#monster term

[mr-weirdo-mcgee]

Moinster:

A monster relating to being monachoric but in the way nimona from the movie nimona would. A "monster" being kicked out by humanity and insulted. While rebelling against them all (maybe with acting playful in the process)

[taintandviolent]

sin creeps in ; Nosferatu x Reader

summary: You're plagued by heinous nightmares of a mysterious monster, but you can't help but feel drawn to he who plagues you.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.5K | female reader, monster fucking, vampires, vampire sex, bloodplay, biting, drinking blood / blood loss, mentions of death, making out, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of accents, shadow play (fingering)????.

a/n: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR NOSFERATU 2024! this is just.... listen, I'm not even going to try to justisfy myself. rack up yet another hear me out moment for me. you either understand or you don't. shorter than I wanted it to be, but I needed to get this out and sate my hunger. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

You awake with a strangled gasp, your hands flying to your throat as your breath gradually returns. The nightmares had roused you, as they had every night, but this time, something lingered. Your room was frigid; the gauzy curtains fluttered in front of the open window like misplaced ghosts, allowing the chill of the night to penetrate your quarters. Everything looks terrifying at night; familiar shapes are transformed into horrible spectres, and your very room feels unknown. Unsafe. 

He is here. For the first time in several nights, you weren’t dreaming – he has come for you.

“I know that you are here with me,” you bravely whisper into the emptiness of your own bedroom. The wind whistled, a familiar sound, but something growled – growled in a language you didn’t speak, but understood. The voice was low, gravelly, and heavily accented. 

Hurriedly, you kick the sheets from your legs. The moonlight pales your skin, washing you in its blanch, bluish tone. Gripping your gown with both hands, you gather it up your thighs, exposing them to the cold. The chill of the wind hits your center, and you hiss through your teeth. Your head drops to your chest, and so does your gaze, watching patiently. At the edge of your bed, a large, slender shadow manifests. Him. 

You dare not look up. The feeling of his presence petrifies you, but also arouses you – letting a slick warmth pool deeply between your legs. 

The shadows continue to creep further up your bed, until they reach your feet, which twitch in response. Up, up, up… along your shins. Your skin prickles, and you shiver, doing your best to remain calm. Though he doesn’t touch you, you feel him. You feel every pass of his large hand as it makes its way up your body. His shadow glides over your hip, to your stomach and finally between your plump breasts, coming to a stop over your beating heart. It thumps away like a rabbit’s heart underneath the blackness of his form, and you hear a ragged, strained groan.

Then, with no warning, it moves down, leaving a cold, lifeless chill in its path like a gust of winter wind. You pant, desperately clinging to what breath you have. All at once, the shadow envelopes the soft, warm mound between your legs and your hands fall to the bed, bracing yourself. You have felt his ghostly touches for countless nights, tasting your body as a lover would, but each time your body climbed the peak, the sensations disappeared.  He comes to you in dreams, always leaving you unsatisfied. Your chest heaves in the night, cold droplets of sweat peppering your decollete and breasts. Your hands claw the sheets while you dream, but never reach euphoria.

Tonight, there are new sensations. The phantom wisp of his middle finger runs along the length of your slit. Grazing it. Somehow, you feel his finger part your wet folds, toying with your most sensitive areas. The nonexistent pads of his fingers sweep back and forth over your swelling clit, bringing a spasmodic twitch from each of your muscles. Wanting. Craving. While the sensation lacks the familiar warmth of a living man, it is bountiful with pleasurable feelings – your body responds embarrassingly; your shoulders shudder violently. 

He inhales, a deeply hollow sound. “You desire this… thine own body craves it….” 

The accent seems to fill his entire mouth, rumbling in his throat as he speaks slowly, drawing out each word like an incantation. You let out a plaintive moan, throwing your head back against the pillows, the down feathers crackling underneath you. As though he’s still pleasuring you, your hips writhe back and forth, practically convulsing with need. The shadow of his hand is gone from your body, replaced by the looming darkness of his physical form. After a moment of trepidation, you finally lift your head, and stare into the dark, terrifying eyes that watch you. 

You swallow hard. “I do.” 

A moment passes before you continue. “Take me as you will, for I am yours.” You consent again, desperate to convey your own insatiable hunger, your unimaginable need. 

Another intake of breath from him – it almost sounds labored, painful. His footsteps are dreadful as he moves around to the side of your bed. He’s tall, his form stretching towards the ceilings and towering over you, consuming your atmosphere as he had in your nightmares. His silhouette is large; enhanced by the countless furs he has on.

Weightlessly, his lithe, ghastly fingers reach for you and make contact with your form. They are cold, and the icy feeling of them penetrate the thin fabric of your nightgown. He moves gradually, but hungrily, feeling the curves of your body beneath the cotton. As he moves southward, his fingers skim over the peak of your breast, a nail catching on the swollen nipple. It hurts, but your chest jerks forward still, craving more of his touch. 

Pulling a breathy moan from deep within your throat, his long, sharp nails rake across the tender flesh of your thigh. It’s bathed in the silvery moonlight, which casts horrible, elongated shadows of his fingers down towards your center. He scrapes downward, his middle finger digging into the flesh enough to leave a reddened streak behind, but not so much to break the skin.

“P-please…” you mewl, looking up into his horrifying visage. The sight of him fills you with dread and disgust, but like a single drop of blood in water, it’s tainted with something else, something else that has been lingering in your system for days. 

He’s above you now, though you don’t remember seeing him move atop of you. Still, he’s there. The bed creaks as you push yourself into the mattress, whimpering underneath him. He lowers himself down onto you, the brush of his mustache tickles your face as he lingers above you. A second passes and his waiting mouth envelops yours. He tastes damp and cold, faintly of ash and earth. His tongue slips out and it too is cold, slipping wetly along your own and along your bottom lip. His kiss is dreadful, but possessive, and he inhales each time you exhale, as though he’s trying to suck the very warmth out of you. No man has kissed you the way Count Orlok kisses you, and the chill of the room disappears, snuffed out by the fire that rages in your lower abdomen. 

Your tongues collide with each other; you tasting his lifelessness, and him tasting your utterly intoxicating, vibrant liveliness. For a moment, the two of you stay intertwined at the mouth until he separates himself, smearing his mouth over the warmth of your neck. He hovers, pausing over your pulse. It thrums under his lips, and his hips urge into yours, indicating his hunger.

There is a shuffle, a rustling of clothing. You try to lift your head up to gaze between your bodies, but his hand holds you fast, pressing you against the pillow. The size of his hand is staggering; his palm underneath your chin, while the fingertips extend past your hairline, into the strands. You shudder again and whisper his name. He inhales as though he plans to speak, but doesn’t. 

The front of your nightgown falls apart, revealing your chest to him. With one hand covetously clutching your breast, his mouth opens between your breasts, the slithery coolness of his tongue gliding down along the length of your sternum. As the teeth puncture your flesh, your hands make fists on either side of your body, pulling the sheets into the confines of your palms. He enters you, in more ways than one, and you feel the steady tug of his mouth as he sucks the blood from your veins. Warmth pools in the cave of your stomach.

The fingers of his other hand crawl up your shoulder, and like a quill in ink, he dips the pads of his fingers into the hollow of your chest, coating them in your crimson essence. He smears the blood along your decollete, along the hem of your nightgown, tugging it harshly over your shoulder. The blood coats you in a flash of warmth, and then chill as it meets the cold air. 

His hips rut against yours as he drinks, the pulse of your blood matching the thrust of his hips. An ache starts in your neck, a slow pulling sensation that has your eyelids fluttering. He moves within you, his length penetrating as deeply as his sharpened teeth have. Your release is found amongst blood and groans and that same language which you understand, but do not speak. His tongue scrubs at your soft skin, lapping up the blood as it comes… as you do. 

The darkness is ever-looming, and as your aching cunt ebbs its throbbing, it settles down upon you. You let yourself fall backwards into the abyss, freely. It takes you, wrapping its arms around your tiny frame which is dwarfed by his stature. His mouth breaks free of your bloodied skin with a slick pop.  Into the softness of your skin, you hear him growl, ‘Mine.’ The feeling vibrates against your neck, and your lids flutter shut.

[spookberry]

"cubs and all" 😭😭😭

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

I think you might have been a father to me, once.

You used to be more than just another man who hurt me in my life.

Reference pic!

[yvnziee]

you wouldn’t be anywhere near comprehending my dreams to understand how i got to this point in life—drawing grown warriors—afraid of a platypus—clinging onto princesses

[hauntedorpheum]

they probably haven't said anything because the response video still needs some animations and some edits

[anxiousapplepie]

Last day of the year, and what did I feel like drawing after 2 days of not drawing anything at all? Crossover shenanigans! Courtesy of all the cool stuff @storyboard-sketch has been doing! (and more specifically this snippet of a fic that I've been lightly toasting at the back of my mind like a comforting marshmallow covered in icing sugar) Also figured it was time I tried drawing a werewolf again, and Werewolf!Isa gave me the perfect excuse to do that :3

[ozzgin]

I like the idea of the yokai squad with a darling who's already shorter than average with their peers, so they're just miniscule next to Suma and Kiritsubo. They're all traveling and come across a fruit tree and Suma is ready to pick them but reader is like WAIT. I got this. And climbs him like a jungle gym until they're standing on his shoulders, now high enough to pick fruit

The way you described it immediately made me think of this.

[batcavescolony]

I see a lot of people upset about William Kaplan being dead and no one mourning him cus Billy stole his body and I just don't see it that way. The kid in Wanda Vision is Billy Maximoff, The teenager at the Bar Mitzvah is William Kaplan, the Teen that got taken to the hospital after the wreck is neither and both Billy Maximoff and William Kaplan. That Teen went home with the abilities of Billy Maximoff, to the home of William Kaplan, with memories of neither and lived there for three years. He cares about Rebecca and Jeff, he lied to the to protect them from pain, they are his parents. He wants to find Tommy, he has magical powers, he wants to know who he is. All of these things are true. I wouldn't say William Kaplan is dead he just doesn't remember, like Agatha wasn't dead when he was Agnes, she just didn't remember.

[misasimagines]

graveyard shift / reader x Jiro (Tokyo Debunker)

included characters: Jiro!

rating: NSFW!

warnings: if you are morally opposed to receiving oral sex in a cemetery, then this is not for you. FEM BODIED READER, NOT GN!! Smut beginning is marked with (***) in case you want to read up to that point and stop for whatever reason.

um....anyway [peace sign and i kick my leg up]

“This is where you take me on a date?” You questioned, watching with apprehension as Jiro pushed open the wrought iron gates to the cemetery. The same cemetery you had recently been nearly murdered in by a giant arachne and her ghost cult. It wasn’t ideal and you weren’t feeling the romance, but you would have followed this man into an active volcano you were so whipped so your presence tracked.

He stepped through and turned to look at you. He didn’t look confused, he looked like he always did, but you could read the vibes around him and he was slightly puzzled. “Romeo said it was a popular date site.”

You nodded slowly, “Mhm… And you want to look around for more of those creepy spider eggs, don’t you?”

He nodded politely.

With a sigh, you hopped past the threshold and linked your arm around his, “Fine. But next time, we’re getting boba or something, okay?”

Jiro led you down the path, deeper into the graveyard, “I can’t drink boba.”

You sighed and poked his arm, “I’ll get you a lovely room temperature water.” 

“That would be fine,” he agreed. 

You two strolled around under the watchful eye of the full moon. He searched around graves and trees and came up empty handed each time. In typical Jiro fashion, he didn’t look disappointed, but you could tell his list of “where to find spider anomaly eggs” was growing shorter by the minute. Even if you couldn’t, and didn’t particularly want to, help on that front, you could at least make the rest of the night marginally more enjoyable.

“Do you want to play hide and seek?” You tugged on his arm.

He slowed in his steps and glanced down at you, glasses sliding down his nose, “Why?”

“Could be fun,” you gave him your sweetest smile, even though you knew puppy dog eyes and pouts never worked on him. Whether he agreed to your requests or not depended solely on a list of criteria you had no way of knowing until after the event had occurred. Let's go on a date- okay, but he’s pairing it with his spider egg hunt. Let’s go enjoy the nice weather together- okay, but he’s picking a bunch of weird flowers in Obscuary for one of his experiments. Let’s get boba- okay, well, you weren’t sure yet why he agreed to that one, but you could guess he had something in mind to make it an efficient and productive trip.

How pragmatic he was bothered many people but it didn’t bother you. Truly, it was comforting. He wasn’t easy to read but he was straightforward and reliable. If you ever didn’t know why he had done something, you could just ask and he would tell you. There weren’t several layers of lies and misdirections with him. It was a relief. He was so easy to be around, you thought everyone who felt different was insane.

He considered your offer, looking around the empty cemetery, back towards the gate, and then down at you. “Okay. You can hide first, just don’t go too far,” he finally agreed.

You grinned and gave his arm one last squeeze before shoving him lightly to turn around, “Okay, close your eyes, count to 100, and don’t peak!” You waited until he started counting at 1 and then ran off in the opposite direction of him.

The grass was thick under the soles of your shoes and the cool night air had left every other blade tipped with dew. It splashed up on your bare shins like little sharp pricks of ice. You stopped at a large tombstone and turned to make sure Jiro wasn’t cheating. 

He was, of course, not cheating. He probably felt confident he’d find you easily which is why you ran off as loudly as you could in the direction you did. You felt so mischievous, so evil, as you started off, more quietly, at a hard right angle to your position. He might still see through your ruse, but a ruse it was and you were going to make him work for it. You ran through the grass, around headstones and flower pots and benches and paths, until you came across a section of mausoleums. 

You pushed on the gates of few, all locked, and then eventually found one that was almost temple-like in size. There were not closed doors or gates, just a straight through entrance that you used to creep inside. It was a grand mausoleum by all accounts, but quite old. You gently dusted off an epitaph on the wall and read that it was from the 1700’s. 

Creeping further, you were sure the 100 seconds were up for you, so you found a quiet corner and crouched down, balancing on the balls of your feet. The floor was incredibly dusty, so thick it looked and felt almost like a fuzzy carpet. It muffled your footsteps at least…

Looking around while you waited, you read what you could on the epitaphs, seeing dates all throughout the 1700’s. There were two large rooms placed across from each other, each housing a large stone coffin overlooked by a stained glass window. You couldn’t see these from your current position, but you could see the moonlight, colored in jewel tones, displayed on the ground around the corner.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and it began to dawn on you that you were in a cemetery, currently completely alone. Jiro didn’t know your location and you had, not that long ago, nearly been killed by a ghost cult in this very place. 

God, were you the stupid character who died first in a horror movie?

Something shrieked- no, something scraped the window or something. A tree, probably. The ghosts were all gone and Romeo had headshot the arachne. You were fine.

But why was there a crack in the wall there? It loomed down at you, an empty space where a casket or a body was supposed to be. If it were old, there would have been cobwebs crossing over it, right? So why did it give you a clear look into the pitch black recess? And why, as far as you could tell, was it empty? 

Something scraped again but this time you were sure it was a low, hissing moan. Something from the crypt had crawled out and was lurking, footsteps muffled by the same dust that muffled your own. It was only a matter of time before it came upon you.

Something howled.

You lost your balance, your back hit the wall behind you, and you felt something cold drip down the back of your shirt. 

Immediately, you threw yourself forward and slapped your hand over your neck, rubbing frantically at the chill and uncomfortable sensation. Drip. You watched a bit of water fall from the ceiling, right where you had just been crouching.

Drip. It was just water, right? 

You backed up into the hallway, into the moonlight, and looked at your hand.

Why was it red?

You screamed.

And someone laughed at you.

You spun around on your knees, heart pounding, only to see Jiro standing in the middle of the mausoleum. He was laughing at you, hand raised to cover his mouth as he did so. It was a relief to see him, but you couldn't bite down the embarrassment that filled you at the sight of him.

“Did you try to scare me on purpose?!” You demanded to know.

He offered you a hand to help you up, “I didn't do anything. You chose to run off on your own.” He kept laughing quietly as he pulled you to your feet.

You brushed off your hands on your skirt. There it was. He agreed to hide and seek because you were going to work yourself up, get scared, and then he'd get to laugh at you. You frowned and felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “But you knew this would happen…” 

He was looking at you with a small smile, clearly very entertained, but there was also something more behind it. It made your heart race. Something about how inscrutable he was, how you could never tell with any certainty what was going on in his head, was intoxicating. 

“You brought me to a graveyard because you wanted to see me scared?” You suggested, crossing your arms and leaning against the stone coffin behind you. You still didn't completely trust your knees to not buckle. The air was thick with dust and the scent of mildew and it made your breaths weaker than you'd have liked.

“It's fascinating when you are,” he admitted. “I didn't want to upset you, though. I should apologize.” He took a step closer and your eyes widened when he dropped down to his knees in front of you, hands sliding down from your waist to your hips as he did.

You grasped the edge of the stone sarcophagus. “Jiro! Are you- in a cemetery?” You stammered.

He looked up at you, unaffected, fingers brushing against your thighs, “It's a popular date spot,” he repeated from earlier.

Did he plan this too?

His hands inched up under your skirt, the tips of his fingers at the bottom of your underwear. “Does it bother you?”

Your stomach did flip at the idea. In public and in a cemetery no less… it was still closed by Darkwick so, theoretically, you shouldn't be caught…and he was very persuasive. To you, at least.

He looked so pretty, the stained glass casting colors across his face, illuminating him like he was the one depicted in the window’s scene. His eyes seemed to almost glow in the moonlight, and you would have been lying to say you didn't love to see him on his knees.

“Not enough to say no to you,” you brushed your fingers lightly through his hair in admiration and gently took off his glasses, setting them on the coffin behind you. Your heart thrummed in your chest and you already felt a heat growing between your legs.

(***)

“Then please accept my apology,” he said, hooking a finger under the elastic of your underwear and pulling it down. You stepped out of it and he didn't waste much time letting his head disappear under your skirt.

You felt his breath against your thighs and then his tongue against your slit. He was straight to the point; It was one of the many things you loved about him. He licked up, letting the tip of his tongue drag against your clit. He circled it a few times and you grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling him closer to you.

Jiro lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and pressed his tongue to your entrance. His fingers lightly separated your folds and he sunk his tongue into you while you gripped his hair and tried to keep from collapsing. He ate you out with the same meticulous dedication he had for experiments. You often wondered if you weren't just another one of those and if it would be so bad to let him strap you down to an operating table and just let him do whatever he wanted. The thought made your head spin more than it already was.

You moaned uselessly, trying to keep your mouth closed as if you could hide the depravity you were engaging in. The way his tongue felt inside you and his fingers rubbing your clit took you past any sense and you let out a whine when he curled his tongue against your walls. You leaned back on the cold stone of the tomb and let out a silent apology to those intombed there. Just in case.

He tightened his grip on the leg you had over his shoulder, leaning in closer to you, thrusting his tongue in as deep as it could go. His thumb pressed against your clit, sometimes unmoving until you rolled your hips desperately against him, and then he'd roll it gently until you were shaking.

He kept going until you couldn't even see straight and you let out a warning without much preamble, “Jiro-I-” Your fingers tightened in his hair, grinding his face against you while you came.

He didn't let up until you were weakly trying to shove him away, his touch providing too much stimulation while you were so sensitive. He ran his tongue up your cunt, licking away your juices and letting his tongue flick your clit once more. You squeaked at the feeling.

You relinquished his hair and he stood up, watching you try to control your breathing. There was something so self satisfied in his non-expression, something about how his eyes stayed trained on your parted lips. You ran a hand up his chest, grasping his shirt and tugging him towards you. 

He acquiesced and leaned down to kiss you. It was a slow kiss, slow and tempered. You started parting your lips, your tongue eager to feel his own, but he pulled away when you tried to further it.

You whined instinctively and immediately flushed at your own desperation, “Why?”

“It'll be inconvenient if you can't walk after. I'll take you home first,” he responded bluntly, picking up his glasses and putting them back on.

If your own embarrassing whines and squeaks didn't send a blush across your cheeks, that certainly did. You pulled your underwear back on, now with an uncomfortable, cold, wetness in them and returned to your place hugging his arm. “What a gentleman,” you teased sarcastically.

Jiro agreed with a short hum, beginning to walk with you out of the mausoleum. “Also, there might be someone outside.”

As if on queue, that same scraping/moaning/hissing sound rang out and you shriveled, blood turning cold as you clung to Jiro and ducked your head down. “What?!” You freaked.

He started laughing, “Sorry, there's no one out there. That's just a tree.” If his laugh wasn't so soft and rare to hear and his smile wasn't the cutest thing you could ever hope to imagine, you would have been more upset. As it stood, you gave him a lot of leniency with his teasing. If your scared reactions gave him that much joy, you'd just deal with it until he inevitably gave you a heart attack. At least he'd probably be able to bring you back.

You slapped his arm without force, “Now you're going to have to apologize again,” you pouted at him. 

He directed his smile down at you while you made your way back out to the grass of the graveyard, “I’ll apologize as many times as you want.”

Your heart fluttered and you wondered if needing to walk was so necessary. You leaned your head against his arm and strolled with him back towards the gates to leave. He was so not getting away with just one apology tonight, even if you had already forgiven him.

[mr-weirdo-mcgee]

Monster:

For nonhumans who call themselves a monster in any way, positive, creature, chaotic way. In whatever way. Or if there's any monster kins (I haven't heard of such but hey, maybe).

[justabiteofspite]

I honestly don't get the spawn vs ascended debate when we really should all be coming together to shame those who think it's "unrealistic" that Astarion could fall in love with default dragonborn Durge on account of that Durge "not being attractive."

Like, I'm sorry, but are you fucking high? In what world is Default Durge not peak sex appeal? Big, tall, muscley thicc ass man who can barely run because he's so caked up with a deep, haunted voice struggling to overcome the darkness within himself all while looking like he could bite Cazador's head off in one satisfying crunch? You're telling me Astarion wouldn't be speed running that romance arc to climb him like a tree? Like that wet pathetic cat man looking for protection and attention wouldn't be the president, vice president, and treasurer of the "Top That Nice But Kind of Disturbed Hot Lizard" club?

Get fucking real.

[impish-baby]

The bell tolls once - platonic yandere infection x reader - ❔️

Jonah crashing into your room wasn't how you expected to wake up today. It nearly gives you a heart attack, clumsily throwing your blanket off as he hacks on the floor. The man doesn't respond when you frantically ask if he's ok or kneel beside him, body wracked with a wheezing cough.

He feels like he's burning up as you stroke circles into his back in an attempt to soothe him, a horrible fever no doubt. It's way too high for him not to already be in medical, like his body is cooking itself from the inside out.

You're not strong enough to carry him there, so the only choice is to run and grab someone else from the crew. Sarah is the doctor on board, she'd-

The hand that jolts out to grip your wrist when you attempt to get up is startling, Jonah finally looking at you. He's pale and clammy, face completely wet with tears as his coughs turn into sobs.

"Darling.."

He sounds like he's in pain, in utter agony really. It breaks your heart. Jonah has never been your favorite teammate, but it hurts to see anyone so miserable.

"Please don't leave me..." He trembles, clumsily pulling you into his arms. "I can't die alone... please.."

Nothing you do or say seems to comfort him, he only cries as you start to panic more. Suggesting you go to medical together only agitates him, Jonah cradling you closer to his sweltering body.

"Thieves..." He grits his teeth, "no, no, no... they can't have you too..." The man babbles on incomprehensible, words not making any sense at all.

"Taking..stealing... but not my child.." Jonah nuzzles his face into your hair, "please.. stay... I need you.."

[hellosunnycore]

✦ 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑹𝑬 ✧

[creativitysloyalservant]

i have decided to break my lack of original posting on this blog to bring you my Thoughts on Rot in Paradise. because i played it as soon as i got up this morning and i have scoured for some opinions after finishing it, and now i have my own!!

(and also i posted this on twitter but twitter has such a Shit wordcount that i'm also posting my things here with More Detail)

so! spoilers under the cut, please go and play the game if you haven't. it takes literally an hour (it only took nearly 2 hours for me because i like voice acting by myself and exploring every nook and cranny) and it's also free. so maybe come back into the tag once you're done.

okay, so i noticed quite a number of people being confused and disappointed on the lack of an explanation for the monster. it's brought up in the story as the central thing driving the plot, but it's never explained on what "she" is, why she's compelling people to eat a ton of fish-related food or hell, metal, and why this doesn't impact June at all.

but you know what I think?

i think that that's the point. the focus of rot in paradise isn't supposed to be on the monster.

yeah, it's the thing that pushes the plot along besides June and the gang going on vacation in this island. it's what's causing that uneasiness from the moment that guy grabs June's arm at the drinks, to the sheer unnerving feeling of witnessing people going to the ocean to get Raptured basically. i know i personally felt a chill when i saw that one dude literally eating chains and the other hauling an anchor, as if they're trying to make themselves heavier so they get taken by whatever She is.

but that's not the main point! the main conflict is about June and her friends.

as people have pointed out, this game is about toxic friendships and relationships! it's foreshadowed in the conversation that June has with the gang about her cousin (which i will also get into), and it carries it through the way her friends are horribly warped by this ocean Creature. June goes on a silly little vacation trip with her friends only for them to become so so different from themselves that they lash out at her and even hit her in McCoy's case.

but she still sticks it out with them. through the whole game, even despite their verbal abuse, despite being slapped, despite them being people that she can hardly recognise. she stays with them for the whole game, up until the point where you are given the two options at the very end. and she could still stay with them.

because they're still her friends. she cares about them even if they still hurt her. from the way June still tells Carmen to tell June if she needs anything after Carmen literally tells her to shut up and leave, the way June worries about Vonnie eating seafood even though she continues to stuff herself despite being implied to either hate or make an active choice to not eat seafood, to the way June still trudges out to sea screaming for McCoy to come back to the shore as he wades further in even after he slapped her until her nose bled.

it mirrors the conversation about her cousin, the reason for why June was looking forward to the vacation. that while she did comfort her cousin through all of it, June clearly says that "they were dickheads, and she should have ditched them a long time ago".

but it's funny, isn't it? that June, an outsider to her cousin's friend group, easily sees the pain that her cousin's friends are causing her, and immediately calls it as it is. that her cousin should have left the second they hurt her.

and yet now, when her friends hurt her, even though this was a quick and sudden change that happened in a span of three days, June still sticks around. her friends are dickheads right now, and we can see that in the way they interact with June, but she still stays.

because they're her friends. and how could she just leave them like this if it's something that's causing them to be this way?

so no, i don't think the monster is supposed to be the main picture. we don't need to know what it looks like, or why it needs to do this to the islanders, or how it's even doing it in the first place. it adds to the scariness of the game, as per the Spooktober Game Jam, sure, but that's not the point. might be a bit disappointing to some, but that's not the point.

the point is about June, and the choice that she needs to make at the end of the game.

it's a choice on whether she chooses to be pulled deeper into the tides and be with the friends who hurt her and will continue to hurt her in this way,

or to leave them to their fates, whether deserved or not, and resurface to a world where she's alone without her friends.

and even though the first choice hurts much more in the long run, doesn't the second hurt even more in the moment? knowing that you're alone at the end of all of this?

even if it is the right choice, i'm sure the pain must be unbearable in the moment.

[pressureplus]

HEYA HELLO HI

first, i want to genuinely thank you guys for the account's existence and your hard work. reading through the posts is often the highlight of my bleak days, and im immensely grateful for you providing those moments of joy :]

SECOND UH ID LIKE TO ORDER A SPECIFIC KINDA HEADCANONS LIST IF NO ONE MINDS AND IT HASN'T BEEN WRITTEN ALREADY ALRIGHT YEAH

a nonbinary reader who is pretty similar to Seb's stubborn, independent and sassy persona but WOMP WOMP, they're suddenly head over heels for him. NEITHER WANTS TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE FEELINGS (aka "HE'S FUCKING MARRIED, IT'S NOT MUTUAL AND IM BUSY WITH NOT DYING, BUT I CANT GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD" & "I HAVE A WIFE AND THEY'RE JUST SOME EXPENDABLE BASTARD, GET OVER IT, SOLACE"). the distracting, unnecessary, painful pining. how do both cope and who's gonna break first? and most importantly, is either gonna throw their ego and rationality out the window to confess despite the fear of looking pathetic?

oooof i hope it's not too much and it's not breaking any rules. thank you in advance if you find it interesting enough for writing! :D

Awww, thanks so much! Although I should make it very clear the wife in question will remain vague and is NOT BASED ON ANYONE! Thanks for the request ❤️

♡Married! Sebastian Solace x NB! Similar! Reader Headcannons♡

Warnings: Sebastian is Married and Y/N is technically an Affair Partner

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had found you interesting from the moment you opened your mouth and got sassy with him, mostly because most people don't have the balls to do it

Despite finding this slightly irritating, he also found it refreshing, so he didn't immediately shoot you if only for his own entertainment

A terrible mistake he'd soon find out

He developed some definitely unhealthy feelings the first time one of your comebacks had an almost flirtatious undertone

It was an accident on your part, but it got him thinking

He was a married man fawning quietly over you, how awful is that?

I mean of course he’s flashed the wedding band, and of course he's mentioned his wife when others flirt with him, but that doesn't change his feelings

If you flirted with him, would he really reject you?

Could he?

He hadn't known the touch of his wife in years, the softness of her hands, the warmth of her kisses

After everything that's happened he couldn't even remember her name. He should be able to remember his wifes name right?

Does he really even care about her? Does he love her now? Did he love her then?

It comes with an odd sense of guilt he doesn't like to look at. Especially when you do something that makes his heart flutter.

You, on the other hand, probably didn't develop any real feelings until he actually saved your ass.

You'd been running for your life and he’d snatched you up and into the vents, tossing you easily into his shop and shutting it behind you

His gaze transfixed on said vent, a hand on his gun. Something about him choosing to save your life while also putting up with your attitude was a little attractive…

Okay, insanely attractive

Sure, Sebastian’s guilt for being attracted to you is bad, but so is yours

You’re attracted to a married man who has absolutely gushed about his wife in front of you before. Even if it was only because someone tried to get a little flirty, what does that matter?

Honestly the mutual attraction makes it hard for you both to focus

Everything about that man is intoxicating, his smile, his laugh, his attitude. Can you really be judged for this?

Neither of you can focus on anything but each other whenever you’re both in a room.

It’s led to Sebastian getting surprised whenever another person buys something off him because he had no idea anyone else was in here

Its also led to you freaking out whenever one of the other expendable touches your shoulder without you having realized anyone was standing behind you

You hide it well…at least you hope you do?

The longing glances and quiet staring on both sides is unbearable though

Especially considering you’re both making those dolly eyes at each other, batting lashes and daydreaming

It’s cute but it’s also incredibly wrong of you two and you’re painfully aware of it

No amount of sharing food and acting like it’s not a date will make it less of a date

He’s already long since decided that he’s going to offer you come with him so you both can leave together

And though neither of you will have the heart to confess for quite a while, I think he’d do it on your way out. Something about you almost dying when you both escape makes him desperate to tell you how he really feels

When that ‘I think I’m in love with you’ slips out while he’s bandaging your arm that’s been cut by glass, how can you refuse?

Especially when you’re in love with him too?

He’ll toss that ring into the ocean once you reach the surface, his wife never loved him like you did anyway