#gold is a cannibal boy right?!

[sec-heriablangel]

(TW: Blood and Cannibalism) Gold is a cannibal boy... (LostSorrow)

Gold is eating someone... Sorrow is really crying and see him

He's shocked to see her

[anomaly-076]

mixing whb with tkdb again... What do you think each ghoul's biggest fetish is?

Sorry for filing up your inbox so often 😭😭😭

Tkdb boys idiosyncrasies (18+)

‎‧₊˚✿Masterlist✿˚₊‧

♦ Don't worry at all! I'm glad someone's interested in my writing! ^^ I also went all out with their full idiosyncrasies like all the WHB demons have, so I hope you don't mind ^^ ♦

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Jin

Master/Servant play

A Prince of Frost, who'd do anything to keep his peace. The only ones allowed into his chambers is his trusty servant Tohma and you. He might be cold, but should you tempt him, things will heat up fast.

Tohma

Capnolagnia (smoking)

Timophilia (gold, wealth and high social status)

If you feel a pair of observing eyes on yourself while in Frostheim, rest assured it's the Prince's advisor. Fear not, however, he's merely making sure you cause no trouble. He's usually the center of attention during Frosteim's balls.

Lucas

Crurophilia (legs)

In search for his twin brother, Lucas finds little to no time to relax between studying and training. Many other students, including his good friend Kaito, have said he simply needs some healthy distraction.

Kaito

Mazophilia (boobs)

Katoptronophilia (mirror sex)

As confident he is, the moment you're around reduces Kaito to a babbling mess. Give him a few moments and he'll compose himself only to attempt charming you.

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Alan

Sthenolagnia (muscles and displays of strength)

Asphyxiophilia (choking) - after he overcomes the fear of hurting others on accident

A gentle giant with an air of danger who is like the older brother of all his fellow Vagastrom students. Some gossips say he's done some bad things in his past, but nobody dares or knows to say what.

Leo

Autagonistophilia (being in front of an audience/camera)

A small social media influencer with a tongue sharper than most blades. Him and his partner in crime, Sho, are the primary source of trouble in the Vagastrom dorm with Leo being the sole insinuator.

Sho

Amaurophilia (blindfold kink)

The students of Vagastrom are known to never pass up a good fight and Sho is no different. You're likely to either run into him at his food truck or in the Vagastrom garagaes, tending to his bike Bonnie.

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Haru

Doraphilia (texture/feel of fur/animal skin)

The naughty and energetic president of Jabberwock who carries his son Peekaboo around everywhere. If you're not shy ask to pet him, he'll let you, and then he'll also let you pet Peekaboo too.

Towa

Dendrophilia (plants) - plants need love too, ig (sorry, again T-T)

A romantically oriented ghoul with a very light-hearted and curious nature. Don't let that fool you, though, his hugs are that of an anaconda about to strangle its prey. He's so in tune with the nature he eats flowers and the weather reflects his emotions.

Ren

Fictophilia (fictional characters)

A gamer who, despite being chosen into an outdoorsy and hardworking Jabberwock, has the right opposite personality traits. He's an overthinking homebody and will refuse to do even the slightest tasks unless he gains a reward or an achievement for it.

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Taiga

Anthropophagy (cannibalism) sorry

Erotophonophilia (murder)

The lunatic president of Sinostra, with very particular tastes. Anyone who's seen him eat will tell you he doesn't mind getting his face dirty while devouring his meal. His impulsivity makes him very trigger-happy.

Romeo

Hoplophilia (guns)

Romeo is a perfectionist and expects nothing less from his partner either. Curiously, one of his closest Sinostra residents is Taiga, who is nothing of that sort. After spending some time around Romeo, you will find yourself getting whipped into shape.

Ritsu

Hybristophilia (criminals, people who committed crimes)

Dikephilia (justice)

Always striving for justice, yet always seeming to condone criminals' behaviour as evident by his lack of interference and defense of Sinostra's president. Perhaps his moral compass more arched than expected?

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Subaru

Chirophilia (hands)

A legacy-bound actor who constantly worries about minuscule things. His compassion knows no bounds even if it might place him into a dangerous situation. His fellow students would say he simply needs a reassurance from someone he trusts.

Haku

Stigmatophilia (tattoos and piercings)

Capnolagnia (smoking) - you couldn't pry this HC from my cold dead hands

Some students might describe him as nothing but nice, and yet some account him to be a mischievous flirt. Both are true, but only his chosen person gets to fully experience how real those rumors are.

Zenji

Metrophilia (poetry)

A truly gifted poet constantly seeking for another source of ideas for his erotic poetry collection. Loves seeking out new partners to inspire his writing and doesn't shy away from describing acts between him and his partner in his poems.

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Edward

Hematolagnia (Drinking/seeing blood)

Odaxelagnia (biting/being bitten)

The ever so thirsty president of Obscuary, though barely few students could testify to seeing him in the flesh. His chambers are only for the most resilient due to the lingering smell of death and mess of clothes, his or someone else's.

Rui

Voyeurism

Calygnephilia (beautiful women)

To many students and employees he is known as a bartender. To many female students, he is known as an irresistible flirt, but who really knows what happens at his bar after the closing hours?

Lyca

Autozoophilia (being/acting like an animal) - for him it's his wolf form

Amychophilia (getting scratched/scratching)

A young werewolf, who is still struggling to navigate living in the human world. He's very curious and eager to learn. He may come off as a bit intense, but those are only his wolf instincts coming out.

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Yuri

Piquerism (cutting/stabbing someone with a sharp objects)

His personality strongly resembles Henry Frankenstein, which is a reputation he gladly upholds. The image is even enhanced when his assistant is around. In the surgeon's eyes, humans are only interesting or mediocre specimen.

Jiro

Free use kink

A stoic and reserved medical assistant, who isn't opposed to most things. His mobility may not be the best, but he will try. He may not feel strong happiness or pleasure himself, but seeing his partner experience them is enough for him.

[hellinistical]

fem! reader x rafayel. royal! au. sea horror! au. heavy angst. minor and major character death. slow burn. romance. fluff. explicit smut. trauma. religious themes. gore; hinted torture, cannibalism, decapitation, self-cannibalism. violence. mdni. wc: 1801 | status: on-going

masterlist | playlist | taglist | next

I: LEGENDS OF OLD

13 years ago…

In a small, dimly lit cottage nestled on the edge of Linkon, an old woman gathered a group of wide-eyed children around the hearth. The fire crackled and cast long shadows on the walls, but the children’s attention was fixed on the old woman, her voice low and full of ancient wisdom.

“Listen well, my dearies,” she began, her voice a hushed whisper, “for this is a tale that has been told in Chronosia for as long as the mountains have stood. It is a tale of the Dark Sea, that cursed water beyond our shores, where no good soul dares to tread.”

The children huddled closer, their small faces filled with curiosity and just a hint of fear.

“The Dark Sea is no ordinary sea,” the old woman continued. “Its waves are as black as night, and it stretches far and wide, so deep that not even the sun’s light can reach its depths. But that’s not the worst of it, oh no. For beneath those waves, there are monsters—terrible, dreadful creatures that would freeze your blood if you were ever to lay eyes on them.”

She paused, letting the silence hang in the air, drawing the children deeper into the story.

“They say these monsters were once men, greedy and cruel, who angered the gods with their wicked ways. The gods turned them into beasts, with scales like iron and teeth sharp as daggers, and banished them to the Dark Sea. And there they wait, lurking in the deep, ready to snatch up any child who doesn’t listen to their elders.”

One of the children gasped, and the old woman nodded gravely. She leaned forward, pushing her glasses up her crooked nose. One of the lenses was cracked, a leg broken; the glasses were sat at an angle. “Aye, that’s right. If you’re bad, if you disobey, the monsters of the Dark Sea will come for you. They’ll drag you beneath the waves, and you’ll never see the light of day again.”

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “But the monsters aren’t the only ones you need to fear. There are also the sirens—beautiful, wicked creatures with voices that can charm the birds from the trees. They sing songs so sweet that you’ll want to do anything they say. But it’s all a trick, my dears. For when you follow their voices into the water, you’ll find yourself surrounded by their sharp claws and fangs. And once they’ve got you, there’s no escape.” She grabs at one of the children as if to demonstrate— a boy with soft brown hair. He jumps, purple eyes wide in fear.

The children trembled, clutching each other for comfort, their imaginations running wild with the old woman’s words.

“There was once a little boy, just about your age… and they called him Rafayel,” Grandmother pointed to the youngest of the group, who was not paying attention. Her h/c hair was in her face, and she blew her fringe up and out as she looked at the granny. “His mother warned him, ‘The Dark Sea is not for the likes of us. It’s a place where no good comes to those who wander too close.’ But Rafayel, thinking himself ever so clever, didn’t heed her warnings, did he?”

The children shook their heads, eyes wide.

“One day,” the old woman continued, “Rafayel couldn’t resist the pull of the sea. The sun was setting, casting the sky in shades of crimson and gold, and he thought to himself, ‘What harm could there be in just a quick look? Just a little closer to see the waves. The shells there are beautiful!’ So he crept down to the shore, his little heart beating with excitement and just a touch of fear.”

She paused, letting the tension build as the children held their breath.

“The sea was calm at first, the waves kissing his feet. Rafayel laughed, ‘The sea is a friend!’,” the old woman said, her voice low, “but as Rafayel stepped closer, the waves began to stir. And then, he heard it—the most beautiful sound he’d ever known. It was a song, soft and sweet, floating on the breeze. The sirens were singing to him, calling his name, promising him wonders beyond his wildest dreams. How could a boy so young resist? He stepped further into the water, letting the waves lap at his legs, his mind lost in the melody.”

The children shuddered, imagining the eerie song pulling them toward the dark, cold sea.

“But as he waded deeper,” the old woman continued, her tone darkening, “the sea began to change. The water grew colder, the sky darker, and the sirens’ sweet voices twisted into something terrible. Before Rafayel could turn back, they appeared—beautiful, yes, but with eyes that burned like a dark fire and smiles that bared sharp, glistening teeth. They circled around him, their claws reaching out, and in that moment, Rafayel knew he’d made a terrible mistake.”

She paused again, letting the children’s imaginations run wild with the horror of what was to come.

“He screamed for his mother, but alas, he was too far out- she heard him, yes, but she could not reach him. The sirens sang to him, and grabbed him,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “and pulled him under the waves. But they didn’t just drown him, oh no. That would have been too merciful. They took him to the deepest part of the Dark Sea, where the light of the sun never reaches, and there, they began their terrible work. They twisted him, reshaped him into something monstrous. His arms sprouted scales, his sides grew fins, and his legs were torn from his little body just to be fused together into a tail, forced back into him. His spine was taken and elongated, his eyes removed, blessed by the sirens, and replaced. And his voice, once full of laughter, became a hollow siren’s song—a song of sorrow and regret disguised as faux laughter, for the sirens do not feel but hunger and desperation.”

“The next morning, all they found of him was his little shoes, washed up on the shore. The sea had taken him, and he was never seen again.”

The children’s eyes were wide with terror, their hearts pounding as they imagined poor Rafayel’s fate.

The children gasped, their eyes filling with tears at the thought of the lost boy.

“So, you see,” the old woman said, her voice firm, “you must always listen to your parents. You must be good, and you must never, ever go near the Dark Sea. For if you do, the monsters and sirens will come for you, and once they do, you’ll be lost forever.”

She sat back in her chair, the firelight casting eerie shadows on her face, and the children, wide-eyed and frightened, nodded vigorously, promising themselves that they would never disobey. A light smirk rested on the woman’s face.

“Good,” the old woman said with a satisfied nod. “Now off to bed with you, and remember what I’ve told you. The Dark Sea is always watching, always waiting. Be good, my dears, and you’ll stay safe.”

And with that, the children scurried off to their beds, their minds filled with the dark waters and the dangers that lurked beneath, vowing to be as good as they possibly could, lest the Dark Sea come for them in the night.

But two stayed behind. The youngest and her friend.

“Grandmother, you don’t really believe that, do you? It’s just a story.” Her smile was lopsided, one of her front teeth missing- she had just lost it the day before.

The old woman smiled, patting her head.

“Who’s to say it is or isn’t? This is our tradition, Y/n.”

“A silly one. You won’t scare me! I don’t wanna go to bed yet.”

“Hmmm…I see. And what about you, Tara?”

Tara, Y/n’s friend, stood by the door, utterly petrified.

“I’ll go to bed!”

“Good girl. You’ll get the first breakfast tomorrow.”

As Tara cheered, Y/n gasped, running up the stairs to go to bed, Tara following soon after.

…

As the children’s small figures disappeared up the stairs, the old woman remained by the hearth, her once-lighthearted demeanor giving way to a somber seriousness. The flickering flames cast long shadows on her wrinkled face, deepening the lines of worry that etched her features.

After a few moments, she stood up and moved to the window, gazing out at the inky blackness of the night. The sea, dark and inscrutable, stretched endlessly beyond the village’s reach, its waves whispering secrets that only the old and wise seemed to understand.

“Damned monsters,” she muttered to herself, her voice a harsh whisper in the quiet of the room. The words were laced with a bitterness borne from years of fear and resignation. The old woman knew that the stories she told were not just tales but grim reminders of the kingdom’s bleak reality.

She sighed deeply, her gaze fixed on the dark horizon. The kingdom of Chronosia, in its perpetual cycle of fear and sacrifice, was preparing for another gathering—a tradition steeped in age-old customs. When the prince came of age, the kingdom would conduct its yearly harvest, a dreadful ritual meant to appease the Dark Sea’s insatiable hunger for the “undesirables” it demanded.

The old woman knew all too well the cruel nature of this tradition. Every year, the kingdom would gather suitable women of age from its villages under the guise of a chance to work in the castle or, if they were lucky, marry a noble. The rest were sent as offerings to the sea, believed to be a necessary sacrifice to maintain the kingdom's safety and prosperity. The prince’s coming of age marked not just the end of his childhood but the beginning of a new round of this macabre ritual.

Her thoughts were heavy as she reflected on the fate that awaited those chosen—innocent lives exchanged for a fleeting promise of protection. The sea, with its dark mysteries and monstrous inhabitants, was never truly satisfied, and the cycle continued, perpetuated by fear and superstition.

The old woman clenched her fists, her knuckles white in the dim light. “May the gods have mercy on those who are chosen,” she whispered, her voice trembling with both anger and sadness. “And may they find a way to break this curse before it claims another soul.”

With one last look at the sea, she turned away from the window, the weight of her thoughts pressing heavily on her shoulders. The night was silent, but the old woman’s heart was troubled, knowing that the shadows of the Dark Sea would soon cast their pall over the kingdom once more.

copyright © 2024 Hellinistical all rights reserved. no part of this story may be reposted, edited, or reproduced without the author's permission.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - We Are Fucked - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"The Ditch. It's not far from the Shimmer Fields, is it?"

"It's not." Sevika's breath comes as if drawn through a pinched straw. "That's where the 'and then some' comes in."

Silco braces himself.

"The fields, sir." She swallows. "They're dead. Whatever that blue shit last night was—it's burnt them to a crisp."

"Burnt?"

"The blackflower reserves. The harvest vats. The processing plants. It's all gone."

"Even the stockpiles?"

"There's nothing left. Not a petal, leaf, or stalk. The blast wiped everything out."

Her eyes, gunmetal in rings of black, lock on his. There's no fear or denial there. Only the hard bullseye of certainty.

We, her eyes say, are fucked.

Silco concurs, with a single nod.

Shimmer is Zaun's beating heart. If it flatlines, the city is finished. Their main export is gone; their industries will tank. Breakthroughs with medicinal Shimmer will go belly-up. Backdoor deals with the Council will fall apart. Their footholds in Piltover's economy—all that painstaking groundwork over the months—will crumble.

Investors will flee in a mass exodus. The chem-barons will turn on him like a pack of rabid dogs.  The rest of his network will fracture and cannibalize itself. All the strays he's sheltered—Dustin, Ran, Lock, Avi, Posky—will be flung back to the old hell of bloodsports, human auctions, and streetside debasement. Dustin will end up OD'ing before the month is done. Ran will wind up on the slaver's chopping block. Lock will fall back to the fighting pits, a dead-eyed shell of his old self. Avi will fly straight into Bilgewater, only to be blasted into fish-fodder. Posky, poor boy, will end up in some brothel's basement: the kind with cages, where the clients get to choose their favorite cut of meat.

And Sevika?

She'll survive. Of that, he has no doubt. But he'd lose her. Not as his bedmate or his XO; he'd lose her faith. And, in losing it, win a knife to the ribs.

Sevika's not the type to forgive betrayal of that scale.

Nor can he fault her.

He'd promised them a brighter tomorrow. Promised a future, not an endless present of pain. A city that was more than a safe harbor, but an ethos, an ideology, an unshakable self-belief.

Now, that promise is in shreds.

There's a saying in the Undercity: A disloyal motherfucker is born dead every minute.

For Silco, it'll be a fitting epitaph.

He dares not seek Medarda's aid. She'll never condescend to bankroll an exportless economy; her gold, when she deigns to dole it out, is not alms, but a gauntlet. Prove yourself worthy, or perish. Now, having already invested so heavily in their partnership, she won't cut her losses right off. But he'll be left in the unenviable position of owing her his balls on a golden platter.

She will make the most of the meal. She'll leverage his failure for her own ends: leverage him along with it. Silco shudders to imagine his ambitions shredded like sweetmeats between her pretty white teeth. Feels the shudder deepen to icewater as he pictures Medarda standing over him, gloved fingers on his chin, forcing his eyes up. Smiling as she orders him to take it all down his throat: his pride, his dignity, and all that gold.

She'd enjoy it, the bitch.

And after she's had her fun—dragged him to the gutter of her satisfaction and the slaughterhouse of his self-respect—she'll hand him off. To the next bored blueblood with a fetish for slumming it, or simply to the high courts for his crimes against her Council.

He'll be back where he'd begun: a rat on the run, with no recourse except a fast-track to ruin.

And Jinx—

Silco breathes. In, and out. Wills the pressure in his lungs to recede. Wills the terror to a place where it can't touch him. Wills himself to a place where nothing touches him, and lives: the place where the Monster is submerged. 

And, as blood pools between the Monster's teeth, he thinks:

You’ll never drag me back down: whole or in pieces.

I’ll kill every last one of you before I let that happen.

I’ve got nothing left to lose. Nothing but Jinx.

And to keep her, he'll burn down whatever's left of his soul. Will turn the whole goddamned city to dust.

Watch it burn.

[eternal-love]

STRANGERS (+18)

Pairing: Cowboy!Austin x Female!Reader

Summary: In 1969 you ran away from home, from your religious craze parents. You should’ve listened to your parents, you shouldn’t have talked to strangers.

Note: This is HEAVILY inspired by Ethel Cain’s Strangers. You don’t really have to read it if you don’t want to, perhaps this is very… heavy for what I normally write.

Warning: Prostitution, religious talk, cannib*lism, death, murder.

Your body grew cold on his basement. Your mind went to the words everyone spoke to you since you were a child:

‘Don’t talk to strangers or you might fall in love.’

The hot air hit your face as you sat on the side of the road, watching only pick-up trucks drive by, with cattle or vegetables and fruit. In your bell bottoms and band tshirt, you sighed. You had been trying to hitchhike again, but the farmers ignored you.

You were giving up, you were walking by the side of the road, you watched a cowboy walking with his brown horse. The man slowed down the horse.

“What’cha doing here, doll?” He asked you, smile on his face.

“You care?” You said, rolling your eyes. As you kept walking, but his horse kept walking by your side.

“Indeed I do, doll. What’s a pretty face like yours doin’ here?” He asked, the throttling of the horse filled the silent road.

“Just, admiring.” You lied, what a shitty lie.

“Damn right you are. You ain’t from round here, I can see it. You one of them city girls?” He asked, a smirk in his face.

Should you lie? He was attractive, very. Why not?

“Do you know of a nearby town?” You asked. “And no, I’m not from around here.”

“Well, dollface, the only town I know of is mine and I can do a sweet thing like you a favor.” He looked at you up and down.

You thought about it. Wondering and thinking all things that could go wrong. He could kill her, well, he seemed kind enough. Of course he wouldn’t kill her.

“Say listen. Whiskey and I will give ya a ride. You can stay in my farm.”

“Really?” You asked, incredulous of his kindness.

“Really, doll. Come on.”

You got on his horse, holding your backpack as your arms wrapped around his waist. You were trusting your life to him. Truly. And you trusted him a whole fucking much that now you regretted it.

Now, a few years later. Six specifically. You were living THE life. Was it the one you wanted? No, absolutely not. A cowboy’s wife life wasn’t what you thought you’d want. But strangely, you found yourself liking the entire shift in your life.

But you liked it, you didn’t do anything related to farm work. You changed but not so much, you didn’t enjoy feeding pigs, or chickens or cleaning cow and horse shit. Maybe you ran away, but you found gold with Austin. Your Austin, your husband, the father of your children. Two by the way. Two boys, Brando and Johnny.

Maybe if you were still in the city with your religious parents you would’ve had this same life, but with a man you would’ve probably forced yourself to like. Did you miss your parents? Absolutely, with all their faults, you missed your mother. More. She was the best of the two, you missed her warm arms, and her delicious cooking that you tried to recreate faithfully every day.

Your mother was still waiting for you, still sticking brochures with your photo. You were too reckless but you were her baby. And she missed her baby. You often wondered while looking at the stars, if she was looking at them too. You were doing the best you could, under the very same moon but different states.

“Why are you still here?” Austin asked you from the front door as you sat on the porch’s steps. “Ya still wonderin’ bout your parents? They ain’t lookin’ for you no more. If they were, they would’ve found ya already.”

You sighed. You didn’t know anything about them anymore, so he must be right.

“I know. I just like the weather, it’s perfect.” You looked over your shoulder, a pout in your mouth.

“Why you poutin’ baby, hm?” He walked towards you, sat by your side and grabbed your chin softly. “No poutin’ alright? You have us here. We’re family. We good?”

You smiled at him, nodding. “Good.”

“Now get inside. Johnny’s diaper needs a change.” He said, his hand dropping from your chin.

You made your way inside, and you picked up Johnny. Tickling his belly.

You loved your boys, even though changing their cloth diapers wasn’t something you enjoyed.

But the money was tight and you were married to a literal cowboy, did you think you’d buy disposable diapers? Ha!

You tucked your boys into their beds. Smiling at the oldest, Brando.

“What’s with the face?” You asked, smiling.

“Can we play with the pigs tomorrow?” Brando asked, fidgeting with his fingers.

“You know you can’t play with pigs. They’re too big! Bigger than you!” You tickled his belly. The boy giggled. His chubby cheeks were rosy pink.

“But we can get on horses. I’ll take you and Buttercream around tomorrow.” You promised. “But only if you sleep!”

Brando nodded immediately, closing his eyes and not moving. After a while, he fell asleep. You looked at Johnny in his crib and at Brando.

“I love you.” You whispered to both.

Then you were walking to your bedroom, but saw Austin on the kitchen, drinking some liquor. He looked stressed.

“What is it, baby?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind. Kissing his cheek.

“Money’s tight. We haven’t been havin’ a good week, month. Year. I need you to help me make money.”

Confused, you walk to be besides him. Make money? There wasn’t many jobs women could do in the nearby town.

“How so?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Remember that there’s some friends of mine that like you real bad—“

“Absolutely not. No.” You shook your head. No, you wouldn’t go so low to sell your body. That was too far. Even for a runaway like you!

“You live here for free anyways, doll face. Don’t forget it. I give you a roof, food, a bed, some real nice arms to sleep with every night.” He snapped at you. You startled, he barely raised his voice, but when he did, it scared you.

“When did all of this become a give and take?” You asked him. Hurt because he didn’t seen you birthing his kids and taking care of him as something worth of at least some recognition.

“It’s always been that, sweetheart.” He grabbed your wrist suddenly. “Don’t forget your place now, please…”

You stared at him. Not wanting to do it.

“Just think of our boys. Aren’t they your babies? Don’t you want to give them a good life? Because I sure as hell want to. And if you ain’t willing to do so then I don’t know why you’re still here.” He said. Squeezing your wrist.

He was guilt-tripping you, but did you know? Of course not. It was 1975, maybe he was just doing what was best for the kids.

You felt as if your life had completely changed. You weren’t so bright and smiley anymore. Not when every night you had disgusting farmers and cowboys all over you.

You started smoking too many cigarettes, more than you could count. Austin often stood outside the door, smoking and counting money. After the last man left, Austin entered the now transformed barn, smiling like a victor.

“Honey, you’ll make me rich like a goddamn Rockefeller!” He smiled widely, counting money on his hands.

You weren’t crying but you felt very empty inside. You did this because of your boys. Only because of that. But a tear escaped your eye, he pouted.

“Why the tears, dollface?” He knelt in front of you, wiping your tear with his calloused thumb. “This is for the boys. Alright? They’ll appreciate it. You did good today.”

What you did to forget everything was drink and drink. You sometimes tended your sons drunk, stumbling and maybe not remembering much the next day, but you made it to stay sane. And it worked. It did wonders.

But you had to deal with it. Anyways.

“Let’s go inside. I already tucked the boys in. C’mon, doll. You know— we’re a team. And we do this because we love each other, don’t we?”

But God, you loved the man. He was the most charming man you could have encountered. There was a reason why you settled down. Why you stayed in the shitty farm. You could have gone around more states if he hadn’t found you. Perhaps you could be dead by now. He was the best thing you could have found.

“Yes we are.” You smiled at him, forcing it out but it was true. You really thought you were a team in this. Because he was also getting hurt, watching his wife get railed by random men every night.

He treated you kindly, unless you wanted his whole business to end. Because he pulled out his shot gun and he got crazy. And that scared you, a whole lot. His eyes, the way he held into the weapon.

It was something you tried to not do: make him mad. You didn’t want to end up dead. But this was your husband, for all his faults, you loved him and you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

Back in California, your mother shopped at the local market. She stood in the dairy aisle, staring at the milk carton with your face in it. Her sweet girl. Tears filled her eyes.

You were always a rebel but oh, how she missed you. She hadn’t been able to sleep since you left. She worried every minute the breathed. She still waited up for you every night, hoping that one day, you’ll come back knocking on the door.

But she knew that you left because of her too, your father and her had always been too strict, too religious and too suffocating. She didn’t blame you for leaving. She just wished to see you once again so she could apologize. But she knew that you would never forgive her for everything she had let her husband do to you.

She practically lived in your bedroom now. Always holding your old teddy bear, your old diplomas, your old photos. She hoped that you were at least okay, happy, but she wished that you came back to her.

“She won’t come back, love.” Your father said, starting to get tired of your mother dwelling of your absence.

“She has to. My baby has to come back to me.” Your mother said, holding into one of your jackets, it didn’t smell like you anymore, but just the mere thought of you ever wearing it was comforting enough. “We shouldn’t have been the way we were.”

“We had to be strict, it’s what’s right.” Your father said firmly. As a priest, he believed in God above anyone else. Even before your mother and you.

You were his pride, of course, he loved you with all his might. His only child.

You were crying in bed, tired and sad. Perhaps even a bit drunk. You heard his cowboy boots creaking in the floor.

“What’cha cryin’ for, doll?”

“Nothing, don’t worry.” You sniffled your tears, wiping them away. You were in this long nightgown.

“Hey, don’t lie to me, doll. Ya sad?” He sat down on the bed, sipping his whisky.

“It’s really nothing. Just, thinkin’ of my parents.”

“How many times have I told you to not think about them?” His voice hardened. “They ain’t your family, I am, the boys are. We’re the only ones you need.”

You sighed, nodding. Austin grabbed your chin. You should humbly be grateful for the fact that he picked you up from the side way, took you to his house, made you his wife, have you children, gave you a roof over your head and food on the table.

“You should be happy that you’re here. That I gave you all of this. What you do with those men— is you repaying all I’ve done for your ass.” Austin dropped your chin, she stopped feeling the coldness of his calloused hands

He leaned in and kissed you, lifting your nightgown. He made love to you all night, as if to prove that you were still his, that no matter how many men fucked you, you still had his last name.

And you just wanted to be his, just that, to be his. You just wanted him to say it. That’s why you tried to be good.

We’re you no good?

Were you no good?

Were you no good?

You were very drunk, you couldn’t even think properly and your vision was blurry. Inside the barn, you had one of your boy’s teddy bears, it made you feel less lonely and it made you have a reason on why you were doing this.

You had this client that was particularly violent, throwing you around. You didn’t feel anything, you were drunk, drunk as hell.

All you heard was Austin’s voice, the man’s voice, someone loading a shot-gun. And then the gun-shot and it that very moment, you fell down.

Had he shot you? Did Austin shoot you? Did the love of your life shot you? In your head, you thought that it was because you were refusing the man, maybe he grew tired of you and decided that you weren’t fit anymore.

You were good.

You tried to be good.

Were you not good?

You were his.

Were you not his?

You wanted him to tell you that you were his.

Austin freaked out, the other man fled. He saw you there, he ran to your side.

“Doll, doll, doll!” Austin tried to wake you up. Freaked out, tears pricked his eyes out of desperation.

What had he done?

He dragged your body to his basement, scared, still crying like a goddamn baby. But he tried to make sure to not wake up the boys.

He stared at your body, he hated it so bad. He hated to see you now. He despised the sight of your cold body.

He couldn’t even sleep that night, he tossed and turned. What was he going to do with your body?

Bury you? What if he sold the ranch and the new owner found you? Burn you? No, he wasn’t going to disrespect you like that. He would be erasing you from the world— but he had already done it.

He had killed you the minute he started pimping you out for miserable bucks.

He thought for days, until on a psychotic episode, he decided something— if he consumed you, he would always have a piece of you with him, he would have you forever, within him, in his system.

He devoured you like smoked bovine skin, it was funny, bovine skin was tough. Ha, you never considered yourself tough.

But he looked so handsome with you all over his mouth. He cried while he chewed, he really cried, chugging whisky so you wouldn’t come back like puke.

You worried. We’re you making his stomach turn? Were you making him feel sick? You worried for that, how dare you make him feel sick? You felt guilty, not even after your death you could do anything right.

Your sons came running to the kitchen, but Austin only yelled for them to go away. You got angry, why was he yelling at your little boys?

He had left them motherless. No. It was a cycle. Your mother was a childless mother and your sons were motherless children. He had taken you twice. Twice.

Now you didn’t feel guilty. If anything, you were taunting him.

Am I making you feel sick?

Am I making you feel sick?

Am I making you feel sick?

Am I making you feel sick?

He puked all over himself, sobbing his eyes and heart out. He didn’t have any other choice but turn himself in, the guilt was eating him away just like he had eaten you.

He had destroyed and disrespected your body. From day one. Your memory was now restricted to a Polaroid in the police’s evidence. The few people in town who knew you would only remember the horrid nature of your death, they wouldn’t remember you as a person.

You wished to talk to your mother one last time. To hug her and cry in her arms.

To tell her that you made it real far.

That you never blamed her for loving you the way she did while she was torn apart because of your father.

To make her stop thinking about you so hard so that she could get sleep at night again.

For her to stop worrying about you and your beautiful eyes.

To tell your mother and sons that you love them.

‘And I’ll see you when you get here.’

[wolfoftheblackflames]

Looks like you guys are getting another fic. So here it is, misfits! Have some adorable Chaggie/RainbowAngel fluff! (I wrote this at like 3 to 4 a.m., so yeah, that's why it's shorter than my other fics)

When magic goes awry:

“Uh what the fuck am I looking at?”

Those words were on everyone's minds as something small, red, fluffy and with a shit eating grin was seen. In front of the little creature was a familiar mic as it snatched it up. “Ah mierda!” (Oh fuck!) Vaggie yelped as the critter skittered past her and snatched her spear with a cheeky grin.

“Quick catch it!” Charlie barked, sending the boys on a goose chase with the weird creature. “I seriously didn't mean to turn Al into that thing, honest!”

Angel looked back at her as the creature ran past him. “Quick Niff catch it!”

“Oh sir you look so cute, c'mere so I can hug you!” Niffty chased the critter alongside the boys.

Vaggie was grimacing, holding her hand which the creature had bit. “Fucking cannibal teeth…” She hissed as golden blood leaked from the bite.

“Oh shit!” Charlie gasped seeing the wound and quickly ran over from the other side of the room. “Fuck I'm really sorry Vaggie!” She started fretting since it was kinda her fault Alastor got turned into that thing. The grey skinned woman looked up at her girlfriend who was panicking. “It's not your fault hon, blame your dad since he's the one who caused this mess…” Vaggie narrowed her eye at Lucifer who was laughing at the chaos.

“I think it's an improvement? Besides, what's the harm in a little prank??” The short king replied with a big grin much to Charlie’s dismay. “First time I asked you to teach me some more magic and you pull this?!” The princess glared at her dad.

“C’mon char-char, it's harmless..” Lucifer laughed nervously however gulped seeing his child flash her demonic eyes at him. “Go. Fix. This. Now.”

“On it apple pie!” Lucifer yelped, bolting off to join the others while they chased down Alastor.

Vaggie blinked looking up at Charlie who looked annoyed. “Hey it's not that bad hon..” She started but soon blushed when Charlie brought that wounded hand to her lips and kissed the knuckle. “I know.. It's just I hate seeing you get hurt..”

Vaggie’s gaze softened, with everything that's happened such as the hotel being rebuilt after the fight with Adam’s army, she felt the same way about Charlie getting hurt too. “Babe..” Her hand raised and slightly tucked some hair behind Charlie’s cute little pointed ear. “Look on the bright side, he didn't bite the bad hand..?”

Charlie pouted at that attempt, but then gently took the injured hand with both her own and started to channel some magic into them. The bite wound disappeared with ease as Vaggie blinked. Right Charlie was half seraphim since Lucifer was a fallen angel. “Babe… The battle with heaven, with what we lost… I have nightmares about it..” The princess admitted with her ruby eyes looking down at the new carpet.

“I know hon, me too.. But can I show you something?” Vaggie smiled softly and sat down on the armrest of the sofa. “What is it?” Charlie couldn't help but be curious as she sat beside her girlfriend.

As everyone else chased Alastor around the newly built hotel, Vaggie extended a wing over Charlie, though what came next made the princess do a double take after she started to idly stroke the feathers. “It only happens when I'm really comfortable, and since I don't have to hide anymore…” Vaggie’s cheeks turned into a beautiful shade of gold as Charlie felt her girlfriend purr, it sounded like a soft falcon coo.

Those ruby eyes went wide as Charlie's jaw dropped. “Since when can you do that?!” She jolted up staring. “It's seriously the cutest fucking thing ever!”

“Well all exorcists can do this, but only with those they're really comfortable with as it is a sign of affection. Don't get me wrong, hon, I was incredibly comfortable with you but I just felt so guilty about hiding my secret I just couldn't really relax enough to do this..” Vaggie admitted with a sheepish scratch to her neck.

Charlie blinked but smiled softly bringing Vaggie in for a cuddle. “Well here's something you didn't know I could do… It's embarrassing but..” She blushed and did a very cute wolf-like growl followed up by a soft goat meh.

Now it was Vaggie's turn to do a double take. But before she could say anything a loud crash was heard. “Fuck he knocked over all the pans in the new kitchen!” Angel Dust yelled as Alastor ran out of said kitchen towards the cuddling girls.

Charlie blinked seeing a devilish grin on Vaggie's face. “Tiempo de venganza pequeña mierda..” (Payback time you little shit) She moved in front of her princess and tossed something at Alastor.

The critter stopped and dropped the items in his jaws before he started to play with the item. It was a little yellow ducky plushie with catnip inside. “Why do you have that..?” Charlie asked bewildered.

“Was going to toss it at Husk if he ever pissed me off enough. But he's a decent guy so it's fine to use it now.” The angel grinned smugly as the others looked slack jawed.

“Is that why I kept smelling something nice on you?!” Husk blinked as Angel laughed.

Lucifer just stared “Why did it have to be a duck…” He groaned as the critter tore it apart to get at the catnip inside.

After a while, the spell was reversed as Alastor rose up looking pissed. He soon started to chase Lucifer around the hotel with his shadow in hot pursuit as well. That was the last time anyone decided to pull a prank on Alastor.

(Couldn't resist the cursed cat Alastor bit too. Also thanks for the idea of Vaggie possibly being able to purr? I thought it was the cutest idea!)

[sofiepofie20]

survivor!kei x zombie!reader

cw: cannibalism mentions obviously...

u were wandering around aimlessly, hunting for human remains to eat, when u saw him, also looking for food inside a market. he was probably the last survivor in that part of town, since you had seen zombies eat a group of people a few weeks ago, people who were in the city for months.

u approached the blond boy to say hi. he wasn't very friendly and tried to cut ur head off, but with a little talking, he didn't kill u. even though he almost took ur life, u were intrigued. the boy was probably the last survivor, and that was... hot. and the boy, he looked delicious. u were infatuated, completely and utterly enchanted, and so u decided to follow him!

and then began a long journey with a zombie.

Kei didn't trust u at all. he could barely sleep at night knowing he had a zombie by his side, but well, u helped. u helped kill zombies, looked for food for him, gave him gifts. I mean, i dont know if a human arm can be considered a gift, but wathever.

u were actually quite useful. and it was also nice to have company after traveling alone for so much time, even if the company was a Zombie. and so time passed. u two spent a year traveling together, going from city to city, killing zombies and having life-or-death adventures. u two created a bond of friendship.

but... that wasn't just friendship for u, was it?

Kei was much more than just a friend. he was strong, talented, smart, handsome, tall, serious... everything u could ever want in a guy. u remember ur human days, long before the apocalypse began. u were always picking ur heart up off the floor, rejection after rejection. But now, you are everything each other has.

u love Kei, u truly do. ur heart would beat faster if u were still a human. and he is just SO delicious.

eating the brain of someone so intelligent would be an honor! his arms are so strong and juicy, his eyes are beautiful and they look like they would taste so good. but... what u crave the most is his heart.

Kei is loyal, kind, gentle and hard-working, even if he tries to hide it underneath that salty attitude. he has a heart of gold, and u can't wait to get ur hands on it.

u would eat him whole, limb by limb, just so u can have a part of him. just so u two can be one. so u can feel last beat of his heart in ur hands. so u can make sure that he won't leave u, like ur family and friends did.

u do love him. this is just ur twisted way of showing that u care. u wouldn't really eat him, right?

RIGHT?????

AAAAAAAAA I LOVE WRITING CANNIBALISM AS A WAY OF SHOWING LOVE!! thanks for reading (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

[envythemouse]

All-time Hannibal extended universe recs

Will/Nigel from Charlie Countryman

Heart of Spades by WaffleBunny13

Summary: Will pauses when he sees the face of the man in front of him then the cup of coffee slips from his hand.

“N-Nigel?”

Hannibal's neck nearly snaps to look at Will with a frown on his face then the doppelganger, Nigel, steps forward to Will with a smirk on his face and his hands casually resting in his pockets.

“Hello, gorgeous”

Envy’s notes: Nigel and Hannibal are not related. Nigel shows up at a crime scene. Everyone thinks he’s Hannibal. Then Will and Hannibal arrive, Hannibal finds out his look-alike is Will’s ex from the time he was on a scholarship in Romania.

Unconventional Therapy by DarkmoonSigel, sku7314977

Summary: Upon noticing that Will has been having some difficulty separating his mind from the monsters he’s made to chase, Hannibal makes a rather unexpected suggestion for some uncommon therapy to help the empath unwind.

Envy’s notes: Hannibal suggests sex as a form of therapy thinking he could finally get close to Will. Will instead goes out and stumbles upon Hannibal’s brother Nigel, they proceed to fuck in Hannibal’s house which makes for an awkward morning after.

Behave by sourweather

Summary: Nigel and Hannibal are sharing their Omega. Taking Turns, so to speak. Today, Nigel is to accompany Will to a crime scene. Will isn't looking forward to it. He loves Nigel, but he doesn't exactly play well with others.

He's proven right to worry when Nigel makes a less than perfect first impression on Jack Crawford.

Envy’s notes: Protective!Nigel. Nigel defends Will from Jack the way I always wished Hannibal would have done in canon.

"Two women are dead," Jack says, growl distorting his usual voice.

"And Will is alive!" Nigel snarls in response. "You'd think keeping him that way might be more important to you, but here you are running him into the fuckin' ground."

Will/Clifford from Death Stranding

The Beauty of the Rain by EarthsickWithoutYou

Summary: Part one of my Deathgram AU -- in which Hannibal discovers that Will has taken a lover who resembles him strikingly, an ex from his past in New Orleans. A man named Clifford Unger who bears the weight of the world on his shoulders, riddled with self-doubt, regret, trauma and grief. But he considers it his mission in life beyond all else to cherish and protect Will Graham, the light of his life, his redeeming soulmate.

Now that he has Will back in his arms, Cliff won't let anyone hurt his boy, even a clever, scheming, crazy-shocked-jealous therapist/cannibal who has been playing with fire and may now pay the price.

Envy’s notes: Hannibal comes over unannounced and discovers Will has Clifford as his lover. Clifford finds out about Will being sick lately so he takes him straight to the hospital and later gets revenge on Hannibal because there’s no way the former doctor didn’t know about Will’s sickness.

Will/Lucas from Jagten|The Hunt

Organ by CarnivalMirai

Summary: A week after the funeral, Lucas gets a parcel from one W. Graham. At first, he thinks it’s a wrong delivery. But the parcel is addressed directly to him. So curiously, he opens it.

Inside the box is another box. This time, in the shape of a small house or kennel— it’s a build-a-bear bear. He pulls the box out to see a card slipped in the box, again, addressed to Lucas. So he opens it.

Dear Lucas, I’m sorry for the loss of your son. He saved my life. I thought maybe you’d enjoy his heart beat. I hope you enjoy the bear. Kindly yours, Will Graham

Envy’s notes: Very interesting concept, imagine falling in love with a man who carries your son’s heart. No Hannigram, though Hannibal is one of Will’s doctors.

Sanctuary by Astromeda, tinypurpleghost

Summary: In the aftermath of a plunge that claimed one monster but spared another, Will Graham seeks refuge in a small Danish town. There, he meets Lucas, a kindergarten teacher with a heart of gold, and the spark between them is immediate and undeniable. When Lucas is falsely accused of a heinous crime, the monster inside Will yearns for blood. Even as Will tries to support Lucas in the way he needs, he realizes that he will stop at nothing to protect what’s his.

Envy’s notes: A post-fall fic where Hannibal dies and Will survives. He moves to Denmark and falls in love with Lucas pre-movie. Then canon happens except Will will do anything to protect the man he loves (and their dogs). Will is still in contact with Jack and there’s a man in town who knows of Will’s past. Lucas eventually finds out and accepts Will’s darker side.

Prince Charmont/One Eye (Ella Enchanted|Valhalla Rising)

Perfect Stranger by victorine

Summary: Char doesn't know Frank. Frank doesn't know Char. So how the hell did they wind up hugging in the middle of a park at midnight on Valentine's Day? And what will Char do when he realises it's not actually his best friend Ella rubbing soothing circles into his back?

Envy’s notes: Prince Charming is upset and a stranger (though he doesn’t know it’s a stranger) comforts him.  Oh and it’s Valentine’s day.

Just look at his smile. ⬆ How can you not like that? Lucas is adorable. I only wish I could see the movie without having to pay extra for it, damn it Amazon.

Nigel makes smoking and cussing look attractive somehow.

@principesorosado

[bubblingcolaa]

Long wordy post again oh no (I don't have a sketchbook, okay)

So basically this is just to uh.. explain how I view Roger? A lot of people will probably disagree with me and like.. I get it. It's a strech from an actual book representation and such. A lot of my ideas are, and I need to re read the book so I get a better understanding. (Also sorry for bad gramrr and spelling errors and such. It's late and I spent like an hour on Duolingo so my Brian is thinking more in foreign languagess rather than English)

Anywho, my thought was like.. Roger doesn't nessicarly need to be cold and such. Yes he's described as a shady kid whom know body notices, but like, that doesn't mean that he's nessicarly emo. Y'know? I personally think that the reason why Roger is a sociopath borderline psychopath is because that's just his brain. Like it's that occasion where that part of the brain that feels sympathy and empathy didn't develop correctly for Roger, and that's why he is the way he is. Like, he knows what he does is bad and all, and he can slightly control it. But, overall, he just doesn't care. But, this doesn't neeissicarlky exclude the fact that he can be kind of caring, right? Perhaps he has a strange way of showing it, but there's a few people I hiss life that be does care for. Find torrlible. Like maybe his way of showing that he wants to befriend someone is just giving them a rock or writing a detail essay on like.. the physiological side effects of cannibalism or something. Whatever Roger would do. And also, keeping the fact that he's basically the quiet kid an d doesn't talk to anybody. He like.. only knows people if their a friend of Jack's or something.

So, that's all I'm saying. I know it's far out from the book and literally nothing like this is proven in it, but then again, the book is about the harm of mass thinking and all, I don't think William golding was too concerned about fully developing a little furtive boy whose basically a side character and only says like seven sentences in the whole entire book. (Directly, there's a few that is emplied)

Anywho, that's all I have ://

[sugaroto]

Sometimes I think that if ουράνιο τόξο was American the catholics would have canceled it

A while ago I made a poll "guess what ουράνιο τόξο is" but I lost it and never gave the right answer but

I do believe American catholics would have canceled it

First of, Ουράνιο τόξο means Rainbow

HOW DARE THEY GAY OUR KIDS

Yeah... some people just see rainbows and go nuts. They would have lost it with a TV program called "Rainbow"

Which btw changed its name to "Τα 1.000 χρώματα του Χρήστου" (Christo's 1.000 colors) a few years ago but ouranio tokso is iconic

Oh yeah, what do kids have to do with that

Well

This is Christos the presenter of the show

He interviews people

These are the people he interviews

He has PATIENCE

The kids usually go there play a game, draw, read a book or something while he "interviews" them, like "what's your name?" "How old are you?" "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Etc

The answers he gets... they're gold. Still remembered.

And he has patience the kids say some bizarre shit and he's like "Yeah sounds about right"

Christos: How many girls are there in your class?

Girl: 8

Ch: and how many boys?

G: 10

Ch: So how many kids are there in your class?

G: 11

Ch: you don't do math in your class do you?

G: no

Ch: yeah I thought so

DUDE

Or like, the cannibal boy💀 he went into detail about eating blood and intestines and how his mom cooks blood and Christos was like "Yeah I guess Mac n cheese is too basic for you"

Or the bat boy.

Bat boy: when I grow up I'll be a bat

Doctor boy: you can't be a bat

Bb: that's what I decided 😠

Ch: well ok if that's what you decided, ok. So tell me how will you do it? Is there a school? Will you get a diploma?

How is that man not laughing 😭

Yeah wait what was my point-

So I gave yall an idea of what rainbow is like, a TV program loved by greeks that holds precious childhood memories and funny moments of kids

Yeah well bc the internet is weird I feel like if it was English some people would be like

"I'm 17 (minor) and feel so disgusted by the male. In literally trembling. Why is he next to kids. Pedophile. Rainbow gay. Prison him and burn him alive."

Sorry for typing that😭

Also yes the 17(minor) is based on that person who got scared by a glass

Ofc this problem (canceling rainbow) does not exist and Christos is a very sweet and patient guy who does a funny show with kids

But I can't stop thinking that if Karens found out about it they would gay-zied it bc of the title and then create problems anywhere

[fate-magical-girls]

What happens to a princess if the fairy tale stops focusing on her?

She left her duchy with a golden dowry. She met her handsome, virile fiancee when he rescued her from the dwarf who had waylaid the bridal party and held her prisoner in an underground dungeon. They married in a ceremony that, while not the envy of the age, was still suitably splendid. Her first child was a boy, followed by a darling girl, followed by yet another boy. Despite the Dahuts, wicked mermaids of sunken cities, kidnapping her children and saddling her with accusations of murder and cannibalism, her husband stood by her until the mystery was solved. Finally, she rejoined the royal court, secure in her knowledge she would be queen once her husband is crowned king.

Her life, with its ups and downs, seemed to be a fairy tale. But real life has no happily ever afters. Her husband could fight off monsters, but not the treachery of his own brothers. He died in her arms, stabbed in the back. His murderers were justly slain in the ensuing succession crisis, but so are many others of the royal family. When the dust settled over the widows and orphans, she thanked heaven that her own children were all alive, if removed from the succession in favor of their only remaining uncle.

The new king is nothing more than a puppet for his courtiers, but at least he is kind to her children and shows every sign of having an uneventful reign. And then he marries.

The new bride comes with a small dowry and the bad reputation of having stabbed a knight that displeased her. They marry in a relatively simple ceremony, the best her poor, weak-willed, unimpressive brother-in-law could hope for. The foreign princess sits on the throne that by right should have been hers.

In the weeks to come, it becomes readily apparent that royal proclamations no longer come from the mouth of her meek, studious brother-in-law, but the aggressive new queen. She watches with some apprehension as old faces disappear from court, to be replaced with new faces only loyal to the queen. But what truly horrifies her is a letter requesting, or rather demanding, her children be fostered in the royal household.

Despite all her brother-in-law's love-besotted assurances, she cannot bring herself to trust the queen. She's seen the fierce spark in her eyes, the haughty tilt to her chin, the charming but cruel curve to her perfect little mouth, and the confident energy in her movements. The new queen is ambitious and will tolerate no rivals.

This is the story she tells to the Chorchelle in the ancient ruins. This is the reason she cuts off three three dark locks to offer the green-toothed sorceress a payment in night-gold. As the Chorchelle's cold touch around her shoulders seal their pact, she speaks her wishes: stop the wicked queen, save her children, and maybe, just maybe, let her husband be alive at her side.

Her life is a fairy tale, and she deserves her happy ending...

[atamascolily]

princess tutu re-watch, episode 15

awwww yeah, Coppelia episode!

(of all the ridiculous classic ballet plots, Coppelia is my favorite because it's literally "guy makes a doll so realistic, a teenage boy falls in love with it, only to nearly get sacrificed by its creator to bring her to life, but is rescued by his girlfriend pretending to be the doll, and then they get married like that whole thing didn't just happen". There's also an alternate, happier version where the creator helps the girlfriend troll her boyfriend for the lulz instead of trying to kill him, but either way, he gets a bag of money at the end, and it's a riot.)

also the parallels with Drosselmeyer, puppets, and everything going on with Rue and Mytho are obvious

Ahiru: Gosh, it sure was weird Mytho leaped out the window and I had to rescue him again! I sure hope nothing's wrong.

Fakir (watching Mytho sleep in a totally not-creepy way): I have no idea what's happening, but it's probably bad.

Fakir is right! It turns out that evil!Mytho is accusing Fakir of pushing him out of the window, and everyone believes it-- except for Ahiru, of course.

Neko-sensei's like, "look, you two, I've seen people do crazier things for love, so the best solution is for you two to no longer be roommates" but of course Mytho will not stop there.

conveniently, no one pays any attention to the random duck wandering around with a bundle of clothes on her back. Just a normal day at Gold Crown academy, apparently.

we learn from Pike that in addition to seeing Fakir push Mytho out the window, all of the eyewitnesses saw a "white bird" (Tutu) save him, as if he's protected by "the God of Dance", so not everyone can see her/notice the effects.

Mytho (looking at Pike and licking his lips): you have such a great heart. I'm going to eat it. Just rip it out and devour it whole. And--this is the best part--you're gonna thank me for it.

Fakir, your anger management issues and brusque manner, while understandable, are not winning you any friends here.

The evil raven is an eldritch horror living in what is basically a PMMM labyrinth, and a single talon dwarfs Rue completely.

here we see the real villain isn't Rue, but her "father", who has gaslighted her into believing herself ugly (because she's human) and that he and Mytho are the only people who can love her. Essentially, Rue is his tool, and so is Tutu, because only Tutu can restore the heart shards.

Fifteen episodes in, and we've learned more about Pike than in the previous fourteen episodes combined.

Rue mocking Fakir for his book learning may NOT be the most advisable decision when you're literally all characters in a story, hahaha

Pike sneaks out of the dorm at night and, ignoring all the major red flags, agrees to join Mytho's creepy cult of personality with zero hesitation whatsoever. Meanwhile, Ahiru manages to pass her stealth check for once.

love how Pike starts doing the Coppelia choreography to indicate her surrender

I think this is the first time Ahiru has turned into Princess Tutu of her own will, without Drosselmeyer saying her name first

the music is WAY too upbeat and cheerful for this scene, lol

Tutu: please don't join a cult, it's not worth it, I promise

Pike: lol, okay *passes out*

Mytho is just really not having a good time with this, poor kid, being possessed by your worst enemy has got to suck even without the prospect of literal and metaphorical cannibalism

then Ahiru has to deal with TWO people passed out in the town square, good thing she can use Tutu's magic to cover it

Pike (waking up): Where… am I?

Lilie (with a tray): Good morning! Ahiru hauled your drunk ass back home after beating you to a pulp first!

Pike: Well, I don't know about that bit, but I sure was drunk… on love or something. What the hell was I thinking letting an older man lure me into isolated secondary locations even if he was hot and mysterious?

meanwhile, Fakir got suspended and is going home to Charon's place for brooding and serious research.

Fakir: Well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions come back to haunt me. But it's fine, I don't care (he said caringly through gritted teeth).

(if that last sentence doesn't sum up Fakir's character, I don't know what does)

[transthadymacdermot]

(Detail from James Gillray's political cartoon Evidence to Character: being a Portrait of a Traitor by His Friends and by Himself)

Wip intro: Eight Grams of Gold

Genre: historical fiction, courtroom drama, elements of cosmic horror

Progress: 1st draft

POV: 3rd person limited

Setting: 1795 - 1796 in Ireland + some scenes in England and France

Content warnings: gore / death / abuse / a variety of place-and-time-typical forms of bigotry / cannibalism / etc

Things have not improved for the RRL characters. A stolen shipment of guns, a dead landlord, and now a bizarre personal feud sparked by one man giving another a guinea, which spirals out of control into an esoteric legal battle which threatens to consume everyone and everything. And of course, in the mean time, the spectre of rebellion is looming, and as it is now the year 1796, the clock is slowly counting down.

First, there is Sarah Connolly, a peasant woman, whose son, Frederick, stabs and kills the landlord during the family's eviction. Seeking preservation above all, she sells the body to the innkeeper at the local Essex Arms inn, and washes her hands of the business, content to not ask questions about what innkeeper Lazarus McClure, whose mental stability has been going steadily downhill since the conclusion of the last story, will do with the body and content that she and her family will be safe under their roof for at least another quarter. That is, until it comes out that the Englishman who was meant to inherit his wealth, Charles Nathaniel Maurice Irving-Hamilton, 4th Viscount of Drenning, was recently disinherited in a fit of rage on the part of the man who Frederick stabbed. And the man who will now inherit is a mere bookbinder, a nobody, a tradesman, who infamous aristocratic spymaster Lady Maria Whittaker is incensed to discover will soon be on the same social level as her if he is allowed to acquire the land and the title that would have been Charles' -- who is a bad inheritor, but a suitably titled one.

Whittaker digs up a will. It would seem that the title once came with a lot more land, was severed from it quite by accident in the 1740s, and should, following rather the spirit of the law than the letter, belong to the brother-in-law of the object of Whittaker's very mutual unhinged psychosexual obsession, William Rearden. It isn't too difficult to convince this brother-in-law to contest it. Everyone wants to be a lord, after all. Only, the man who is now a lord refuses to give Whittaker's puppet a thing -- save for a single guinea, handed to him outside church one day as a deliberate mocking gesture. And what's worse, Rearden, who despises his brother-in-law, told him to do it.

AKA: now that I've lured u in with a story about gun-running I will make you listen to me talk about the 18th century Irish legal system for a billion million words ❤️

Ask to be +/- from the taglist!!!

Main Characters

Anthony Franklin -- (he/him) a man of science and lover of liberty from Scotland. A genial family man who loves his friends and chafes at all forms of authority.

Lady Maria Anne Whittaker -- (she/her) a Jacobite-descended Englishwoman whose job it is to get supplies to France, no matter who has to die for it. Loves, apart from herself, her sister.

Eoin O'Donnell -- (he/him) a Defender leader, now on the run from the law. Considered "odd" and "not right" but liked for being very good at terrorism. Has a terminal case of Catholic guilt.

Sarah Connolly -- (she/her) an Irish Catholic peasant woman trapped in an unhappy relationship. Blames herself for a lot but blames other people for more and someday that's going to end very badly for them.

Frederick Craig -- (he/him) Sarah's 11 year old adopted son, recently hired as a drummer boy for the local regiment. Holds a confused ball of resentment within his chest. Has strange dreams.

Annie Craig -- (she/her) Sarah's 12 year old adopted daughter. Considered a touch odd but liked well enough. Determined to find some justice in the situation she finds herself in.

Charles Irving-Hamilton -- (he/him) a worthless Englishman who did not even want to come to Ireland for his uncle's funeral. But he is willing to stay if he can get some entertainment out of ruining this legal battle.

Lady Eliza Durham -- (she/her) a scheming landlady. Has been playing this game a long, long time, long enough to be sure of her ability to best anyone else on this list.

Edward "Lazarus" McClure -- (he/him) a resentment-filled, Derry-born, oak branch-wearing, sham-fighting inn owner. Loves his current fling and Winstanley; hates his father and the law.

Francis "Frank" Borden, Gerald O'Neill -- the new inheritor and Rearden's brother-in-law, respectively.

[marinerainbow]

//OK OK HEAR. ME. OUT.

In a Mermaid!AU the Toon Patrol would be Eels.

Slender, slippery, mischeavious, formiddable, sharp-toothed, creepy-cute and powerful hunters!

Roger and Poppy are of course...rabbit fish! 😂

GIRL, YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME, NOT WHILE I'M OBBSESSING OVER DRAGONS RIGHT NOW! /Joking of course XD

Mermaids are actually one of my favorite mythological creatures, so this is getting me right in the heart (honestly I love half human half anything. Naga's, centaurs, etc. There's just some kind of appeal to them XD). I also love marine life! Even though I'm no expert XD actually you know what? Here. Here are what I think the eels and rabbitfish tails these guys would have

Poppy would be the Gold-Spotted Rabbitfish. As opposed to Roger, who is a Virgate Rabbitfish, her colors are more subdued/soft. And kind of darker. Whereas Roger's coloring sort of looks clown like, alluding to his comedic nature.

Also, what if Jessica's fish half was a Lionfish? Absolutely stunning, but extremely deadly too?

Now for the weasels. I'm mainly going for the coloring here, not the species. If I was going for the species, the electric eel would absolutely be Psycho XD but anyways-

Smartass is a Conger Eel. They look small and cute, right? Well guess what. They're viscious little cannibals. So that can fit with Smartass' small and colorful looks yet viscious personality. Ohh what if Smartass in this AU wore a pearl necklace instead of diamonds?

(Ok but seriously, look at that face!! It's so cute!!!)

Greasy is a Green Moray Eel. Because... Green XD though he should have some black spots too. Also that head/back fin can represent Greasy's long hair

Wheezy is an African Longfin Conger Eel. Just look at the pattern! It kind of looks ashy/smokey, doesn't it?

Psycho would be the striped Moray Eel in the top right corner. The pattern looks fitting for Psycho. Also, can we acknowledge this Eels expression? Just... That's Psycho. Those faces are Psycho. The bottom picture especially is him screeching when someone tries to disturb his blanket fort time XD

Stupid is the Giant Moray Eel. Cause they are both big boys and also share expressions of constant confusion XD

Of course, there are no doubt better eels that fit them. Or we could easily make up our own coloring and eel-like design for them since they are mythological creatures! What do you think? What kind of fish would Kitty be?

[youngerfrankenstein]

Sooooooooo I may have been watching Hannibal again. And making notes. (Okay I only started actually making notes around Entrée.)

Episodes 1-3

Definitely the episodes I’m most familiar with. Think I’ve seen them the most.

They struck gold getting Hugh Dancy for that role quite frankly

GOD Hannibal comforting the mother of the girl HE MURDERED

Just HOW much Hannibal’s interactions with Abigail are like, carefully affectionate blackmail

In all honesty I’m still not sure whether I think he ever grew to care for her. Perhaps but, in the same way as a prize pig. It’s still a pig

And part of me wonders how much of Abigail was actually left when he killed her. How much was consumed by two men who claimed to love her

Abigail in general is a fascinating tragedy to me

Will is, I think, a person who both desperately wants to and is terrified of being a father

Oeuf

This episode is actually so fucking good

Something about how one of the first things Abigail does in Hannibal’s house is break a teacup

Jack in his Morpheus getup lol

The obvious parallels this episode are Hannibal pulling a very similar thing with Abigail as “Wendy” is with the boys and I think it’s well done

Also “found” family as horror :)

No Will! Don’t let the dogs become comfortable with him!!! Also the frame-up begins

Coquilles

Man the Jack and Bella storyline is heartbreaking. And really well done

The scene where the lady is talking about how her husband was pulling away and he’s figuring it all out…

The bit of lighting that makes it look like Will has a halo chef’s kiss

Due to the weird “preternatural or not?” tendency of the show… I wonder if the angel maker did become an angel. If he was really there to help/warn Will

“I can give you the majesty of your becoming” vibrates

Note to self: Look more into Scapegoat practice

But really there probably is something to be said for Will semi-literally taking on the sins of humanity to save lives

Also note to self: Read “The Marriage of Heaven and Hell” because I think Blake’s weird musings may have inspired more of the whole franchise than the obvious

Entrée

Abel Gideon :) He’s an addition to the cast I really enjoy

“Don’t worry I won’t leave you here” Making promises you can’t keep Jack?

I actually kinda love Chilton. He fucking sucks

I should watch/read Silence of the Lambs again…

Even if the case here is based off the pre-canon Red Dragon one

The series has so much love for and so many references to the source material while adding and tweaking so much and I appreciate it to hell and back

God he’s so fucking despicable… just to see what happens…

Sorbet

Did not need to see a glottis up close

AUNT VIVIAN!!! :D (Well, Ellen Greene)

Franklin is supposed to be like, reminiscent of the guy who’s head gets found in a jar in SotL right? I remember that being my takeaway when I first watched the show and I still think that. Even if the book is far less fresh in my mind

First Bedelia appearance

The fact it’s confirmed later he was putting human organs in the beer. What the fuck

Alanna makes me sad… in a lot of ways another example of Hannibal corrupting everything he touches

“And I sincerely hope he does” The wild thing is I think that may be the truth. Yeah he’ll kill Will if he figures it out but he does want to watch Will do just that

Oh Jack… yes. You will kill him

Hannibal’s “grocery shopping” montage will never not be funny

As will “ugh, stop, you’re just my patient” vs. the epic mope when Will doesn’t show up

Will starting to put the pieces together but his brain is too on fire to make them fit

Cannibal puns <3

[raven-starlight]

I fell in love with you in the summer. 

It was hot and dry and my lips cracked and bled every time I smiled. You made me smile a lot. I like to think it was a metaphor. You made me taste death every time I laughed. Or maybe life. I could never distinguish the two with you. 

Anyway. I dreamed of you, sometimes. You made me laugh and my lips would crack and bleed and you would lean over and kiss me. My friend said it means I desired intimacy but that the blood meant I was scared. She was into Freudian dream analysis. I never liked him, anyway. 

I guess she wasn’t wrong though. I dreamed about you more than I’d like to admit. In my dreams, you were poetry. In my poetry, you were the dream of you. I laughed and my lips bled and you kissed me and I tasted death. Sometimes you wouldn’t stop at kissing me. Sometimes you would keep kissing me, keep swallowing me, keep consuming me until you’d devoured me entirely. 

“Cannibalism as a metaphor for love,” I’d once said. “What do you think?” 

You’d made a face. “I think it’s gruesome. Romanticizes weird things, you know? Like those people who defend the serial killers ‘cause they think they’re hot.” 

I didn’t tell you that sometimes, I dreamed that I bared my neck for you, and that you’d torn it apart, my heart between your teeth. A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism. 

Anyway. It was summer and school was over and everything was golden. When the light hit your eyes right they looked golden. Sometimes they were dark, a soft brown like the piano I tried to teach you to play on and the damp earth after the summer storm. Sometimes they were blue like the sky or the sea and I was suffocating, drowning. When they were gold, they were like amber, sweet-sticky-thick, trapping me. Everything looked golden when you looked at me like that. I didn’t protest so long as you kept looking at me like that. 

It was your birthday yesterday. I wish I didn’t remember. I wish I didn’t text you even though you hadn’t talked to me in months. “Hey. Happy birthday.” It’s dinner time and my mom yells at me because I keep checking my phone. You text me the next day. “Thanks.” I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved or angry. I bite my lip. It’s bleeding again. “No problem.” 

You don’t reply. 

Anyway. I quit piano. I look into my father’s eyes and see you. Blue eyes that make me feel like I’m dying. “Oedipus complex,” my friend says knowingly. “You go after the familiar.” Sometimes I wish I didn’t remember your birthday. You didn’t remember mine. My father didn’t remember my mother’s, but he bought a girl a multi-hundred dollar gift for her birthday. She was closer to my age than his. You sent me a picture of yourself shirtless. My father sent a nude to her. I dated a boy just to see what it was like to be wanted. Maybe that’s why my father cheated. Maybe that’s why you kept talking to me like you could love me. It was summer and everything looked golden and I let you keep using me so long you looked at me like you loved me. I don’t know if I am more like my mother or my father. They are both unhappy. It scares me. Who am I?

Anyway. Sometimes I dream that you kiss me and I taste my own blood on your lips. Sorry about that. Sorry about the mess. Sorry that I bleed every time you speak. Sorry that I gave you my mess of a heart. Sorry that I loved you. I’ll keep bleeding for you. Just keep looking at me like that. Just keep telling me you love me. 

I fell in love with you in the summer. My lips cracked and bled every time you made me smile. I like to think it’s a metaphor. Maybe this summer I won’t remember your birthday. Maybe.