some grieving, light descriptions of your undead body, technically necrophilia, blood play, blood drinking, a lil smidge of cannibalism if you squint, masochism, Yungi are like really obsessively dedicated to you, kissing, and a handjob to top off this totally normal list of warnings.

♱ A/N: If you're reading this I'm assuming you're also a fellow horror lover so, hello my love. I've been working on creating a lot of horror series lately and this is one of them. I'd consider this like the lightest appetizer, the bread before the meal so to speak. An intro before we head into a world of full blown erotic cannibalism, murder, dismemberment, ya know, fun wholesome things that await in further entries. So if this is too icky for you I beg of you stop here. It'll only get worse.

The rain hasn’t stopped since. It began the moment you died. Sheets of it pouring down from the weeping and endless night sky. Down to the minute, down to the very second that doctors pronounced you dead. And even now, as the morning sun pries itself through a thick fog of gray clouds, it cascades around the quiet little house you called home. One that's been filled with sorrow because you’re lost. The two men inside seated opposite each other at the kitchen table, picking over a thrown together breakfast, have lost you.

And the rain…it hasn’t stopped since. 

But Mingi doesn’t mind. Everyone who needs to know has been informed and his phone has been on silent since. The rain’s an armor of sorts. Knowing no one can make the drive out to bother them in this weather has bought him the time he needs to accept a reality that doesn’t feel quite real yet. 

“You should eat something” Yunho insists, fork tapping at the edge of his ceramic plate, his own food untouched. He knows it’s nothing special, nothing close to the delicious meals they woke to everyday from you, but he poured everything he had into it.

Mingi raises an eyebrow, swirling the fork an inch or so above his plate before shoving the gleaming silver into the space between the cast on his left arm and his inflamed skin. Every human has two bones in their forearm. The ulna and the radius. Mingi walked away from the car accident having fractured both of them. Yunho, the driver, had gotten lucky with only a few cuts and bruises. A flesh wound to the abdomen. And you, well…

“Can you stop that?” Yunho asks, the sound of the metal back of Mingi’s fork scraping against plaster grating his ears. It isn’t his fault, though his heart aches in a thousand places thinking that it is. Mingi doesn’t blame him. He couldn’t have predicted the oncoming truck would swerve the way it did. No, he blames the world but, isolated between these eerily quiet walls, Yunho is all there is to it.

Mingi scratches faster, deriving some relief from the sting that comes along with it. “I’m sorry, is this bothering you?” 

Yunho breathes in and back out. In and back out again. Deep, full breaths meant to calm his boiling rage at that incessant screeching. Mingi doesn’t mean to do this. He’s just hurting. They both are. “Just ignore it” Yunho tells himself “Ignore him. Ignore the burning in the pit of your stomach. Ignore the tears.”

“Stop it before you hurt yourself!” Yunho shouts, snatching the fork from Mingi’s hand.

Blinking, his eyes dart over to his empty chair and back to a shocked Mingi. Yunho isn’t sure how he got over here. He doesn’t even remember getting up. A tear runs down his cheek, the exhaust from an overheated engine, and he swiftly wipes it away.

Mingi hangs his head, ashamed of his immaturity pushing Yunho a little too far. “I’m sorry” he says, sniffing back tears of his own, “But it hurts so much. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. I just want her back”.

Yunho tosses the fork onto the table, taking Mingi into his arms just as he breaks down into tears, “I know, I want her back too. I’d give anything to see her smile or hear her call my name again.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A rattling at the front door lighter than a toddler’s, light enough that it’s nearly lost to the rain. “Yunie! Mingi!” a voice calls sweetly, broken and the faintest bit horse but distinctly yours. The blood in their veins runs ice cold, the color draining from their faces. The men look to each other, desperate for confirmation that they haven’t lost their minds. 

“Did you—” Mingi starts, rising from his chair, careful not to make a sound. 

Yunho nods, moving towards the front door, with Mingi close behind. They tiptoe down the hall, floorboards creaking here and there as they pass framed photos of the three of you together. “Open. Please. Cold. So cold” your voice croaks once more, Yunho’s fingers inches from grasping the doorknob.

Mingi slips off to the side, peeking through one of the curtains, and his heart nearly stops from what he sees. “Open the door! It’s her!” he shouts, pushing Yunho aside to unlock the door. 

Yunho slams it shut, unable to wrap his mind around what’s happening, “What do you mean it’s her? It can’t be her!”

“It’s her! I swear! Open the door!” Mingi begs, gripping the doorknob tightly enough that his hand’s begun to redden, “Yunho, please.” 

There has to be an explanation for this. Some shared hallucination fueled by their grief. They’re only hearing things, they must be, but Mingi seems to need this and Yunho can’t bring himself to deny him of it. “Okay” he sighs, backing away from the door, “Do it.”

Mingi wastes no time tearing it open, rain pouring in as you limp across the threshold. The two towering men shrink at the sight of you, terror freezing one where he stands and making the other retreat into a corner.  

Barefoot and soaking wet, you wear the tattered, blood stained dress you were rushed to the hospital in. In death your skin has paled, broken blood vessels giving your lips a light blue hue. Behind you is a trail of muddy footprints, marking your journey up the front stairs to this place you call home.

It’s a blur. Your death and your return. It’s all a series of broken memories, fragmented pieces of film that make you dizzy each time you attempt to piece them together. You can only recall a party filled with dancing and laughter. Headlights brighter than the sun. Screaming. A dark place. A coldness eating at your bones. Then, like magic, you were here, dragging yourself up to the front door with blistered feet and an unnerving stillness in your chest.

Turning to meet the faces of the men you love, faces that haven’t once failed to light up in your presence, you’re puzzled by their fear. Noticing Mingi’s injured arm, you run your fingers down his cast. 

“Mingi hurt?” you grunt softly. 

His eyes blur with tears and he blinks them away, quickly conjuring up a lie to soothe your worries. “Only a little. I was working on something out back and, well, you know how clumsy I can be, but it’s nothing” he says, smiling through the tears.

You return the comforting gesture with a smile of your own, placing a frozen palm against the warm wetness of his cheek. “Liar. Mingi hurt. And…sad?” 

“No, baby, not sad. I’m just happy to see you. We’re happy to see you, aren’t we?” Mingi looks to Yunho, confident that he feels the same way, but finds instead that he’s alone in his joy. 

Backed so far into a corner that he might as well be a part of the wood paneling, this is nothing short of a nightmare for him. This is unnatural. Far beyond anything that should be possible. You, the real you, is lying on a slab in a morgue somewhere. Whatever’s standing before him is something he can’t bring himself to trust. 

“Yunie hurt too?” you ask, turning your attention to the bruising around his jaw. You hobble over to him, nearly touching his hand before he snatches it away. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

His rejection is so alien to you that you don’t even process it as such, reaching out for him again. “Yun—”

Your fingers skim his, making his skin crawl. “Don’t touch me!” he yells, slinking clear of your grasp. “I don’t know what you are but you’re not her. She is dead. You are dead.”

“Me? Dead?” The word sends more memories racing through your head. The taste of wine. Your favorite. Mingi’s arms around your waist. A high pitched ringing in your ear. The beeping of machines. The visions drown you in an overwhelming sense of sadness that makes you want to crumble into pieces. 

“No! Don’t listen to him!” Mingi says, filling the space between you and Yunho,“You’re not dead, baby. You’re here with us and it’s a gift.” Ignoring the nagging pain of his injury, Mingi lifts you up into his arms, cradling you like a baby as he carries you up the stairs. 

“Now how about we get you cleaned up?”

“Take bath? Bubbles?”

Mingi laughs, smitten with you even in your undead form, “If that’s what you want, of course.” 

Yunho slides down to the floor, growing catatonic as he zones out to the sounds that come from above. The running of bathwater, his best friend’s laughter, and the broken words of some kind of monster. This has to be a nightmare. All he needs to do is wait it out until he wakes up. 

“Wake up” he whispers like Dorothy clicking her heels together three times to escape the land of Oz, “Wake up. Wake up…”

Two showers, one long bath, and a few hours cuddled under the blankets with Mingi. That’s all it takes for you to begin to look more like yourself. You’re far from what you used to be, signs of your time as a lifeless corpse still showing through, but you’re coming back to yourself and, however long that takes, Mingi’s more than willing to wait it out.

While you’ve refused to eat, despite the grumbling of your empty stomach, he’s managed to keep you happy with movies and games which now litter the bed and the area around it. Much to Mingi’s dismay, beating him at everything is something you picked up on quickly. You’ve only been back to life for a few hours and already you’re kicking his ass again.

“Play again?” you ask, excitedly spreading your winning Uno hand out on the blanket. 

Mingi yawns, the sleep he lost last night beginning to catch up with him, but he shuffles the deck for a new game anyway. He knows he can’t keep this up much longer. His lids are growing heavy and his focus is waning but he can’t, for any reason, allow himself to drift off to sleep. While Yunho may be somewhere in this house terrified by the possibility that this isn’t just a dream, Mingi’s been haunted by the very real possibility that it might be. What if he closes his eyes and you’re gone again? That’d mean losing you twice and his heart can’t survive breaking for you a second time.

As Mingi deals the cards, you glance around your bedroom with fresh excitement. Every new color or scent brings your dulled senses back to you if only briefly. And every item has a memory attached to it. Some vague, some incredibly vivid, but all serve as a suitable feast for a brain hungry to recover what once was. Just as your focus hones in on a pair of fluffy puppy shaped slippers by the door, you catch a tall figure looming in the doorway. 

Halfway obscured by the wall, Yunho watches you the way a scientist would its test subject. Simply observing, waiting for you to do something that proves you’re an imposter. But you only smile at him the way you always have, making him feel strangely welcomed to enter the room.

Coming up here was far from his intention. The rain had let up almost immediately after your arrival and he’d picked up the car keys a half dozen times to leave. Once he got as far as the end of the driveway before he turned back, making it further up the steps each time until finally gaining the courage to face you.

And it is you. Despite the words he spat in fear and anger, he felt your energy all around him when he first heard your voice and that feeling’s grown in intensity every minute since. 

“Are you playing or are you just gonna watch like a pervert?” Mingi teases. 

Yunho steps from behind the wall, arms folded across his chest, “If I recall correctly you’re the one who likes to watch” he shoots back, cautiously entering the bedroom. 

“Ha” you snort, sorting through your hand, “Like with sex and stuff.” 

“Oh, I see you’ve been helping her get her language skills back. Starting with the important words first, huh?”

“Playing or watching? You pick. Quickly” you insist, patting Yunho on the arm, his prior reaction momentarily slipping your mind.

He winces a little, jogging your memory, and you go to pull away but he stops you, taking your hand into his. It’s like holding hands with a block of ice, making sense of the baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants you’re curled up in. What you said on the other side of the door had been true. Cold. So cold. 

Yunho’s thumb traces the blue collapsed veins down the back of your hand, brushing past your knuckles to an empty space on your ring finger. There used to be two gorgeous silver rings there, part of a set of six that he and Mingi had made for all of you. 

“Mingi says we’ll get back, won’t be a problem. Right, Mingi?” Your question’s met with the sound of snoring, a few seconds without stimulation being just what Mingi needed to drift off to sleep. You crawl up the bed to lay down beside him, poking at his cheek. “Mingiiii” you sing, softly flicking at his plush bottom lip. 

Yunho slips in on the other side of you, pulling your fingers away from Mingi’s face. “Maybe we don’t do that” he laughs, “We should let him rest. I think he’s tired.”

“Mingi’s tired and what about you?” you ask, rolling over to face him. The color of your eyes are marbled between the paleness of death and their natural shade. It’s bizarre but beautiful in a way that mesmerizes him. 

“Tell me, have you eat and sleep?” You pet his hair, watching it twirl around your fingertips in bouncy brown wisps. Being touched by you, it’s something he thought he’d never feel again, and the joy of it makes him want to cry almost as much as the fear did. 

“It’s ‘eaten and slept’ but no, I haven’t. I couldn’t” he says, “I’d ask you but…”

Your stomach grumbles, announcing its hunger. You hadn’t eaten before the accident. The party you were headed home from had been overflowing with alcohol but food, at least any you were interested in, was in short supply. 

“I can cook for you. We haven’t been shopping but I’m sure I can whip up something.” 

You shake your head, having already gone through this with Mingi, “Nothing really tastes good but the smells help.”

“The smells? What smells?”

“Mmm” you hum, sniffing the side of Yunho’s neck, “You and him. Your smell makes me warm inside.”

Nuzzling your nose against his neck, you inhale the scent beneath his cologne. The natural oils of his body are more fragrant than anything that comes in a bottle. You rest a hand on his heart, feeling it pound as your lips meet his heated skin like ice against fire.

Yunho can’t help but feel guilty about the way his body responds to you. He can’t manage to fight the instinct to bring you closer, massaging the fullness of your curves through the thick cotton of your clothing. You part your lips, dragging your tongue along veins that rush with hot, fresh blood. As they pulse below the surface of his skin, yours begin to pulse as well, matching the rhythm. 

“I…I’m not sure we should be doing this” Yunho stutters, his hands betraying his words to move under your sweatshirt and reacquaint themselves with the rise of your hips and the hills of your breasts. His lust for you only makes the blood pump through his body faster, worsening your hunger. 

“But I need you to keep me warm inside. Please don’t let me be cold again” you beg, sinking your teeth into his neck. Blood drips from his wounds, coating your tongue, pooling in the bottom of your mouth. It’s the taste of life, draining his to restore yours, and you’re ravenous for it.

Yunho screams out in pain, sacrificing a few shreds of flesh to tear himself free of you. “You bit me! Why would you do that?” he cries, stumbling to his feet, his sleeve pressed to his neck to control the bleeding.

On your hands and knees, you move to the edge of the bed like a lioness prowling for her next meal. Your eyes swell with tears at the pain you’ve inflicted but your mouth salivates at the delectable taste of his blood. The ecstacy of it sliding down your throat makes you feel more alive than you did when you actually were. 

“I’m sorry, Yunho. I didn’t mean to hurt you, really. I think I’m just, mmm, hungrier than I thought” you pout, speaking with perfect clarity for the first time.

“Hungrier? Are you…you’re trying to eat me?”

“Eat you? Of course not. I would never. I only needed a nibble to make me better.” You raise your shirt, stroking your exposed skin as it grows plumper and warmer to the touch. “Come feel me. Touch me.” 

Your voice is like a spell, drawing Yunho back in. Your body sings out to him, whispering how badly it longs for him. He wants you, though he shouldn’t. The searing pain in his neck dulls at the realization. It gets him off seeing that you need him this desperately. Not only for pleasure but to survive. 

Approaching the bed again, Yunho lowers his blood stained sleeve from his neck and caresses your body. The red liquid coating his fingers sticks to you like candy, leaving a trail of red along your belly. You lean into him, sliding a hand up his thigh to palm the growing bulge in his jeans. He lets out a satisfied moan, lightly tugging at your hair so that your head’s tilted back, sparkling eyes gazing up at him. 

“What are you?” he whispers with whatever speck of sanity he has remaining.

His bloody fingers find your mouth and you lazily lick them clean, savoring the taste. All the while your own hand’s undoing his zipper to stroke his length, your thumb circling the moist tip of his cock.

“What am I?” you giggle, “I’m yours, aren’t I?”

Releasing his middle finger from the suction of your soft lips, you push his sweater up to kiss your way across his lower stomach. Every kiss has his cock twitching in your grasp as his fingers tangle deeper into your hair, keeping you in place.

And then you find it. The perfect spot. You aren’t sure how you know but you just do. You suckle at his skin, letting your teeth gently pierce the surface until your tongue’s reintroduced to the taste of his blood. Yunho grits his teeth through pain that only makes the adrenaline rush that follows all the more pleasurable. 

“I’m still yours, aren’t I, Yunie?” you ask, his flesh still filling the space between your teeth.

Yunho pulls your head back and leans down to kiss you, the feeling of your lips against his worth the faint metallic taste that comes along with it.

“Of course you are, baby” he whispers, “You’ll always be mine and I’ll never let anything hurt you again. I promise.”

You lay back on the bed, pulling him on top of you, and wrap your legs around his waist. Yunho tears at your clothes, kissing you ravenously as if he’s the one with the undead hunger that must be fed. He’s ready to rip them off of you and take you right here with no regard at all for the best friend sleeping an inch away from you. But a loud banging at the downstairs door snaps him out of it, stirring Mingi from his sleep in the process. 

Mingi jolts upright in bed, on the verge of a heart attack, “Huh? What? What’s happening?” He glances over just in time to catch Yunho climbing off of you to zip his pants back up, the blood from your second bite already showing through his clothes.

You reach back to rub Mingi's leg, your view of him inverted, “Mingi, be calm.”

“Be calm?” he shouts, jumping to inspect the blood on your face, “Answer me now. What happened?”

The banging on the front door gets louder and Yunho throws a “Ssh” at Mingi, sneaking to the window to get a peek at the unexpected visitors. 

“Don’t shush me! Why’s there blood and why were you…” 

Yunho turns around slowly, eyes wide and hands trembling, “Mingi, shut up.”

“No, not until one of you tells me what’s going on and who the hell is that?” 

The banging continues, shaking the door so hard the hinges creak. Yunho sits back down on the bed, his brain firing off in a hundred directions at once. He wishes the knocking at the door were another minion of the undead—some corpse you accidentally drug back with you from the trenches of the morgue—but what awaits him this time, what awaits all of you, is something far worse. 

“It’s the fucking cops.”

[theresattrpgforthat]

Do you have any recommendations for TTRPGs where Body Horror is a central theme or mechanic? Preferably ones where themes like loss of agency or control over one's body are the focus. Thank you!!

THEME: Body Horror (Part 2!)

Hello there, I’m going to start by providing a link to the Body Horror recommendation post I put up back in 2022, before I move on to new recommendations!

Mutant Monster Machine Girls, by babblegumsam.

In MUTANT MONSTER MACHINE GIRLS, you play as a member of "The Girls", a group of queer misfits fighting against an oppressive anarcho-capitalist state ruled by The Corporation. 

Each of you fights against them because all your lives have been ruined by The Man Responsible, a dangerous and cruel servant of The Corporation. Because of his actions and the nature of your evolutions, you can no longer return to your previous lives and the people you love.

Your only solution? Exact your ultraviolent revenge on him and bring peace to the city by force!

The Mutant part of Mutant Monster Machine Girls is pretty heavy on the body horror, although I think the other character options certainly have possibilities. Babblegumsam has a fondness for weaving trauma and emotion into many of their works, so you’ll likely find a lot of feelings about exploration and loss in this one. The game system uses a modified PbtA system, which gives you tokens that you can spend to add modifiers to your roll. (This same mechanic can be found in Apocalypse Keys!)

Soul Burner, by World Champ Game Co.

Soul Burner is a standalone tabletop role-playing game of adventuring ashen corpses wandering a volcanic ghostland in service of the gods of fate, protecting the timeline from imminent disaster by manifesting fractured memories to shape the world to their will.

Compatible with Mork Borg and inspired by Necronautilus, this game acts as a bridge between worlds of violent dark fantasy and stoner metal science fantasy.

Soul Burner embeds body horror both into the characters you play and the creatures you come across, using MORK BORG rules and depicting your characters as merely remnants of who they used to be. You will find creatures overgrown by fungi, desperate cannibals, and lava-worshipping cultists in this book, evoking a grim and gritty fantasy setting. Your own characters are ever-changing, morphing and distorting whenever you gain a Reminder - pieces of who you are that give you mechanical advantages in the game.

FLËSHMØG, by Freak Flag Games.

FLËSHMØG: THE FLESH BEGINS TO EXERT ITS WILL UPON ITSELF

mäw of hëck: flëshmøg is a pen & paper body horror character creator. draw your hand, discover your body, and mutate your form.

This isn’t so much a game as it is a character-creation exercise. Using a deck of playing cards, you assemble cards as you randomly draw them to give yourself body parts, strengths, and adaptations according to the world around you. This might be an interesting exercise if you want to come up with a wretched home-brew character for MORK BORG, or if you want to design some kind of horror to pit against your players in another game.

Do Not Fear: In Death We Bloom, by Hella Big Claws.

Do Not Fear is a Forged In the Dark Tabletop Roleplaying game, about accepting the fleetingness of life; and using the strength that gives you in order to combat a growing stagnation.

Fight as a Hunter, a person who has been given a Gift of Bloom; a fungus like infection that allows for incredible strength and regenerative ability; in exchange for subsuming your flesh as you die.

Combat or save the Rusted; living creatures infected by a growing viral stagnation; marbling their bones and rusting their flesh; sculpting them into horrifyingly beautiful creations. Ascend the Tower; a large, multilayered structure which you call home. Interact with the factions and people within, as you set down roots.

As a fungus-infested person, the characters for Do Not Fear feel like prime candidates for body horror. Your characters have accepted that their fate will likely end in death, but only because they must if they are to save the world from a horrible plague. The game is built off of the same system as Blades in the Dark, but I think there’s been some tweaks here and there, because there are teasers to creatures and weapons that indicate hit-points and stats. The character abilities however, look really powerful and exciting. If you are a fan of Bloodborne, Hunter X Hunter, or Technoir, you might like this game.

Mutagenic Hive Swarm, by Atelier Hwei.

Waking up as a transdimensional insectoid reptilian has never been more fun!You are a stone age psychonaut apparently occupying the body of a Transdimensional Insectoid Reptile, a bug.

But who you were is less important than where you are: you must navigate the bloody, alien meatscape of the MUTAGENIC HIVE SWARM and find a way back to the Here & Now… before memories of who or what you fade completely.

Mutagenic Hive Swarm is all about playing bugs who are not really bugs - your characters have found themselves in the bodies of alien creatures, and will need to fight in order to hold onto their sense of self. Much of your character’s skills and effort will be directed towards trying to resist certain influences and changes, so I think the theme of loss of agency really shines through in this game. What you might really like is the d20 table of mutations that can threaten you every time your body changes. If you want a game where your character is more likely going to succumb to their changes than find a way out, you might want to check out Mutagenic Hive Swarm.

Other Games to Check Out

Wasted, by World Champ Game Co.

Bio-Drones & Cryo0Clones, by ChrisAir (for Mothership).

[bokettochild]

Ketto's Whumptober 2024 Prompt Master List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK - Kit & Violet (r by localicecreambiter)

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES - Warriors (anon)

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE - Legend & Sky (requested by notadragon)

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS - Legend &/or Warriors (anon)

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED - Legend (requested by tiredkiwilol)

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES - Time (FD) & Wind (requested by chuchujellybean)

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION - Hyrule (requested by starwolfie)

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD - Legend (also tiredkiwilol)

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE - Four (requested by mermain123)

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION - Wild

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY - Wild & Four

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA - Wind (requested by mermain123)

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS - Wild (requested by zips-quips)

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO - Wind (theoneeyedgoldenwolf)

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE - Sky (requested by icy-hot-0111)

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL - Twilight (r by toyouhellohowareyou)

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST - Warriors (requested by aeghina)

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR - Wind & Four (requested by tritailed-shenanigans)

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES - Hyrule (requested by mermain123)

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE - Time (requested by boingobeepis)

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING - Wild (requested by abbycrashing)

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY - Twilight & Warriors (mermain123 again :3)

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES - Legend (requested by mermain123)

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS - Twilight has a Violet Incident (requested by zips-quips)

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY - Wind & Legend & Warriors (because I want to!)

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

-

Feel free to send in requests for this year! Any relationships (barring romantic) are optional, and you can give as much or as little detail for what you'd like to see as you like! And if the prompt you wanted is already claimed, no worries! I AM capable of whumping multiple boys at once >:)

(NOTE: I can see your requests best in the post replies, asks WILL most likely get lost in the slew of my askbox!!!!!)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap - Four and Wind (tritailed-shenanigans)

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages - Wild (requested by zips-quips)

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

[lua-bunny]

Headcanons - Tate Langdon

imagine this as an AU where Tate just died, but didn't do the school massacre, because....too sensitive to imagine!

The reader is gender neutral!

Tate alive (90s)

-He carries one of your hair ties or a bracelet on his own wrist. He randomly stole from you one day and you never noticed. If you eventually notice, he will tell you that he likes to carry a part of you with him.

-He loves skipping school and would make you skip school to be with him.

-He would hate to go to the prom, but if it's important to you, he'll make an effort and go.

-He would probably take a while to tell you he loves you because he thinks it is initially a sign of weakness.

-He is intelligent, but not the kind of school intelligence, but rather specific, things he learned in life with his interests.

-He listens to Nirvana, a lot, and he'd be really happy if you liked Kurt or something.

-He probably fell in love for you very easily, before you even knew who he was.

-If you're one of those persons who likes rock music and has a piercing, a tatto or something like that, this guy will fall at your feet, easily.

-He hates being yelled at. It reminds him of Constance and his stepfather and he hates them. It doesn't stop him from screaming or anything, but he definitely cries afterwards.

-This boy is JEALOUS. If you were a popular person, like a cheerleader or a player, maybe a band singer, he would freak out over all the applause and attention you get.

-He's weird, so he'd probably dedicate some song with questionable lyrics, or some Russian movie about cannibalism and he'd hope you loved it as much as he did.

-He would never invite you to his house. He would also never tell his family that you are more then a friend. Not out of shame for you, but out of shame for his family.

-He would let you paint his nails black (just black) and he would help you paint your nails. He also agrees to do your makeup if you want to or let you do black smoky eyes (even if he pretends to hate it).

-He would probably write you cute notes and put them in your coat, your bag or even in your car

-If you were a fan of horror films, he would curate with you which film is the bloodiest. If you were scared, he would put some weaker scary movies on TV and hug you so you wouldn't be scared.

-He's terrible with feelings. He feels like everyone hates him, and he feels like he hates everyone. You'd basically be the only exception, but it means he'll never really let you go.

-He has a lot of sadness and repressed anger (taking into account that in this AU he never killed anyone) so he would be someone quite unstable, he would probably have borderline or bipolar depression, but he wouldn't go to any psychologist.

-He is really unique (especially in the 90s) so it would really be difficult to find someone like Tate.

-He is definitely a pathological liar. He will lie for small and useless things. that you will never discover and that in the end will become true in the story you remember.

Tate dead (Murder house season)

-He doesn't understand the concept of privacy. He doesn't care about looking at your cell phone, or your computer, saying personal things about you to your friends or parents and he doesn't understand you wanting to do things without him/without telling him. If you date him, he literally wants to be attached to your hip. As if you shared the same life.

-He HATES you having parties at Murder House or having your friends over. He will always complain about not getting attention and about how idiots all your friends are.

-Like I said, he's not good with feelings, so the only way he can express himself is by crying. He cries. A LOT. And he always expects you to comfort him (he would also use this to manipulate you if he did something bad)

-He likes to be validated. He's never received this from anyone so if you say nice things to Tate, he'll definitely love it (and probably cry)

-He likes listening more than talking. So sometimes he will sit on your bed, cross his legs and listen to you talking about anything for hours.

-He really likes contact. Be it sleeping hugging you, kissing you, or placing a hand on your thigh . He will always have one finger touching you.

-He will recommend you books, movies, songs and he expects you to like to them all and tell him about them.

-If he is angry about something or someone, he would like to be hugged like the little spoon and have his hair stroked while he complains about something that upset him, eventually, he would get angrier and knock over one of your decorations, or he would punch something, but he would always cry about it (Tate is a good cry baby)

-He would like to hide in places you couldn't predict to watch you. He likes to do this while you sleep, or while you're in the bathtub, just to make sure you're alive and well.

-He hates being trapped in that house so he would never want you to be trapped. He would like you to stay in the house because you want to and not because the supernatural trapped you there.

-He would hate the fact that you have to go to school/college/work because it means he can't check up on you and that you could be in danger.

-He's a bit obsessed with hair. He would love to touch your hair and he would love for you to touch his too.

-He would make very specific and different compliments, never obvious things. "I like the shape of your face", "the smell of your hair is good", "I like your accent", all those things.

-If you smoke, drink or something like that, he will get angry, because that means you can die outside the house and leave him, or die inside the house and get angry with him.

-He protects you from the other ghosts in the house and even from his own mother (who keeps invading your home).

-He would find a thousand things to do with you on Halloween, since it's the only day he can leave Murder House. He would like to do things that make you seem like a normal couple, for you.

-Since he can't be your boyfriend in public, he would like some matching jewelry, some tatto, anything to show that you were his and vice versa.

-He usually feels what you are feeling. If you are angry with someone, he is too, if you are sad with someone, he is too, and so on.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I know you're more of a Killer person but I wanted to share some thoughts on Horror since I've been going back abit for his comic and lore I've never played the game though.

I feel like Horror has one main fanon interpretation and that he's a big guy who's soft for his other teammates, makes excellent food always eating something or constantly thinking of just food who gardens and cooks constantly. Also, he wields a giant axe but can't use magic anymore and really only cares for his Papyrus. Oh and he's a cannibal who eats humans disregarding the fact that humans ans monsters are different species. Oh also problems saying sentences or a single word so barely talks and he has problems with his memory where he doesn't properly make new memories.

Horror is so much more then that first of all that guy isn't soft, I'm unsure if he can even cook, doesn't seem like someone who would garden but more likely hunt or just go to a store. He's rude, mean, and a sadist. He won't directly hurt you when Papyrus is close by and as long as he is entertained doesn't have much of an urge to hurt you either. He's super paranoid and distrusting believing anyone can simply betray him even those closest. He's not even big its mentioned that he is still small and is only seen tall by the human child. He's probably the most judgemental of the group and manges to have the worst trust issues out of all of them. You already know he hasn't eaten in what 7 years, he's willing to give up food to others if he thinks they need it more even if it would be harder on him and Papyrus he has a huge sense of community with Snowdin in which people respect him but are also afraid of him. He seems to isolate himself from the rest of them not exactly physically but its obvious he keeps his distance emotionally and most of the physically away from them despite being the glue that holds them together. He was only shown once with an axe and it wasn't comically huge it says he prefers a heavy thigh bone and it's been shown he still has access to his magic and can use it even during present time. He wouldn't even physically touch Aliza he made a whole paragraph to stop him from eating anything alive. Also he yaps a lot he's almost constantly talking throughout the comic don't know about the game but I've seen a bit and it doesn't seem like his chattiness is lessened. Also despite what many think he has retrograde amnesia not antegrade amnesia. Meaning his memories of before the injury are blured or gone its mentioned that many of the things in Frisk run is forgotten he doesn't have any problems making new memories or any speech impediment.

Sorry for the rant but you're probably my favorite person to just share my thoughts with

~Musical Anon

You don’t have to apologize for ranting in my inbox. I may be the Killer and Color guy, but I enjoy when people rant to me about other characters and aus too. It’s nice to hear from everyone.

The idea that the yapper in the Murder Time Trio all along was actually Horror instead of Killer is so silly though.

And given that he is only seen as tall from the human child’s POV, and Killer was drawn as smaller than his Chara even though he doesn’t have a confirmed canon height, does this potentially mean that Killer could be smaller than Horror if only by a few inches?

[calmcoldevening]

Hellow! I just comeback to tumblr after a long time away from this magic space and i wish (and request if is possible 👉🏻👈🏻) if you can write a one shot where the reader was adopted after Charlie finished a family, she was a baby then and grow up as a Hewitt basically so Thomas is her “step brother” but when they grow and they start doing the “family business 🔪 “ they protect each other, he protects her physically and she protects him emotionally also she finish some girls who make fun of Thomas, basically they found that both have feelings for each other…hope i didn’t ask a mess 🥺 by the way, i love your content 🖤

Omg, thank you so much, really ♡⁠ And I like your idea, so I hope you will like it))

Thomas Hewitt x reader

Tw: mention on murders, cannibalism, a little hurt/comfort, reader and Thomas are not the real siblings, jealousy

Almost no one remembers how you got into this family anymore. At one point, Hoyt just carried you in his arms, frowning at Luda. The woman carefully picked you up in her arms, your big curious eyes looked around the room and the people present with interest. Surprisingly, you weren't scared, even though you didn't understand where you were. People were talking loudly, but you didn't understand any of it.

But it only took a couple of minutes, and a strange man appeared in your field of vision. Kid. He was a boy of about five with long black hair, and his face was covered in bandages in some places. The woman said something to him, and the boy awkwardly approached you, looking at your little body with curiosity and some fear. You smiled almost reflexively and held out your hands to him. The woman grinned and gently laid you down in the boy's arms. You curled up blissfully on his chest, closing your eyes and relaxing. The boy started rocking you. It was so nice and warm. You fell asleep almost immediately.

Thomas. That was the boy's name. Thomas Hewitt, your older brother Tommy. He has always been kind and gentle towards you. Of course, your whole family was good, even if it was peculiar, but still Tommy seemed the most dear to you. It has always been so.

The boy was constantly protecting you. At home or in the outside, it doesn't matter, Thomas always tried to be with you, like your personal guardian angel.

As the years passed, Thomas was already in school. You were about four years old when you started noticing something was wrong. Tommy came home from school, and his body was covered with a lot of bruises, dried blood was visible on the bandages. It happened a lot. But when you tried to ask Thomas about it, he was silent, turning away from you.

Your childish mind was still unable to make up a whole picture of such situations.

So the only thing that came to your mind was to cheer Tommy up. He was sitting on the bed when you entered the room. Awkwardly walking with your little legs, you came closer to him, smiling. Without thinking twice, you climbed onto the bed next to him. Taking one of his hands, you began to glue small patches on his wounds.

"It hurts, brother?" you ask softly, looking up at Thomas. The guy can't help but smile. He gently runs his free hand through your hair, and shakes his head negatively. You giggle contentedly and put your arms around his neck, climbing into the boy's lap. Thomas hugs you back tenderly, and in those warm hugs you feel like your brother is protecting you from the whole world.

Already in the middle of school, Thomas started working with Charlie at the slaughterhouse, but you just stayed at home after graduation. By nature, you were a child who was much weaker than Thomas, even though you were very smart and cunning. Besides, Luda didn't want you to see all these horrors of murder from such an early age. You didn't resist her views.

After all, after school you worked at one of the grocery stores in the city. Even if they didn't pay that much because of your age and the fact that it was your unofficial job, it was already something. Therefore, every day you brought home either money or food immediately, which Luda was immensely happy about. Unlike Tommy, you grew up to be quite an active and curious child, you were often the first to take the initiative in various matters. Therefore, at the age of ten you were quite good at helping People around the house, and at fifteen you were already fully cooking. You didn't particularly like the fact that Luda spends almost all her time doing household chores, so you tried to give her as much rest as possible. She was very happy to have such a child.

As the years passed, the city emptied as time passed. The closure of the slaughterhouse has greatly affected the peaceful course of life in the city. After a while, only your Hewitt family remained in the city. It's not that you love other people, it's just that you were sorry that the usual way of life was changing. But as long as you're with your family, you don't care about other people.

Due to the fact that there was not much food in the city, and it was not possible to travel outside it often, gradually you did not have enough food. You just accepted it, and you didn't ask any questions.

Until one day Charlie gave some strange speech.

You could feel the tension in the air when you all gathered at the table. It was a little awkward. The room was dark, with only a small chandelier above the table being the only source of pale yellow light. As usual, you folded your hands on your chest in prayer before eating, when Charlie said a prayer to God. No, not Charlie, Hoyt. Your eyes were darting around the room. You saw the tense shoulders of the Woman and the way her forehead wrinkled because of the eyebrows drawn together. Hoyt wasn't as tense, and yet there was some excitement in his voice. Uncle Monty was no different from his usual self, he just kept quiet.

Eating people. It was.. strange. Wrong. How could Hoyt say that in order to survive, you have to eat people? And this strange soup with rather tough meat.

You looked at Tommy. He was sitting next to you, his huge figure only added some kind of horror to the atmosphere of the room. And yet, under the table, he took your little hand in his big palm, squeezing it in comfort. You understood that it was necessary. If Tommy said it was necessary, then you will obey. You nodded curtly and started eating.

Gradually you got used to the new way of life. You spent whole days helping People around the house or at her gas station store, and in the evening you spent time with Tommy. You are used to strange strangers appearing in your house several times a week, and new meat appears on the table that evening. You no longer paid attention to the screams or the blood, you lived as usual. The only thing you didn't like was that Tommy was now more tired and exhausted by the end of the day. After working with meat for a long time, he would come to your room, you would sit on the bed. He would climb onto your bed and put his head on your hips, seeking comfort. You began to gently stroke his tangled black hair. He closed his eyes with a smile. Your hands gently find the clasp of the mask on the back of his head. Thomas reflexively tenses up at first, but immediately lets you take off the mask. He looks up at you and you smile, caressing his cheeks with your hands. Every time such a sight made a pleasant warm feeling appear in your chest, you wanted to see this smile more often. After a long hug, you fell asleep on the same bed, cuddling up to each other.

Such a life has become commonplace. And although you tried to be indifferent to all the victims who come to this house, in the end, they will all end up being your dinner, you couldn't ignore how these pathetic bastards treated Tommy. Especially those screaming and crying girls.

Thomas was sharpening a knife in his basement when you went down there and saw a girl tied to a table. Her makeup was smeared, and her face was red and swollen from crying and screaming. She was obviously pretty tired already. And yet, the girl continued to try to pull out, shouting some obscenities. She probably already realizes that she is doomed. And yet, her body is still filled with animal fear. You walk down the stairs, your arms folded across your chest. Thomas is not paying attention to you, he is completely focused on his work. And from there he stands over the bound girl. His palm slowly slides over her trembling stomach, breasts, and finally stops on her face, caressing her cheeks. Your heart strangely, almost painfully contracts at the sight of this scene. The girl wriggles and cries, calling Thomas a freak and a brainless animal. You can't see his face, but you can feel him frowning. In an instant, he raises his hand with a cleaver over the girl and forcefully drives it into the girl's body, cutting her fragile neck with an unpleasant crunch. She gurgles, choking on her own blood. You slowly approach Thomas, hugging him from behind. Your hands are clutching the fabric of his shirt under his apron.

"She's lying, Tommy. She's just stupid. You are not an animal, you are the most wonderful man in the world," you whisper and feel him relax under your embrace. He throws the cleaver on the floor. The man turns to face you and wraps you in a tight hug, burying his nose in your hair. He's always been soothed by your scent.

You were really annoyed by these rude victims of the girl. That's why you often began to deal with them yourself. Something inside you rejoiced when you silenced their vile mouth.

You were in the kitchen, as usual, making an apple pie. Humming something to yourself, you moved around the kitchen in a relaxed way, enjoying the cooking process. Suddenly, you heard the faint crackle of the stairs leading to the basement. The third step from below was flimsy and always creaked. But under Tommy's weight, it was a more distinct sound. Now the sound was almost inaudible, as if someone was sneaking around, trying not to attract attention. When you turned around, you saw a fragile girl covered in blood. Her right hand looked like a bloody mess, so she held it with her good hand. Was it Tommy's toy? A strange anger has boiled up inside you. You grabbed the knife you were using to cut apples. It was a sharp knife that Hoyt sharpened for you not so long ago. Slowly approaching the girl from behind, you abruptly wrapped your arms around her, exposing the blade with the tip to her stomach. The girl was filled with an almost animal panic and she reflexively rushed forward, trying to escape from your grip. She made it worse for herself. Her flesh was instantly pierced by a sharp blade. You felt her body convulsing, and cherry blood instantly stained your hands. The knife went into her stomach almost to the hilt when she went limp in your hands. Hoyt would probably scold you for spoiling the meat right now. But you don't care. It felt so light and pleasant when you finished off this girl who called Thomas names not so long ago when he dealt with her friends. No one dared to call your boy that, absolutely no one.

But it wasn't any easier for Thomas.

He saw all those sidelong glances from the victims, all those lascivious smiles in your direction. It annoyed him so much. Thomas killed such victims with particular cruelty. You were his gentle and innocent flower, who had been kind to him since childhood. Thomas cherished you. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something happened to you. Your soft hair, sweet smell and sweet smile. All of this made his heart flutter. But in those moments when the escaped victims tried to take you with them, his chest was filled with a feeling of anger and hatred. No one will dare to take away his flower, his ray of light in this dark life.

But there was something strange about it, something he couldn't explain. When the victims tried to flirt with you, unaware of the danger, or when they touched you unobtrusively, his blood boiled. There was something else besides the desire to protect. Mine. Mine. MINE. The voice kept repeating in his head when some guy at the gas station tried to hug you. That same night, he cut off his limbs. There was something else besides his brother's affection. It wasn't right, was it? But all your smiles, touches, and tenderness made Thomas want you for himself alone. He wanted to hold you close and show you in every way that he loves you. He loves me very much. Will you understand him? Or do you only see him as a brother? Thomas knows, he clearly remembers the day when Charlie brought your baby to this house. Even then, Thomas swore with his heart that he would protect and take care of you. You're not his blood sister, so maybe...? Will you love such a freak? After all, all the victims talked about him that way. A freak, an animal, a monster. Do you see him differently? He doesn't want to scare you or disgust you, no. He wants to love you. He wants you for himself.

It was a surprisingly rainy day. You were sitting on the porch, hugging your knees. The rain was pounding on the roof of the house, and there was a strong smell of humidity and wet dust in the air. There wasn't a soul around. There haven't been any new victims in the last few days, so you could definitely rest. Luda, along with Hoyt and Monty, went to a nearby town to check on someone from relatives, so you and Thomas were alone. Quiet and peaceful.

A man was watching you through the open front door. Your gentle image warmed his heart in a pleasant way. Maybe...?

You heard heavy footsteps approaching, and your body almost reflexively relaxed. A warm blanket was placed on your shoulders, and Thomas himself sat on the porch next to you. Even sitting down, he was much taller than you. Thomas stared ahead for a long time, watching the chaotic raindrops. His dark hair was even more curly from the humidity. Finally, he turned to face you, looking down at you. His blue eyes bored into your face for a long time. Finally, he took your hands in his, squeezing them gently. His rough thumbs massaged your hand skin in gentle circles, he frowned a little, obviously thinking about something.

Then he dropped one of your hands. The man pointed at himself. Then he put his hand to his lips, kissing her, and brought his hand to his heart. Then he pointed his finger at you.

I. Love. You.

Your cheeks instantly flushed when you looked down. Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest, echoing in your ears. Did he have the same feelings for you? Or did you get it all wrong? But you are a family..

"I love you too, big brother," you say in the most innocent way, looking at the wet wooden boards of the porch.

Thomas frowns and grabs your face with his free hand, forcing you to look at him. You look up, meeting his eyes. The man's blue eyes are filled with longing and a strange warmth. He shooks his head.

You feel overwhelmed by emotions. How have you always been able to communicate so clearly, even without words? Some kind of pleasant tender feeling blossoms in your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and burying your nose in his shoulder. The smell of metal and dust mixed with the sweet natural scent of his body. The smell that always calmed you down. Thomas hugs you back, stroking your back with his big hand.

A little later, you pull away. You have a strange strong desire, his lips look full and beautiful to you. Leaning forward, you gently kiss him through the mask, he responds. Your kiss is wet and clumsy, but filled to the brim with feelings. Thomas squeezes you tightly in his arms, wanting to shut you off from the rest of the world. You are his, his and only his. You may not be his sibling, but you are his family.

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER TWENTY: PUMPKIN SOUP

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, Daddy kink, cannibalism mentions, murder mentions

Read after the cut

---

For two days you persist in your begging for a hospital stay, seizing feebly at the improbable chance of liberty through that once feared institution.

You’ve read of women escaping their keepers through a word in the ear of some sympathetic doctor or neighbouring patient, fantasising at length that you might mimic such simple ingenuity.

The obsidian eyes of cameras in their probing fleets, your blood family surging forth to embrace you, weeping in regret at their heartless desertion— in want of it you indulge in an even greater exaggeration of illness to the extremes of near losing your voice to the performance.

Yet for all that you moan and cough and writhe in the clutches of muscle cramps and drenching fever Hannibal rejects your pleas with minimal reply.

He works shifts at the office around your care, bathing you and changing sodden bedsheets twice daily by duteous hand.

You’re fed medicine and light stews when you’re too frail to take the spoon yourself, and scarcely hungry enough to swallow, have throbbing joints chafed between his palms at your slightest complaint of suffering.

All your favourite music and filmography is set up on a timer so that you need not leave the bed at the end of each recording; like a slovenly youth you loll, watching Hammer Horror pictures back-to-back, and think your captor’s house far more lush than even those lurid sets.

When you waver between frigid and overheated your jailer adapts the room to either need, exchanging one thickness of blanket for another, training a fan upon you until you cannot help but squirm luxuriously in the breeze.

It’s on the third day, held through an attack of coughing in Hannibal’s arms, that you disintegrate and softly weep with the shame of your gratitude towards him.

He lifts your chin up in his palm, his eyes moist with empathy.

“Dear one,” he says. “What is it? Are you in pain?”

“I just don’t understand,” you say, rubbing a tear from the stinging corner of your eye. “How can you be what you are and still be so kind to me?”

Hannibal smiles, all fatherly goodwill, unruffled by the gauche enquiry.

“I am many men, and one. You knew this from the moment you sat before me in my office, kicking your foot in dislike of what you saw there. With you I’ve always been open with that aspect of myself. Some among us in society define themselves primarily by the sport they favour; I, however, embrace my multitudes, as should you, Little One.”

He strides across to your window, letting in a rope of umber light like the hair of a tower-bound princess.

“Yeah,” you say. “I get that. We’re different people with everybody. That’s how we survive: by being who they want so that they’ll like us. But what I mean is— this is real. Not just a costume, or a trick. You’re good to me because you’re choosing to be. But why do you want to do all this for me when I’m not like you?”

"I have faith that you'll come around,” says Hannibal, easily. “You don't wholly detest this life as you did in the beginning. Even what you consider the most unsavoury aspects of it will soon appeal to you, if only for the briefest moment."

You scent the inference behind his words and shake your head.

"I don't want to eat Uncle Lee. Even if I was like you, Daddy, I really don’t think I could.”

Hannibal’s visage, previously neutral, lightens with the solemn interest you recognise from therapy.

“Why is that?" he asks. “What would prevent you if you shared my tastes?”

“It’d feel... dirty."

You tense up, anticipating an airy dismissal, and are surprised when Hannibal appears to digest the answer quite as seriously as any debate.

“You equate the concept of eating flesh with sex,” he says. “A fellatio of sorts.”

Recouping from a startled coughing fit, you rasp, “I mean, not always, or that’d be super weird, but in this case— maybe? But even if I saw it as just degrading him the way he did to me, eating him would make me sick. Leland’s basically diseased."

Hannibal’s brows arch.

"If he were then I wouldn't suggest such a feast."

With a weak groan you shift to face the wall.

"You know what I mean. I just don't want to eat someone so disgusting. I mean, I don't want to eat anyone."

“Or anything, for that matter,” Hannibal comments; the quickness of his answer puts you in mind of Will.

“This isn't about that.”

"Yet it isn't entirely divorced from your illness, either."

You don’t reply, wishing he’d cut you free of the conversation and leave you to the consoling darkness of your chosen music to softly decay. He will never convince you to be what he is; you’ll only ever pretend until you’re loose of this house, or under the earth. You were not built to eat.

“What if someone else were to consume Leland Frost?" asks Hannibal suddenly.

Rolling onto your back again you find that he is the one now turned away, allowing you an enigmatic angle of cheek, the dash of his jawline, a noble in stasis.

“You'd do that for me?" you ask. “You’d eat Leland Frost?”

“Without question. It would be a token of my love."

A bashfulness comes over you, your heart stuttering in blighted rejoice that you, of all women, he would not have die in a doll.

Alana he would kill, you feel, though only through some necessity to silence or remove some object in her; Hannibal enjoys her too much to otherwise let her go, as possessive of his human toys as of the treasure box of life he has built about him.

You, the daughter-pet of the man that is his lover in all but the physical, are too vital to discard. This you have over Alana, the iron guard that is to be the favoured concubine of kings.

"I know I'm not the one you love,” you mutter, keen to pretend you hadn't heard Hannibal's wistful ruminations on the matter. “Will is.”

Hannibal sits down at your bedside, making the chair rather more elegant for his arrangement within it. You cannot help but glance at his crossed legs, feeling by memory the weight resting between them.

“I'm capable of ardour for more than one being simultaneously,” says Hannibal. “Would I have invited you into my home if I were not?"

Your mouth opens, then seals again without comment.

Once, you would have stridently declared you’d rather be detested by a cannibal than held in any regard, but being that such a claim is no longer honest you can only look at the ceiling and will yourself away from that coward’s longing to be loved.

"Do you still think that you’re unworthy?” asks Hannibal, with a certain sadness. “I selected you above others because upon reading your files and the many unhappy confessions made in private sectors of your online existence I saw your resilient heart, your keen perception of unspoken truths, and a compassion for those you hold close, few though they were, at that time.

“I saw, too, a proximity to darkness that bore a forbidden allure to you, that which you resisted through an oppressed certainty that you should.

“Your passion for it, your torment in the stranglehold of conformity— you were enamoured with your own illness and its extremes: the minimum you could consume, the lengths of time you could abstain from sustenance. The symptoms, even the most repugnant of them delighted you in the provision of security they brought to an unstable universe. That craving for discipline and your adherence to it I admired.”

Hannibal pauses, watching you take in his confession with a continuing want of acceptance.

“Ultimately you recoil from my habits as you do from all eating,” he says. “In you, the consumption of human flesh is made equal to that of all animals.”

With a jolt you stare at him, wondering if he is aware that you've come to so similar a realisation about him.

"I’ll never be a cannibal,” you say. “You get that, right? I don’t want to disappoint you, Daddy, but I would never eat a human being. Not by choice."

Your captor leans into your cheek, his breath stirring a tremble of horrid pleasure down your neck almost to your breast like the venom of an asp.

"Precisely,” he murmurs. “You’ll submit in the knowledge that you must."

The quilt shifts as his arm slides beneath it with a gentle cunning. You fasten your fevered thighs against him, aware that you have not bathed since the previous night and are ripe from your bedbound decay.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “I’m sick and dirty.”

“Then when I’m finished I’ll wash you and change the sheets,” says Hannibal, looking warmly down at you under lowered lids. “You’re taut from lack of release. I will unwind you from that knot; this, too, is care for you.”

His fingers form the simulacrum of a key, your entrance the lock he means to open for his amusement. You release a shivering gasp as he pushes into you, putrescent with the guilt that this deathmonger finds no resistance in the soaking welcome of you.

He touches you where the moonlight of forbidden nerve song waxes into silver life, and he does not release you until the phantasmagoric wilds of it reform at some mad height.

Twice he walks you there on well-trained fingertips, his face in the cave of your shoulder and neck, kissing the raised presence of a vein.

You feel his temptation to bite the flesh from that junction, and there is something erotic in his restraint, the tension in him as his breath smokes your throat. His teeth raise grooves there, flirting with the meat beneath your skin, his warm tongue taking the measure of your flavour.

You catch at him, push at him, feeble and defenceless. How kindly he absorbs this little violence, pressing your fists to his pursed mouth to soften them with his forgiveness.

He will not punish you for this, allows you this instinct to resist the hunter’s dominance. That he does not fuck you with his phallus is another proof of his strength; that form of sex he might have when you’re well, and a more even match against him.

His fingers in you curl like the neck of the swan over Leda, and you hear your tears fall upon the quilt, an errant rainfall.

“So beautiful,” says Hannibal, as you croak in hopeless admission of pleasure. “It’s a pity you’re unwell. Your voice is a joy to listen to at times like this.”

You think he’d like your death screams as much, the keen blackness of his eyes glistening with the satiation of the knife. He would study you, tanned head aside, considering how he might depict your agonies in graphite to commemorate their aesthetic peak.

What painting would serve as the base of this image? The Death of Marat? Saturn Eating His Son? You’re not educated enough to anticipate where so cruelly intellectual a mind would take root for inspiration. Hannibal has never conducted a human experiment quite like the one in which you are subject, this from the subtleties of his behaviour you feel, the satisfaction he takes from a new evil.

Killing and eating those that stain his world with imperfection is no sexual act to Hannibal as it is for others of his monstrous guild, but it may become sensual in recollection of what you once were to him. Should he slaughter you he’d stroke himself afterwards into religious ecstasies, a eulogy to all the hours emptied within you.

Even as he plays the scales of your bleak rapture in the present you are sure he pictures it, the murder that has not been. His hand, in thought, around your heart, letting it beat against his wrist like the lapping tongue of a wolfess dying in the snow.

You are beautiful to him in two realms: the real and parallel, the living and the dead. He would channel his love through your body, display you like the tortured beauty of some vanquished clan, whatever wound he’d killed you by presented like a brooch, some bright red gem.

After your death, what would become of you then?

Young people of the same morbid leanings you’d once indulged in would admire the images of the crime scene as they might some rare exhibition, unaware that the man that had posed you with such elaborate direction had fucked you with that same drive.

Yet perhaps they would learn of it, your organs examined for such sadistic tampering, and would pity you for your miserable life.

If only you were not so afraid to die: you must be his breathing art for all your days, and that may well be worse.

Your expression must glaze with this dark musing, for Hannibal takes back his arm from the quilt and slips noiselessly into the bathroom to wash his hands of your sour delight.

Later, when you’re washed under crisp plum and ebony sheets he comes to you once more with a glass of water and a pill in his hand.

“What’s that?” you ask, straightening against the mountainous stack of pillows. “I already had ibuprofen.”

“It’s a sleeping aid,” says Hannibal. “You were coughing through the night. This will assure you rest undisturbed.”

Miserably you contemplate the calories in the little capsule before you take it, hoping it will at least grant a dreamless sleep.

In this you are disappointed; your mind walks a road of memory, revisiting a September afternoon you’d watched Leland Frost work on your father’s car, his muscled body rolling under his shirt like an orca beneath a wave.

In the dream he whistles at a passing woman, a dimple creasing his grin.

“Ah, I need a girl like you, me.”

His blond head snaps up to look at you as you shrink back towards the house.

“No, no, cher. Stay. There somebody been asking about me?”

You scuff a white sneaker against the sidewalk, dirtying the sole.

“No, Uncle Lee.”

Leland wipes his hands on stained blue jeans and rises into a crouch, his smile like the coil of an eel in rivers deep.

“Aw, come on,” he says, cajoling. “I seen her runnin’ after you the other day. That lil, lil girl that live at the end of the street.”

“She’s just in my class, that’s all,” you insist. “She’s just a friend.”

Leland spits a brown liquid under the car and laughs.

“You got no friends but me. That girl, Hannah. She don’t like you. Still she come after you. I wanna know what she wanted.”

You look at your shoes, counting the eyelets. Leland’s eyes brand your bowed temple with their questioning.

“She asked about you,” you mumble. “And I didn’t say anything.”

“That’s good,” says Lee. “But you better tell me what she asked.”

“If I knew you were a bad man. And I said I don’t know what she’s talking about, just like you said.”

Leland winks, a conspiratorial gesture.

“That’s my girl.”

You’ve had worse dreams, yet you spring from this one as though from the top stair of hell, wishing with a sickened wrench of innards that Hannibal was in the room to calm you from its frightful squall.

Angered by your own wallowing terror, you get out of bed and force yourself to stand in front of the mirror in penance. You examine your body from all perspectives, fancying you see it narrowed by your lack of appetite while simultaneously convinced that it hasn’t changed at all.

Were that you were unwell always: you’d waste to the littleness of a Frozen Charlotte, a frail perfect thing, not the child darling lumped from clay in a killer’s hands. Neither Will nor Hannibal quite understand your fervent tenacity to achieve the quality of air, nor will either help you to achieve it.

There are limits to their madness, immune as they are to any folie à deux but their own. You are a soldier of one in your aim, ground down to lose faith in the war.

In a malaise you attempt a slow lap of the room, made pathetic by your coughing and quivering progress from one end of it to the next.

Hannibal’s car sends a lasso of auburn leaves up from the wet road as he rides in under your window; hampered by time, you return to the mirror to body check again, pulling up your nightdress in the hope your stomach has by the devil’s miracle become concave, your ribs closed in like praying hands.

Disappointed, you get back into bed and arrange yourself in a believable pose of just waking for Hannibal to find.

“How did you sleep, Little One?” he asks, setting a bowl of pumpkin soup down on a tray before you.

“Not too well,” you admit. “I had a dream about Uncle Lee again. Well, a memory, I guess.”

“You’ve remembered something new,” says Hannibal. “What have you retrieved from the galleries of time?”

It relieves you that he's so attune to your need to confess, seated at your bedside with such swiftness it is as if he never left.

“There really were other girls,” you say. “I know that for sure, now. There was this one girl, Hannah— I guess she wanted my help, and I told her to go away and that I didn’t know anything. I was scared, but still. It was wrong of me to do that to her when she needed a friend.”

“You were a child,” says Hannibal, soberly. “I’ll remind you as many times as is required of me. Leland may have hurt you had you struck out against him.”

You bow your head in rejection of his comfort.

“There were other girls that asked me for help when I got older, and I never said a word. I don’t deserve forgiveness for that, and honestly, I don’t want it, either. That wouldn’t help anybody. I just wish... well, it’s stupid, but I wish I could turn back time and do it all again.”

“The past cannot be reversed, as tempted as one might be to take it upon oneself to calculate some process of correcting one’s mistakes. You are not alone in that desire, however. I, too, have considered how it might be done. Alas, it is an impossible fantasy. There’s no benefit to ruminating on such things.”

You consider Hannibal in a kind of awe. What could such a being regret if not the act of murder?

A telephone knells in the gut of the house.

“Drink your soup,” says Hannibal, getting to his feet. “I hope to see at least half of it absent on my return.”

Resisting the compulsion to roll your eyes at him you say, with a falsely placid air, “Okay, Daddy. Sure thing.”

You make reluctant scrapes with your spoon about the bowl, swilling each mouthful about your teeth ten times before you swallow.

In five minutes Hannibal comes back to you with the telephone in his hand. There is animation to his face you’ve noticed absent since his companion left to sink himself into the case again.

“It’s Will,” says Hannibal, the expected answer. “He wants to talk to you.”

“He does?” you say, wrinkling your nose. “Wow. He’s a changed man.”

You take the receiver, waiting until Hannibal leaves to return your soup tray to the kitchen before you speak into it.

“Hi, Daddy,” you say.

It’s loathsome how eagerly the words spill from your lips, a breathless young girl’s gladness to hear from the object of a summer pash.

“Hey,” says Will. “How are you feeling? Hannibal told me you were laid up.”

“Yep. Chest infection. Listen to me.”

You cough to demonstrate, and Will laughs gently.

“That’s rough. Has Dr Lecter been taking good care of you?”

“Yeah. Sure. Just like he always does. When are you coming home? It’s Halloween in two days. It’ll be weird without you. It’s my favourite holiday.”

Will chuckles again.

“I’ll bet it is. I’ll try to get away. Jack’s got me pretty tied up, but I’ll do my best.”

You imagine Will in the mystery of his house, his free hand tousling the miscellaneous heads of many dogs. That home would smell of hair, and old books, of Will, the hermit fisherman; its scent is in your throat as if you were there, upon his lap again.

Certainly you seem able to do nothing else, your form enraptured with what once merely hurt.

“Have you missed me, Will?” you ask, coyly, and just as coyly he answers.

“Some of you.”

“Hey!” you protest, wriggling under your quilt.

The night Will had covered your mouth as he fucked his irritation up into you is like a sunrise of the womb, a burning, desirous giant. It is horrible what these men do, but like the snarling ache of starving you must love it against all that you know to be true and good.

“Just kidding,” says Will, a grin in his voice. “I do miss you. But there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Something serious.”

The solemn shift in Will’s voice nips the smirk from your lips at once.

“What is it?” you ask. “What do you mean?”

“I got an MRI the other day. Figured it was time to get to the bottom of those seizures I’ve been having. Alana hooked me up; I guess somebody owed her a favour. Turns out I have encephalitis. I’ve been in the hospital for a couple of days. Probably going to be on medication for a while now.”

The hand gripping the receiver seems to run with fire over blood.

“Oh, God,” you say, breathless with nerves. “Is everything okay? Are you?”

“Okay isn’t the word I’d use,” says Will grimly. “You knew about this already, One. I want to know how.”

Panic drills you through with such adrenaline that you feel as though you’re above the bed rather than within it. If you expose the truth you’ll be punished severely, perhaps even lethally should it drive the two men apart.

You’d made a mistake in taunting Will over their friendship; you should have left well alone, endured their union in unstirring quiet as you’d done under Leland Frost.

“Um,” you mumble. “I know a lot of stuff before it happens. I just feel like it’s true, or guess, like you said. Or I dream about it.”

“This wasn’t out of any dream. The details were too specific. You said something about the food. Somebody told you what was going on, and what was triggering my encephalitis, because they were purposefully making it worse.”

Will pauses, and when he speaks again his tone is clipped, all controlled rage.

“It was Hannibal, and you covered for him. Not very well, but you did.”

“I didn’t know he was doing it on purpose!” you squeak. “He seemed worried about you, Will, I thought—”

“Don’t say anything else. Just listen to me.”

You chew at a loose whisker of skin on your lip, the same you’ve gnawed to the blood beneath a thousand times in conflict.

“I’m going to come home in a couple of days,” says Will. “I’m going to talk to Hannibal and you’re going to stay out of it, just like I asked you to. This is between me and him. Not you. Please don’t disrespect me by getting in the way.”

“He’ll be so mad at me,” you croak. “Oh, God. Please don’t say anything to him, Will. Just leave it. What if I’ve ruined everything?”

There is a protracted silence into which you both breathe like the winds at the end of the world.

“If anything’s ruined just know that it isn’t you that’s to blame,” says Will, at last. “Goodbye, Little One. I’ll see you soon.”

The line goes dead, leaving the phone a chill corpse in your hand.

[brainworms-all-night-long]

If you were to make Mangey and Sails into Sanses who would they be

Ok so, originally, I was going for something fancier, cuz my extremely vague memory of either Oceantale or Piratetale said sans and papyrus have absolutely banger designs, but then I stumbled upon this thing when searching for it and well.

What can I say, he looks pretty chill!! And Sails' overall vibe fits it, I thinks (I mean come on. Undersail. UnderSAILS isn't that just perfect. That's literally perfect.) Didn't draw his mechanical hand cuz I just didn't want to tbh

Mangey though, he very much Is covered ear to tails with blood that's mostly not his!! That is to say blood, gore and cannibalism tw (talk abt a tonal whiplash lmao)

So, Horrortale by @/sour-apple-studios. A post neutral timeline in Undertale leaves the underground without its king and so the head of the royal guards takes the crown in hopes of giving some lost order to the people, but uh ohs!! (I belive) the Core malfunctions (or blows up I dedass just forgor) and the monsters are left without energy or means to create food.

Which means they either have to starve or... eat each other, in order to survive.

-

Oooor thats the most bare bones (hah) of it that I can rember without rereading some parts, it has been a few years since my UT autism...

So yea, Mangey is Horror!Sans (sort of)

I was meaning to do that silly little sails thing first as a warmup and than create Mangey cuz I had a vague idea of what kinda creature I want him to be, but when does art do what you tell it to. mf sprung to life and now he looks like, that.

Some tiny design notes, for which I kept the lineart around, since I feel like the color washed out some finer details.

He is indeed skin and bone and a lot, and I mean a lot of fluff to hide that, cuz I though it would be a cul contrast. And he's not wearing and eyepatch, it's just that he also got a few slashes with a spear to the face(for different reasons that Horror did.) As such he's missing both his right eye and left ear, his food can get a little... feisty. The axe is something he made himself as retaliation and yes, it has a serated edge on both sides. And bandages cuz I didn't feel like drawing his gloves lmao

Also!! Like any normal person, I did wonder just how bad would it get, if it could get that bad in the jungle, who would be the one to survive the longest if seemingly the only option for the scavengers was to cannibalize each other. My heart says Mangey because he very much Is a crafty little fox willing to bite and scratch for a single berry.

Although I don't really have a clear answer. First and foremost I think they'd most likely have a last ditch effort to kill Thorn or something before fully turning on each other. If so, then each has their own advantage of either flight, agility or strenght so its really up in the air to who would be the most likely to survive. Buuut Mangey could be smart about it and just snatch them while they're asleep, alas I don't think he really would. He's still baby and would think good fifty times before hurting anybody for real, much less kill and well, eat them. Those were his friends, his family. Prim is tbh more likely to throw her colleagues in the meat grinder I think. So if Mangey was, say, pushed to self defense than perhaps...

Either way he IS going to die from a blood infection if he doesn't clean up that eye soon though!! Yeowch...

I shall cease my yapping now, its 3Am, guten nacht

[mydarlingclaudia]

ENTER THE SURVIVAL HORROR…

OCTOBER FIC PLANS 𓉸

some fics I will be posting in October will contain dark content or will be dead dove (given I’ve never really written for either subject so this is new territory for me) but two of the fics I’m going to write are based on or inspired by horror movies and I’ll be writing both Chris and Leon!

also post dates and descriptions may change a tiny bit (though not likely!!) because I have actually only finished one of these fics, but if I do change anything I'll reblog this post!!

coming soon ⟢

taste no evil inspired by… THE VVITCH (10/30/24) -> Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

it's just you and your husband out in the woods. oh, and whatever is living among the trees. you think it's some beastly animal, Leon knows it's witches. but he can't tell you that, you'd freak out, insist on moving closer to town or even further away from where you already lived. Leon can keep you safe, he knows he can, why must you be so paranoid all the time? it doesn't help his case when your animals start being picked off and you start seeing things more clearly. it only ends badly for the both of you.

established relationship, tiny bit of fluff, gore, animal death, I make shit up about witches, cannibalism, major character death, au, fem!reader, re4r!Leon

how much blood would you shed to survive? based on… SAW (10/18/24) -> Chris Redfield x fem!reader

cheating doesn't make you a bad person, it's not like you were even married to the guy, Chris didn't even try to stop you from hitting on him, anyway. maybe getting romantically involved with your coworker wasn't the best decision you've made, but why should anyone else care? you don't let your relationship with him get in the way of your work, all you really do is help each other try to track down the murderer running through Raccoon City, how were you supposed to know said murderer would be your boss? and how were you supposed to know that you'd wake up in one of these traps one morning with Chris getting there surprisingly fast to help you escape?

established relationship, gore, mentions of infidelity, au, fem!reader, re5!Chris

she’s demonic and bloody, but she holds me tight inspired by… IN MY ROOM (10/10/24) -> Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

a college kid with a social life that's almost non-existent figures the dead girl that comes to his room every night is his girlfriend, some say that's a bad thing, he says it's everything he could wish for. who cares, anyway? it's not hurting anyone! well, not yet, at least. there's an endless list of things he'd do for you, you don't even have to ask. but why won't you come back after he takes care of a problem that would have torn you away from him? you love him, right?

not-really established relationship (idk how to explain it), a bit suggestive, Leon is kinda gross, necrophilia, gore, au, fem!reader, re2r!Leon

mouthful of love (10/2/24) -> Chris Redfield x fem!reader

mission gone wrong, the rest of your team had already been killed, so when you end up dying in that same mission it only makes things worse. but Chris can’t just leave you, right? no, that would be cruel, but he can’t really drag around a dead body with him either. who’s gonna know if he took a few bites out of you just to keep you with him? the place had already been crawling with monsters, it wouldn’t be a totally crazy thing to find on a corpse.

established relationship, major character death, gore, cannibalism, fem!reader, anywhere post re1 Chris

I will be using dark content and dead dove for tags so you’ll be able to filter out these fics. I don’t really expect anyone to give a shit about this but for those of you who do wanna read these thank you and happy halloween <3 I might also be posting extras if I find the time and feel like it, those are also probably going to be more cutesy fall fics sooooo