#horrible man no good very bad

[wilbyowo]

This is Igor. He is not very friendly.

(Comic under cut)

[the-gotheltic-rowan]

so me and the bestie have been binge-playing re2/re4

[benbamboozled]

Any storyline that states or implies that Jason Todd died because he went after the Joker solo to prove himself IS NO FRIEND OF MINE.

[thefanciestborrower]

The Devouring of Prometheus

Ohh boy this fic has been over a year in the making and by golly am I proud of it. It was mostly an attempt to imitate Mary Shelley’s writing style while adding more classic lit vore into the world cause oh boy do we need it. This fic is a little darker than my usual fluffy stuff because. You know. It’s Frankenstein. But everything is still safe despite what Victor thinks. Anyways, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Warnings: Contains soft, safe, unwilling vore, mentions of digestion, mentions of dying, mentions of cannon character death, minor injury, and vomit

Characters: Victor Frankenstein and the Creature

Word Count: 2,830

Mankind has no greater fear than that of being devoured. It is an instinctual fear, engrained deep within our very beings from the moment we are born, as it is in every living being, and yet it is perhaps one of the most uncommon fears to experience in its true, unaltered form. We are quite familiar with the notion of being killed and eaten by a wild beast, since such a thing, while not terribly common in the more civilized parts of the world, is often talked of in books and by explorers returning from long voyages to strange, wild lands. It is a threat to be sure, but perhaps not the most fear inspiring one. A hungry lion might indeed pounce upon you with his teeth and claws bared as if to shred you to ribbons while you lay awake in agony, but in truth he is far more merciful than even most men and will end you swiftly with a bite to the neck before he ever starts to feed. The fear of being eaten in this way, then, is diluted by the promise of a swift death at the claws of a creature who bore you no more malice than you do a butchered duck. 

The terror of being consumed lies not in the act of consumption, but in the method. Stories full of giants and ogres who devour men whole and alive fill the countryside and take captive the minds of all who hear them, filling their dreams with images of gnashing teeth and slavering mouths, capable of sending a grown man down, kicking and screaming, in a single swallow. I must confess I never heard much of these tales growing up, aside from a few Clerval was so fond of telling, and when they did reach my ears, I simply scoffed, laughing such frightening images away in the clear light of day when nothing could seem more ridiculous. They were children’s tales, I thought, simply meant to frighten and entertain, for nothing, man or beast, could swallow whole a living man. Oh, how I wish I had been right. 

He came for me in the night. I was asleep, or nearly so, when a sudden noise at my window startled me awake. At first I assumed it to be the scratching of a branch or perhaps even some night creature making its rounds through the garden outside. After all, I was far more unfamiliar with the Oxford landscape than my dear friend Clerval, who had spent much of his afternoon exploring the grounds, so I felt there to be no need for concern. Indeed, I had nearly turned over to drift back to sleep when I saw his eyes. Those wretched, sunken, yellow eyes staring as if into my very soul through the dusty window I had neglected to lock in my naivety. I might have screamed had fear not grasped my throat and strangled my voice, and though I longed to run, terror turned my legs to lead and forced me to watch as the fiend pried open the window with a delicate ease that seemed almost laughable compared to the rest of his hulking mass. I pulled my sheet up to shield my chest like a child might, entertaining fantasies that perhaps this was simply a nightmare, and if I remained still in my bed then he would be unable to harm me, but when he began to climb through the window with the elegance of a lion stalking his prey, eyes never once leaving me, panic settled over my heart and I realized this was no mere conjuring of an overworked mind. The beast was here, looming over me in my chambers as I trembled in bed with naught but a thin sheet and even thinner night clothes to protect me. 

“Devil! What do you want from me!” I cried at last, terror loosening her claws from my throat. “I have not forgotten our agreement, so why do you insist on tormenting me so!” 

I received no reply, the beast more than content to simply stare at my trembling form. Perhaps he enjoyed how weak I must have appeared before him as his eyes flicked over me, almost sizing me up for reasons I could never have comprehended in that moment. Cold and yellow as they were, I could see an inkling of some mysterious emotion behind those eyes, but it’s identity I couldn’t say. Nor did I care. My thoughts were quickly preoccupied as he advanced upon me, padding forwards like some great and terrible cat, until he stopped just shy of the side of my bed, so close I could have reached out and touched him. 

Again, I saw that strange emotion flicker behind his dead eyes, but before I had time to ponder it he wrapped his hands around my chest and lifted me from the safety of my bed with terrifying ease, like one might lift a small child or a doll, and while I screamed and writhed in his hideous grasp, his hold only tightened. My ribs creaked and complained under the pressure and my cries became strangled and choked. With a ghastly popping sound he opened his grotesque mouth, jaw hanging at an angle too wide for any human to achieve, and to my upmost horror he quickly stuffed my head inside with the terrifying efficiency of a ravenous beast. The slimy muscle of his tongue lapped against my face and my body convulsed in disgust as I desperately fought not to be sick. Revolting as my situation was, I did not wish to add my own vomit to the mix, even if it might have disgusted the fiend enough to free me. 

I could see nothing but darkness, each desperate gasp for oxygen only supplying me with the barest sliver of foul air. Teeth ringed my neck like a terrible collar, and for a moment I entertained ideas of those teeth, the very same I had picked and sorted by hand, crashing together to sever my head from my body like some terrible executioner. Before my thoughts could spiral much more in this direction, his grip changed and I was suddenly shoved against the slick, fleshy opening of his throat. My blood curdled and, with a sudden, crushing pressure, my head was crammed downwards in the most painful manner which caused me to cry out in despair. My skull felt as though it would shatter, and I screamed a horrible, terrible shriek of agony and terror as my shoulders were crushed down after me, the tight gullet of the beast threatening to break them into splinters. My vision swam, stars of pain and lack of breath sparking and dancing before my eyes, and though no light followed me into my hellish prison, I could still see the blackest pitch wavering at the edge of my vision, threatening to drown me in its inky embrace. For a moment I wished it would, if only to keep me from the terrible suffering I knew lay before me, but fate is a cruel mistress and before I could sink into that comforting ocean of darkness a terrible pressure bloomed upon the crown of my head and forced me into an open pocket of stinking, putrid air. 

Coughing and gaging I struggled to draw even a single breath. My ribs, now horribly compressed, creaked and shuttered terribly under the pressure of the creature’s throat, and though my legs still flailed outside, and my hands desperately scrambled for a hold on what I felt to be his chin, I did not dare move the length of my compressed torso for fear of inflicting more damage upon myself. Another painful swallow jolted me down, my face jamming roughly into what I presumed to be the bottom of the creature’s dreadful stomach, and the grotesque flesh not only yielded to accept my presence, but did so with an almost pleased sounding groan, if stomachs can be pleased, as if I really were simply a morsel of food to be consumed and forgotten. The sound filled my heart with a terror I’ve never known, and I cried out, though my voice was quickly silenced by the slick flesh as more of my body was squeezed through that terrifically tight ring of muscle and forced to bend and twist to fit my new prison like some sort of contortionist. 

I know not how long it took the devil to consume me: the darkness of my surroundings and constant pain dulled my senses and left me disoriented to the point where I no longer could even tell up from down. I remember no longer feeling the cold air on my body after some time, my entire being now encased in sweltering heat, and searing pain as my legs were crushed down against my ribs. Finally, it was all over. My entire body had been fully compacted into the creature’s stomach, and although this new development was arguably a much worse position than my previous one, I was far too preoccupied with gulping down precious lungfuls of oxygen to care.

Then, all at once, the reality of my situation came crashing down upon me and with the fervor of a cornered beast I began to lash out and fight, twisting and turning in the confined space in hopes of causing my captor at least the slightest bit of discomfort. 

“Fiend! Devil! Release me at once!” I panted, gnashing my teeth in fear and anger. “This is no way to treat any man, let alone your maker!”

I had no doubt that he could hear my cries and feel my struggles, confined as I was, and yet no answer came. Despite the nature of my location, I was completely and utterly alone, for what man pays attention to his food after he’s eaten it. Again, I tried to call out, to plead for release as I fought against the smothering flesh, and again I was ignored, save for a light pressure against my back from which I hastily jerked away. It was his hand; I knew it instinctively. The brute was no doubt relaxing after so fine a feast of human flesh, and that touch was nothing more then the satisfied gloating of a predator now sated with a filling meal that would last him far longer than any morsel of bread or wine. I was merely something to be enjoyed, digested, and forgotten.

 How many more, I wondered, would be lost in the same way once I had perished. Clearly my current location indicated my captor had grown fond of the taste of human, and with a heart wrenching shudder I suddenly realized I had no way of knowing wether I was the first victim of the monster’s appetite, or if he had already glutted himself with other gentle country folk, just as he had done to me, and I was now resting in their grave. The thought was too much for my already distraught and troubled soul, and the disgust which filled me suddenly became too overwhelming to sustain. With a thick heave I proceeded to retch onto myself, my sick mixing with the beast’s own bile, and I sobbed bitterly for my home. 

“Oh, my dear mountains and precious lake. Will I truly never again delight in your sweet air and radiant beauty? Am I to perish so far from all that is fair and wholesome, without even the cold stars to bare witness to my demise?” I lamented; my voice thick with the grief of a man who believes he is to die isolated from everything he once held dear. 

The spongy flesh seemed to mute my voice effectively as a heavy curtain might, and my words fell upon deaf ears, for no reply came from my creation. My captor. My killer. Was I really to meet my end as nothing more than a meal? My last breath tainted by the stench of bile and vomit? The pressure to my back returned, and although the touch revolted me, I was far too exhausted from my fear and the quickly thinning oxygen to do more than twitch in protest. What difference would it make anyways, my fate was already sealed.

Each breath I drew grew more ragged and gasping with every passing second, my panic having done nothing but quickly use up what little air I had in the stale cell, and in some fever, I realized that, although my air was quickly thinning, I had not yet begun to feel the slightest tingle of digestion. Oh, what sweet twist of fate was this! I still would meet my end as nothing more than a morsel of food this was true, but I would be long since unconscious and perhaps even suffocated before acids truly began to work on me and thus spared the sensation of digesting alive. It was a small assurance, but so consumed was I by grief and terror of my fate that even the small mercy of a painless death brought me comfort. It was more than a man like me deserved after all I’d done. The innocent blood on the creature’s hands stained mine as well, and I thought bitterly of poor darling little William and dear Justine. Their blood has been spilt on my account, and yet, while their deaths had been horrific tragedies, I took solace in knowing they had left the world far quicker than I would, and that I would be seeing them again soon.

My vision swam before me, and with one last shuddering sigh I slumped against the slick walls, no longer attempting to catch my breath, for what would be the point in trying to breathe when there is no air left to fill my lungs. The stomach clenched around me with a disgusting squelch, smothering and squeezing my helpless form as it worked to knead what I presumed to be caustic acids into my sodden clothing and soft flesh, preparing for the undoubtably difficult task of liquifying my un-masticated body. With a gasping, barely audible sob I pressed a trembling hand out against my churning prison walls, cursing my creation and praying my end would be swift. Then the darkness engulfed me, and I knew no more.

Due to the circumstances in which I had fallen unconscious I fully expected to never wake again, so when I started awake some unknown amount of time later in the very bed I had been snatched out of, I could seldom comprehend what was happening. My first thought was that my horrendous experience had been naut but a dream; an apparition brought upon me by the dreadful task I knew I would soon be required to complete. Then I became aware of the disgusting film of sticky, foul smelling sick coating my body and the dull, yet throbbing pain in my ribs, and my blood ran cold. It had been no dream. My creation truly had assaulted me in the night, swallowed me whole and alive, and, by some miracle, vomited me back out before his digestive system could process me. In fact, aside from my ribs, which were badly bruised, I appeared whole and unharmed. Not even a drop of acid had singed my clothes, and my skin was fair and unblemished as it had always been. I pressed a hand to my cheek as if to make certain of my unharmed state, and then, to my own surprise, I began to laugh. It was not a mirthful laugh, but rather one of incredulous shock and relief as I grasped at my warm and unharmed skin. So certain had I been that those final moments filled with slimy blackness and foul reeking air inside the creature would be my last that the cold air of my room and the sting of my nails against my face might well have been gifts from Heaven itself. Even now I marvel at my incredible escape and wonder what could possibly have prompted the monster to give up as filling a meal as I surely must have been. I do not think I shall ever know, but judging from the healthy nature which I possessed upon waking, I can only assume he realized he could not process me as he intended and his body expelled me, though wether such an expulsion was voluntary on his part I still could not say. Nonetheless I knew I was no doubt incredibly fortunate to have survived such an encounter and my resolve had the been strengthened. Where before I had postponed my promise, I vowed to not do so again, for who knew how long the wretched beast would be content to wait and leave me and others be. As soon as I was able, I would set to work creating another who would contain his terrible urges and put this dreadful encounter behind me forever. 

[parlerenfleurs]

Starting to think, going by the MXTX fandoms, that a lot of people are comfortable with being a bit terrible and not thriving for an ideal whatsoever, because they really really reeaaally want to believe Xue Yang and Jiang Cheng are poor cuties who weren't lucky and the heroes are a bunch of holier-than-thou arrogant bitches who need to be taken down a peg when the text says the opposite, because then it justifies their own faults and hatred of genuinely awesome people who seem to have it better in life and isn't that sooo unfair and isn't it fair that they should suffer to learn what it's like to suffer like them, poor tortured, petty, flawed humans who see themselves in the villains rather than the heroes.

[lovesickeros]

in the meantime come to horrifying realization there's like zero yan clorinde content so everyone sit down and listen to my ted talk (this is a requirement I have locked the doors and blocked the fire exits)

personally don't think Clorinde leans towards threats to be honest. she'd feel horrible and guilty if she did and I don't think she could handle you hating her or being afraid of her (maybe if you pushed her far enough then maybe she could justify it because she's trying to protect you but you'd really have to push it).

imo? leans more towards following you around with a hint of subtle manipulation behinf the scenes0. even if it's within the confines of the Court of Fontaine and the place is swarming with Gardemeks you can never be too sure. absolutely fumbles the excuse if you catch her though (if)

the epitome of gentleman, too. she "bumps" into you a lot and always offers to help– even if it's just a few small bags she takes them from you to help ease your burden, basically following you around like a lost puppy. it's a lot easier to trust the nice, polite woman who helped you then the stilted, awkward woman desperate for your attention.

her reluctance to threaten you or force you to do anything doesn't extend to people you know, though. she can cook up any manner of crime that'd get them stuck fighting a duel with her or dealing with a trial that'd get them sent straight to the fortress.

of course, the first thing she'd do is make sure you're okay. she still cares about you (and she really doesn't mean to manipulate you, but really, don't you find it odd that everyone around you is so sketchy? you should be more careful about who you trust. you trust her though, dont you?).

clorinde is very much in for the long game, in the end. she'd only kidnap you as a last resort. she'd much prefer slowly getting closer to you and having you come with her of your own free will (even if it's because she's been planting ideas in your head that you really aren't safe all alone like this. all your friends turned out to be criminals, after all, and what if they start to blame you and try to hurt you? it's best that you stay with her for a while)

if you had a lover, though? oh, she's livid. she makes sure to pin an absolutely heinous crime on them– one that would involve you. after all, she could swoop in and play savior after killing that wretched pest. she did save you from their alleged plan, after all.

a bit awkward with physical affection to be honest, but she tries in her own way. she does what she can to make your life easier– protects you, makes sure you have a roof over your head and nice clothes, a bed and warm baths, expensive foods..anything you want, she would get you without even asking.

why would you ever want to leave? don't you know how dangerous it is outside? who would take care of you if not her? she provides you with all you need, and with only the best (please don't leave)

basically your personal guard dog. she won't bite if you just listen to her and stay put.

and she's just absolutely smitten. careful if you actually use her gifts, because she'll think you're reciprocating her affection whether you are or not. you'll be drowning in new clothes, always trying need food..and she'll always be hovering over your shoulder, watching.

[radio-ghost-cooks]

episode 2 here we go

i'm kinda shocked Stan is legally allowed to drive. wait what if he isn't and he's just using Ford's license

awwww poor McGucket. he might be a crazy old man but he's a SMART crazy old man :[ he doesn't deserve to be laughed at

(it occurs to me now that the reason i'm already sympathizing with Dipper + McGucket so much is bc i also suffer from People Don't Believe Me Even When I'm Right-itus)

OH MY FUCKING GODS IT'S THE STAN'O WAR OH MY GODS *loud sobbing*

how dare they just leave Grunkle Stan in the Stan O' War like that! they could've at least wrestled him into Soos's boat with them

i'm so convinced McGucket didn't actually go crazy. i mean if he still has enough sense in his skull to construct a 20-foot mecha-Nessie he's still the genius who worked with Ford. i just think he forgot all the dignified stuff and reverted to Farm Boy Logic

[lord-squiggletits]

Part of why I hate this fandom's take on Autobots vs Decepticons is ppl (mainly 'con fans honestly) who can't have any nuance of the situation whatsoever and love to write plots like "oh the humans are racist and abusive towards Cybertronians so this is how Megatron is right" no actually I don't think colonialism/imperialism and racism are justified so long as you can point the finger and say "they were the aggressors first" or "their hands are no cleaner than ours bc their society sucks too" sorry. Please come up with better sociopolitical narratives in your war story.

[dykealloy]

This guy's L to W ratio is a solid 5:1 rn

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

this post got me to go find a recording of devin's voicelines and god. they truly go so hard. the best part of them to me isn't even the long speech to godwyn/fia but the part AFTER when you actually interact with him. the fucking. audible smile in his voice when he says "hello! the rotten witch is dead :) " the way it borders on an almost delirious giggle. the whole thing is like, the va did such a good job selling the simultaneous grief and rage and disgust and vindictive joy it's sooo delicious to me. they could never make me hate you devin you will always be iconic in my heart

[storywestistrash]

i am actually so tired of the way westerners treat eastern europeans

[the-real-couchrat]

So I’ve been thinking more about the Geminus AU, Henry’s No Good Very Bad Terrible Horrible Day AU (HNGVBTHD AU) , and the Atlantica AU. Specifically their mindscapes and nightmares.

Geminus AU

I’m imagining Ford’s mindscape to be like a vast starscape, with floating structures like observatories, library shelves (that are definitely full of books that would make a human’s eyes melt out of their skull if they ever tried to read them) debris of failed experiments, ect. His nightmares (now called the Parliament) would be owls, and they would perch on the structures and fly between them very majestically. They have a tendency to resemble moths. (the nightmares were very inspired by @jacobsnicket’s Pollux design and commentary)

Henry’s No Good Very Bad Terrible Horrible Day AU

For Henry’s, I’m convinced that his mindscape would be a never-ending forest, made up of every kind of forest biome to have ever existed. The Menagerie (let me know if you have other name ideas for their group) would be massive in numbers, appearing as the animals that would inhabit the forests his mindscape imitates. There’s no order to what animals the dreams and nightmares take the form of, a dream could be a bear cub, and a nightmare could be a shrew. (Their numbers are so huge because of Henry’s whole “protector”thing in tau canon, with the woodsman and all. It might even get to the point where when a new nightmare or dream forms they go straight to him like instinct.) Alternatively it could just be a forest that you’d see in Oregon, with the nightmares as deer and cute little fawns for dreams. They would be called the Herd.

Atlantica AU

Pacifica’s mindscape would be a kelp forest, with her nightmares manifesting as spooky sea creatures, like sharks, Eels, Anglerfish, Giant squid, Lionfish, Stingrays, Moray eels, Goblin sharks, Vampire squids, stingrays, manta rays, and Jellyfish. (At first I chose a kelp forest because of how spooky and unsettling they are. but then I looked up pictures of kelp forests to refresh my memory, and it turns out that they’re quite pretty, and all my memories of them were from the Finding Dory movie.) The dreams would be cute fish or a baby version of the nightmare forms.

Titles

While making this post, I did a bit of research on what different groups of animals are called, so here’s a list I made for myself and anyone else who can’t remember all this stuff.

(Equivalence AU, Mabel’s pigs hogs ) “The Drove”

(Avarice AU, Stan’s dogs) “The Pack”

(Geminus AU, Ford’s owls) “The Parliament”

(Atlantica AU, Pacifica’s various sea creatures) “The Shoal”

(Henry’s No Good Very Bad Terrible Horrible Day AU, Henry’s animals) “The Menagerie”

(Henry’s No Good Very Bad Terrible Horrible Day AU, Henry’s deer) “The Herd”

@transcendence-au I would love to hear your thoughts on this!

(Also what is Henry’s demon alias? Is it still the woodsman? I thought like he was only called that because he lived in the woods. And what does he look like as a demon? I know he has antlers, and probably has hands dangling from them, but I feel like his full “Woodsman form” from TAU canon would be his super-saiyan form.)

Edit:

MABEL WOULD TOTALLY HAVE FLYING PIGS!!

THE NIGHTMARES WOYLD HAVE BAT WINGS AND THE DREAMS WOULD HAVE BIRD WINGS

Edit #2

I just remembered that Henry’s TAU alias is Sarva, so it’s probably that.

[rocketbirdie]

.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

just finished el mundo gira and i thought it was like. comically bad. sorry to any el mundo gira stans, but tomorrow's writeup will have some hater energy.

[quintessential-candles]

KEVIN DAY BIRTHDAY :0

[i-have-read-homestuck]

Homestuck is genuinely so good. Whatever your problems are, there's a Homestuck character you can relate to. Feel like everything is pointless and you just want to destroy everything to fix it? Feel incredibly lonely and want to act happy but everything's falling apart? Feel like you're cracked and splintered and simultaneously inescapable? And that's without the complex relationships. Uneven relationships where you really like someone but all they do is hurt you (you know they like you too), unrequited crushes where you can't help but be a burden, people you've known for forever who understand you more than anybody in the world, yet you somehow grew apart (you never got over them), wanting to take care of your friends yet not knowing how... man. When it comes to being a confused teen trying to manage yourself and your relationships, Homestuck hits the nail on the head in a billion different ways.