#i'm just trying to recover from two hours of cannibalism

[tadaxii-i]

"James Sirius Potter. You were named after my father, my godfather, and the two people Regulus Black loved the most." Harry smoothed a hand over his son's hair. "You will do great things, my love. Great thing"

[rphelperblog]

Rainbow Rowell Quote Rp Meme

Part one-inspired by the lovely @pinkvenoms​ and @somebrokenfate​ based on the critically aclaimed and new york times best selling author’s book quotes- the queen of contemporary- feel free to edit quotes or change pronouns for rp purposes

“Nothing before you counts, and I can't even imagine an after." 

“You were the sun, and I was crashing into you.” 

“Every woman wants a man who'll fall in love with her soul as well as her body.” 

“I didn't know love could leave the lights on all the time.” 

“I’d know you in the dark, from a thousand miles away. There’s nothing you could become that I haven’t already fallen in love with.” 

“I don’t just kiss people. Kisses aren’t... just with me.” 

“There are moments when you can't believe something wonderful is happening. And there are moments when your entire consciousness is filled with knowing absolutely that something wonderful is happening.”

“You give away nice like it doesn't cost you anything.” 

"I don't think I even breathe when we're not together, which means, when I see you on Monday morning, it's been like sixty hours since I've taken a breath. That's probably why I'm so crabby, and why I snap at you. All I do when we're apart is think about you, and all I do when we're together is panic. Because every second feels so important. And because I'm so out of control, I can't help myself. I'm not even mine anymore, I'm yours, and what if you decide that you don't want me? How could you want me like I want you?"

“I want someone whose heart is big enough to hold me.” 

“You saved me life. Not forever, not for good. Probably just temporarily. But you saved my life, and now I'm yours. The me that's me right now is yours. Always.”

“My girlfriend is sad and quiet and keeps me up all night worrying about her.” 

I want to be with you all the time. You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met, and the funniest, and everything you do surprises me. And I wish I could say that those are the reasons I like you, because that would make me sound like a really evolved human being …‘But I think it’s got as much to do with your hair being red and your hands being soft … and the fact that you smell like homemade birthday cake” 

“You have to pretend you get an endgame. You have to carry on like you will; otherwise, you can't carry on at all.” 

“You’re never going to find a guy who’s exactly like you—first of all, because that guy never leaves his dorm room.” 

“I choose you over everyone.” 

“Real life was something happening in her peripheral vision.” 

“Happily ever after, or even just together ever after, is not cheesy. It’s the noblest, like, the most courageous thing two people can shoot for.” 

“I just want to break that song into pieces and love them all to death.” 

“Underneath this veneer of slightly crazy and mildly socially retarded, I'm a complete disaster.” 

"I don't want to be your friend, I like that we're not friends."

"I just meant that... I want to be the last person who ever kisses you, too.... That sounds bad, like a death threat or something. What I'm trying to say is, you're it. This is it for me.

“You can be Han Solo, and I'll be Boba Fett. I'll cross the sky for you.” 

“He made her feel like more than the sum of her parts.” 

“Because I'm the kind of girl who fantasizes about being trapped in a library overnight.” 

“I love you more than I hate everything else.” 

“I want everyone to meet you. You're my favorite person of all time.” 

“Holding her hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like holding something complete, and completely alive.”

"I don't have to know, I'm rooting for you.” 

“..I love your name. I don't want to cheat myself out of a single syllable.” 

"And you look like a protagonist. You look like the person who wins in the end. You're so pretty, and so good. You have magic eyes, and you make me feel like a cannibal."

“Smiling is confusing, she thought. This is why I don’t do it.” 

“That's the ultimate kind of broken. The kind of damage you never recover from.” 

But it’s not you. You don’t push through every moment. You pay attention. You take everything in. I like that about you—I like that better.”

“You look so blindingly cute right now, I feel like I need to make a pinhole in a piece of paper just to look at you.” 

"You know that I'm falling in love with you, right?” 

“He smiles, and he's made of trouble.” 

She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.”

“How do you not like the Internet? That's like saying, 'I don't like things that are convenient. And easy. I don't like having access to all of mankind's recorded discoveries at my fingertips. I don't like light. And knowledge.” 

“But you're so helpless sometimes. It's like watching a kitten with its head trapped in a Kleenex box.” 

“That moment,when you realize that a guy's looking at you differently—that you're taking up more space in his field of vision. That moment when you know he can't see past you anymore.” 

“I don’t trust anybody. Not anybody. And the more that I care about someone, the more sure I am they’re going to get tired of me and take off.” 

“I don't want to do anything. I don't even want to start this day because then I'll just be expected to finish it.” 

“She felt like she was swimming in words. Drowning in them, sometimes.” 

“You can’t take back texts. If you come off all moody and melancholy in a text, it just sits there in your phone, reminding you of what a drag you are.” 

“Nobody's lives just fit together. Fitting together is something you work at. It's something you make happen - because you love each other.” 

“It was the nicest thing she could imagine. It made her want to have his babies and give him both of her kidneys.” 

“It's the good things that hurt when you're missing them.” 

“The first time he'd held her hand, it felt so good that it crowded out all the bad things. It felt better than anything had ever hurt.” 

“To really be a nerd, she'd decided, you had to prefer fictional worlds to the real one.” 

“If you can’t save your own life, is it even worth saving?” 

“What are the chances you’d ever meet someone like that? he wondered. Someone you could love forever, someone who would forever love you back? And what did you do when that person was born half a world away? The math seemed impossible.” 

“In new situations, all the trickiest rules are the ones nobody bothers to explain to you. (And the ones you can't Google.)” 

“I’m not really a book person.”

"I love your glasses. I especially love the moment when you take them off.” 

“I’d rather be broken, not wasted.”

‘Life’s a bastard.” 

"Don't get so hung up on gender roles,"

"You're not the Han Solo in this relationship, you know."

“Sharing a room with the person you want most is like sharing a room with an open fire.”

“That might be the most idiotic thing you’ve ever said to me”

“Just... isn't giving up allowed sometimes? Isn't it okay to say, ‘This really hurts, so I’m going to stop trying’?”

“it’s not the time. it’s the distance.”

“You were the sun, and I was crashing into you. I'd wake up every morning and think, 'This will end in flames.” 

And I'm hopelessly in love with him.”

“It’s just... everything. There are too many people. And I don’t fit in. I don’t know how to be. Nothing that I’m good at is the sort of thing that matters there. Being smart doesn't matter—and being good with words. And when those things do matter, it’s only because people want something from me. Not because they want me.” 

“Can't you just like a girl who likes you back?'

'None of them likes me back. I may as well like the one I really want.” 

“For a moment—not even a moment, a split second—I imagine him saying, 'The truth is, I'm desperately attracted to you.' And then I imagine myself spitting in his face. And then I imagine licking it off his cheek and kissing him. (Because I'm disturbed. Ask anyone.)” 

“There are other people on the Internet. It's awesome. You get all the benefits of 'other people' without the body odor and the eye contact.” 

“And because I’m so out of control, I can’t help myself. I’m not even mine anymore, I’m yours, and what if you decide that you don’t want me? How could you want me like I want you?” 

[imaginepirates]

Belonging

For @wxntersouljapods. The reader is a stowaway who gets caught by the crew. Jack allows them to stay, but gives them the offer to leave and make a life for themselves somewhere else.

@bonjour-frens @tesserphantom @ilikebritsandbands

~3100 words

~~~~~~~

           Your breathing sounded too loud in your ears. Footsteps echoed in the open room, and gruff voices filled most of the space. They couldn't hear you. They didn't know you were there. 

           You heard someone pull the top off of a barrel. Your eyes were open, but useless; everything was pitch black to you. You hoped your barrel was far enough in the back that nobody would check it. All these men were looking for was a snack or a drink, right?

           You were willing to bet that pirates didn't routinely check through their food stores. What should have been a barrel full of dried meat did not, in fact, contain any. It contained live meat, and that live meat was you. You knew how hungry sailors could get at sea, and hoped that if you were found, they wouldn't opt for cannibalism. 

           You were a stowaway. Running away from an abusive household and an empty life in Tortuga, you'd stashed yourself on the most promising ship. It was a huge but graceful vessel with black sails and made of dark wood. You figured that none of your family would follow you onto a ship with such a reputation. 

           You knew the ship well; it stopped in Tortuga every few months, restocking its provisions and entertaining the men on board. You had a feeling it could suck any other city dry of rum. 

           All the poor children went out to watch it dock and depart. Dark legends surrounded the vessel. Supposedly, it had been captained by ghosts once. Some said it still was. There was a rumor that it had been recovered from the depths by means of witchcraft after having been burned. The tales ranged from horrifying to ridiculous. 

           You were more than willing to lead a more exciting life, one away from home. You loved stories of adventure, and now you were finally in one. Admittedly, it was less action-packed than you figured your first adventure would be. In all truth, it was a little scary. 

           Every night, when no light entered the hull, you slipped out of your barrel with nothing to see by. You opened other barrels, feeling around inside them for what they held. You took as much food as you thought you'd need the next day. Then, you returned to your crate, trying to find a comfortable position. 

           The days were boring. You had nothing to do, and you couldn't move. It was hard enough to live in a small house, but when confined to a barrel, life was dismal. 

           You passed your time by sleeping. It was the only thing you could do besides worrying incessantly, and at least you couldn't feel your discomfort while asleep. 

           The dull thud of another barrel top being shoved to the floor reminded you that you weren't alone. The shuffling of feet was, inch by inch, getting closer. If the pirates got any nearer, you feared they would find you. You didn't want to know what would happen if they did. 

           You'd played the scenario out in your head a hundred times. Your brain came up with all sorts of awful things that could happen to you. You could be killed, or raped, or strung up from a mast and left to swing upside down from your ankles. All were unsavory options. 

           You held your breath. Someone was standing right next to you, and you imagined them reaching out to take the lid off your barrel. You could practically see it. You tried convincing yourself that he was faced in the other direction. It didn't work; fear won out. 

           You sat completely still for a few minutes while the men talked amongst themselves. You sent out silent prayers, but could hardly concentrate over the fear gripping your chest. 

           Just as you were convincing yourself to relax, light blinded you. You blinked up into the daylight. Shocked faces stared down at you. There were two men hovering over your barrel, and both of them looked confused. Realization dawned on one of their faces. 

           "A stowaway!" He said softly. 

           Your neck craned up at an odd angle to look at them. Fear flooded your chest; you recalled everything you'd heard about this ship and wondered what tortures the crew had in mind for a young girl. 

           Now, there were more people looking at you. You felt like some horror in a curiosity shop. You desperately wanted to escape their gaze, but you were stuck in the middle of them all. You couldn't run; a ship wasn't that big. They'd find you again eventually. 

           "Would you like some help out?" The man's voice was strangely soft. Bending to look at the source, you noticed that it wasn't a man at all. A dark skinned woman stood over you, a floppy hat obscuring her face. She held a hand out to you which you gratefully accepted. 

           Standing in the barrel, you took a look at the people around you. They were certainly an odd mix, but contrary to everything you had been told, they didn't seem frightening in the least. 

           One of them stood no higher than your chest. He looked up at you with squinty eyes. Another man, an older gentleman with a grey beard, stared at her without making a sound. There was the woman, too, who stood with a hand on her hip and lips downturned in a way that said she was slightly inconvenienced. 

           Your feelings of dread were slowly dissipating. The three pirates didn't look like they had the slightest idea what to do with you. You all spent a good while staring at each other, waiting for someone to talk. 

           When you moved to step out of the barrel, they let you. You stretched, and they watched, staying quiet the whole time. 

           Finally, the girl spoke. "We should take her on deck."

           This seemed like a satisfactory conclusion, because the short man awkwardly took your arm. There was no force behind his touch; it was like he was deciding whether or not you were a prisoner. 

           You were escorted up to the deck. At first, nobody noticed you. Slowly, heads turned, and expressions changed from neutral to confused as the crew noticed that you were a stranger. 

           A man in a turban stepped up to you. "Who is this girl?" He asked. 

           The others shrugged, letting you introduce yourself. "I'm Y/N," you said in a little voice. 

           "What are you doing here?"

           "I'm…running away from home."

           There was a moment's pause. "Someone should get Jack," said the man in the turban.  

           "I'm not doing it." This was the woman, and she looked disgusted. "I'm not dealing with him."

           There were murmurs of agreement as people avoided the task. More people were staring at you now, making you feel uncomfortable. Whoever this 'Jack' was, he must be terrifying. The entire crew didn't want to fetch him. 

           "Gibbs!" Someone called. "Go fetch Jack."

           A bewildered looking man with mutton chops gazed out over the crowd. His mouth moved as if he was going to speak, but he turned and headed off towards the back of the ship. 

           "Who's Jack?" You asked timidly. 

           "Our captain," said the woman. "Though a lot of good that does us." Her voice dropped with sarcasm. "Right now, he's asleep and horribly hungover. That's why nobody wants to deal with him. He can be a real pain in the ass."

           "Oh." You thought the captain was supposed to be the terror of the Caribbean seas. 

           "I'm Anamaria." She stuck out her hand, and you took it. "That's Marty," she pointed at the short man, "and that's Mr. Cotton. He's mute; his parrot talks for him."

           You didn't know what to say. You'd already told them your name. It was a peculiar group of people. None of them seemed normal in the slightest. It definitely didn't seem like the crew of horrors you'd heard about. 

           Instead of speaking, you nodded. You were a little dazed that nobody had harmed you. These people seemed…friendly, almost.  

           Motion up ahead caught your attention. A man was staggering about, a bottle still in hand. "Who dares wake me?" He hollered. 

           He definitely wasn't what you'd been expecting. People always talked about captains as if they were big-bellied, loud, cruel men who liked to prey on young girls. This didn't seem to be the case. 

           This man was lean with a wiry build. His voice was loud, but only because he was shouting. You suspected the alcohol wasn't helping the back of his throat. He didn't look cruel; you'd have to find that out for yourself. As for the part about preying on women, you hoped you wouldn't have to discover it the hard way. 

           Judging by the unimpressed looks from the crew, he didn't have any of the rumored traits. He staggered closer and almost fell over. When he'd gotten near enough, you could see how hard he was squinting at your face. 

           "And who," he slurred, "is thissss…thiss wench?" He held onto each 's' like a hissing snake. 

           "A stowaway." Anamaria announced. 

           "A stowa-stow-st… why are you on my ship, lassie?" He turned his attention toward you. 

           "Running away from home, Captain."

           He looked thoughtful. "I'm going back to bed. I'll deal with it when I wake up." With a nod, he stumbled away. 

                                  ~~~~~

           You occupied yourself by sitting on a barrel near the rail of the ship  You watched the crew at work, the rolling ocean, and the door of the captain's cabin. You were wary of when he'd come back out. You were dreading the encounter, really. After all, he had the final say on what to do with you, and he could have you dumped into the ocean. Or stranded on an island. Or used as target practice. 

           Your imagination was at it again. Really, you wished it would leave you alone. It was no use thinking up disastrous situations. You wouldn't know the verdict until he gave it to you himself. 

           The hours wore on into late afternoon. Most of the crew had introduced themselves. They were the least intimidating bunch of people you'd ever met. 

           "What about all the rumors I've heard?" You asked Anamaria. "About this ship?"

           "All true, every last one of them. However, they're outdated. The ship has changed both captain and crew since then."

           "And now?"

           "Now, we sail, searching for mystical items Jack wants to find. We talk with witches. We get into trouble with island tribes. We're the bane of the government because we're a minor nuisance that always slips away from them. Jack is good at avoiding conflict."

           "So, you're mainly just adventurers who call themselves pirates?" 

           "We are pirates," she said defensively. 

           "It doesn't sound like you do much pillaging to me."

           She paused, looking frustrated. "We don't."

           Just then, Jack stepped out of his cabin. He was more steady on his feet, and he scanned the deck for you. Finding you, he sauntered over, looking you up and down with dark eyes. 

           "The stowaway. Does she have a name?" He gave you a pointed look. 

           "Y/N." You introduced yourself for what felt like the thousandth time that morning. 

           "Y/N." He repeated the name a few times, rolling it around on his tongue as if to get used to it. It made you a bit uncomfortable. He was…eccentric. That you could tell already. "It's a good name," he said. 

           "Thank you?"

           "What use can you make of yourself on board my ship?"

           "What?" You'd never even been on a ship before. You couldn't possibly be of any help.  

           "Can you cook? Can you clean? If you can't tell," here, he leaned in a little, wiggling his fingers in your face, "I'm not exactly working with a full crew. It puts some strain on things."

           "Oh." You hadn't thought of that. "I can do both of those things, actually."

           "Wonderful. I'll put you to work right away." He nodded, leaving you to Anamaria's instructions. 

           The days wore on. Not only were people nice, but they were helpful, showing you where things were and how to do certain tasks. They complimented your cooking, saying you could work miracles with the food. It was, after all, dry and preserved. Ships could only carry nonperishable foods. They were never any good. 

           You felt generally accepted by the crew. They didn't sneer, or make fun of you, or ignore you. You were included in all activities. 

           Jack often stood at the helm, providing directions with his compass. He was such an odd man, you didn't see how he could ever be accepted as a captain. It was only when you listened to the stories about him that you understood. 

           Jack took the crew on great adventures. Even if they didn't end in profit, the crew had a good time, and memories were made. 

           A few days in, Jack invited you to dinner in his cabin. There were sniggers from all the crew members, but you accepted his invitation despite your embarrassment. 

           Jack hadn't been able to decide what direction to sail in for days. You thought it curious. Didn't he know where he was going? 

           "I hope this dinner clears up his mind," Anamaria shouted. "I don't want to be stuck drifting aimlessly for too long." 

           There were scoffs, and multiple odd looks, but you tried not to pay attention. Your mind was wandering to what the dinner would be like. You didn't know what to expect. Jack was so strange, anything could happen. 

           You felt bad for a lack of fresh clothes. You'd worn the same outfit for days on end, and you figured you smelled awful. You pulled at your hair to no avail. Clearly, it would have to stay messy. 

           You slipped into his cabin that evening. He let you in with a slight bow, which you found amusing. There was no need to feign propriety around a Tortuga girl. 

           He sat you down at a small table that had been drug to the center of the room. Other unidentifiable objects had been shoved against the walls to make room. You sat on a rickety stool that was missing a leg. The ship suffered from a lack of working objects. 

           The dinner wasn't comprised of anything special. It seemed that Jack ate no better than his crew. He did, however, pull out a nice looking bottle of wine. 

           "Do you plan on getting me drunk?" You asked. 

           "It does make the food taste better," he said. 

           You smiled. You couldn't fathom why Jack had invited you to dinner. You were afraid he was going to drop you off at the next port, and he was telling you it was your time to leave. 

           Instead, he asked about your life before running away. "You said you were running away." He absentmindedly tapped his bread against the table, checking for bugs. "What from?"

           You didn't know how to answer the question. "People," you said. 

           "The authorities?" Now, he looked rather interested. 

           "No." You shifted uncomfortably on the stool, which creaked under you. "From my family."

           In the time you had spent on the ship, not once had Jack looked serious. Now, he was sobered and grim. He nodded. "Sometimes we aren't meant to live at home."

           You wondered at that. It was possible that you truly weren't. What, you asked yourself, had Jack been through that he would know the feeling? 

           "We won't be making port for a while. Tortuga is our usual stop, and I doubt you want to get off there."

           You shook your head. You definitely didn't want to end up back in Tortuga. "Where will we stop?"

           "I make no promises, love. But I suspect somewhere in Spain."

           Spain sounded exciting. The people from home told stories about Spain. "What for?" You asked. There were so many things to see in the world, you realized. 

           "They say the Holy Grail lies there."

           "What do you need that for?"

           His eyes flashed with desire. "Immortality."

           "Sounds lonely," you said. 

           "What do you mean?" His nose twitched. 

           "You'd always be losing people."

           "I'd find some new ones."

           "I don't think that's how it works." You certainly didn't want to outlive your friends. Not that you had any, really, but you'd make some. 

           He cleared his throat. "My point is: will you be leaving us or no, savvy?"

           You considered. You liked the crew, and work wasn't too bad, considering you were given the necessary but easy and menial tasks. "I don't know. I'll make up my mind when we arrive, I suppose."

           "Fair."

           "The crew tells me about all the adventures you've taken them on." You looked at your empty plate, flushing. "I've always wanted to go on adventures. I might stay, just for that. Am I on one now, do you think?"

           He hummed his assent. "And I could take you on lots more, love. Lots more." He leaned in a little, tilting your chin up with a finger. 

           It took all your self-control not to squeak. He was certainly close, and the smirk on his face wasn't helping your embarrassment. 

           The night continued. You chatted idly. You didn't get drunk, but you were pleasantly flushed by the time you decided to leave.

           You turned to go, but Jack set a hand on your shoulder. His expression was serious again, and you tensed. "Family isn't always the people who share your name. Family cares." He gazed into your eyes, unblinking. "We can be your family. This crew."

           "The captain, too?"

           "Him too, love."

           You smiled weakly. "Thank you." You pressed a light kiss to his cheek. You took a moment to gauge his reaction, hoping you hadn't overstepped your place. 

           He turned red, but a smile tugged at his lips. Gently, he cupped the back of your head with a hand, the other resting just below your chin. He smelled- and tasted- like wine when he gave you a slow kiss. 

           "Goodnight, Y/N," he murmured against your lips. 

           "Goodnight, Jack." It was more of a sigh than actual speech.

           Jack decided which direction to travel the next day, but that didn't keep him from asking you to dinner again. And again. After all, he couldn't direct the ship while distracted. 

           You decided to stay. The adventure was appealing, but there were other things, too. You belonged somewhere. You weren't about to give it up. 

[carnoshin]

If you aren't too busy could I get some headcanons for poly stu n bill w a transman (or gender neutral if you prefer!) With an s/o who's highkey interested and helping stu n bill with murder but also may be a cannibal (if you're ok with writing cannibalism if not then I'm sorry-)

I’ll put some transman hcs in the queue for these boys! Cuz there’s a lot to cover for helping kill and cannibalism alone, lmao. Also, this got super long, so it’ll be under a cut~

If you weren’t a killer before you three started dating (or if they don’t know you are one), they’re a bit hesitant about letting you “help” with the killings.

They’ll have you on “call duty” for a couple of kills. At first, you’d call people who weren’t going to die that night– bring up the paranoia factor so they act dumber in the following days, ya know? That’ll escalate to calling people the night of the kill and literal seconds before the kill starts– you’ll be hearing people die on the other end of the call, for sure. If the call is still going after their target is bleeding out, they’ll be like “I’m almost done. Yeah, I’ll see you later at home. Love you, bye.” and it’s actually kind of sweet– both of the boys can get a bit of nerves on kills from the adrenaline, so it helps them settle down to finish everything off cleanly.

To be fair, it really does help Billy and Stu to have an extra hand (or voice) on the phone. Each of them can get alibis for separate nights, they can work together for more effective kills, etc. But it certainly gets boring on your end: you will have to bring it up and be vocal about wanting to go forward, because they know some people can handle the fantasy but not the real thing. Also, Billy really wants to get your first kill “right.” Stu, on the other hand, is more interested in your personal style.

So Stu jumps the gun and brings you with him on a kill (without telling Billy). Since he has an extra pair of hands, he’s going to want to get theatrical for the kill. I imagine he has several different cloaks(?) for the Ghostface costume itself, so you’d be wearing one of his extras as soon as you got near the house– unless you’re a giant like this man (he’s 6′3″, my god) it’s going to be safety-pinned to fit. He also just likes the idea of you wearing his clothes: he’s a sap, what can I say?

You’ll call the victim from the car (parked down the street and around the corner). You can hear him start the kill over the phone, but the phone gets discarded at some point– not hung up, the victim loses it somewhere along the way. He picks it up afterwards and he is winded; usually, you don’t talk to either of the boys until they’re completely done or close to it, already recovered from the workout that is murder. “Yeah, alright… Come on in.”

As soon as you’re inside, he’s just standing a bit away from the body, maybe leaning against the countertop in the kitchen. He just limply motions towards the dead girl on the floor nearby– god knows why the boys always picked the hardest people to kill; she was on the track team at the nearest college, no wonder Stu was so tired. “What now? What do you wanna do with it?” Again, this is sweet in a weird way: Stu is more personal with his kills, so he went out of his way to kill in a fairly common way just for you.

I’d hold off on being like “Well, it’d be such a waste to just leave their body out to rot: let’s eat it.” (Okay, you’d certainly phrase it differently, but still.) Even if you do suggest it, Stu would want to wait until you get a better grasp of killing– I genuinely think he’d be interested in it more than Billy would be.

When you get home, Billy would be. Um. Pissed? For several hours. You’d have to be the one to make him stop sulking, because he tends to be less gentle with Stu than he does you. Then he’d call Stu over: you three would cuddle the rest of the night– Billy in the middle, of course.

After this, you would get more involved with the kills. 

As for a cannibalistic s/o, on a more specific level:

It would be at earliest your fourth solo kill where the boys let you do whatever you want. It is your kill and you do have the hang of it. It’s very, like, weirdly like a parent asking their kid if they want a toy. Billy’s just like. “Well, if you really want to, you can do whatever you want with the body.”

Like I said, Stu is more interested in it than Billy. Billy is convinced he already knows what human meat tastes like, despite never trying it– it’s called longpork for a reason, right? (Eh. Arguably: consistency is like a tough, stringy veal and taste is between veal and pork.) 

Honestly, Billy’s just not open to the experience. He’s convinced he has a motive for every kill he does, compared to you two: Stu does it for fun, you’re still figuring out the “why” (even if you already know, he’d be convinced you were still finding your reasoning for months.)

Stu is interested in it. He wouldn’t casually eat human meat (and he would never eat it uncooked; he’s kind of picky in the first place), but he would be more inclined to eat it after getting back from a kill– it’s a special occasion thing. At first, that is. 

He eventually starts to get cravings for it in the same way one might get a craving for pizza. If there’s not a killing set out for that night, you’ll just move one forward. Stu calls it “going chopping,” which always gets a groan out of Billy.

Catch Billy shaking his head and whining impatiently to the side as Stu and you carve up a body after a kill, even if there’s no reason to rush. He always feels like the three of you will get caught, especially with literally filleting your victim added to the murders.