#the devil cannibal / ic

[mrvelseb]

his arms fold against his chest, brows furrowed and lips in a thin line. he can tell if layla is having an off day, and she certainly seems off today. " you got that sad lil' lip and wide eyes. what's wrong, pumpkin? talk t'me. "

@starfaite / liked starter

[heatobrienswife]

this took me a lot longer to finish then it should have ieucgdiucg

but t/witter did a t/witter n put some shit in my inbox so drew the bois with their canon significant others!

got to draw fanart for my friend @maskedanarchy-ships n made myself feel better too!

[neechees]

Actually Im going to delete that ice cannibal post because there's several points on it that I think are inaccurate & I dont agree with. The assumption that the ice cannibal must be our version of the "devil" is also wrong since I know many of us have no such deity. The ice cannibal is evil & one of the most evil spirits many of our tribes have, yes, but they're nothing like the Christian devil. I know many people also just saw a bastardized version of it & assumed the similar iconography in the incorrect version must mean its the devil. In addition to that, many of our cultures have no "hell". Same thing with the idea of "sinning" on that post. The ideology behind what makes those things bad & evil is directly at odds with how Christianity sees evil, the devil, & "sinning" & I don't like the amount of comparisons it made to Christianity it made to try get the point across when the two are NOT comparable at all

[muses0fgracie]

@mrvelseb liked for Bonnie! ( No Longer accepting )

Some nice music was playing over the speakers in the bakery as Bonnie was once again waiting for customers. Now, something Bonnie liked to do in her free time was make some of the things on the menu in case someone came in; that way, she'd have it at the ready beforehand.

Right now, she was making a Meet Bun. They were so fun to bake, and not just because they were the most popular out of all of her treats. It was because the process of how to make it made her feel all warm and fuzzy every time... as she placed the meet bun in the oven, she heard the door open and the bell ring; Someone had come in, oh goody! Bonnie was so excited, she got up to greet them.

"Hello~! What can I get...... you..."

Her demeanour seemed to change for a second once she saw who it was. It was Mr. Velseb, the owner of Boys n' Grills-- the nasty burger place directly across the street from the bakery. Bonnie didn't like that place; not just because of competition, but also because a few of it's employees would occasionally tear down her advertisement posters and/or graffiti the walls outside.

But, Bonnie took a deep breath and attempted to keep up her happy face and happy voice from a moment ago; the sooner she got him what he wanted, the sooner he would leave.

"Is there anything you'd like?" she asked, showing him a piece of paper which listed all the options.

[radiosrequiem]

anonymous sent,  ❝  we all know you probably are into Adam. yes??  ❞   /   recommend romantic candidates

  ❝ I can without a doubt say that is certainly not the case. the only thing he might’ve been useful for is a meal, but alas, the angels didn’t even leave me something to eat. ❞

[mrvelseb]

He chuckled pridefully. Ah, it felt nice to be needed. The burly man started making his way somewhere deeper into the forest, whistling a tune as he lead her to--

He suddenly picks her up, right before she steps onto a beartrap!

" Ah-- dammit, forgot to tidy these away. " He isn't going to elaborate, just carefully walk while holding this girl at arm's length like she weighs nothing. He'll ignore the question is she prompts him.

At the cabin, there's a candle lit in window, giving just a hint of what seems to be a living room; an old rickety rocking chair on the small patio, and a large, although busted up and old looking, red pickup truck. He must have had this truck for a very long time.

He sets the girl back down and motions for her to go by the truck.

Alarm bells rang in her head...but she had no other options, did she? Following a stranger and going into their car, though...that was the cliché horror story.

But...she had nowhere to go. She didn't know this place, and there seemed to be no one around...what else could she do?

* Well...I-I suppose...maybe...I don't know where I am and I probably won't be able to find my way...

She was clearly hesitant, but...hopefully, this man was actually truthful and not murderous, or this would be the last day she'd live.

[radioisntdead]

This is my first time requesting anything from you so I hope this idea is okay but would you be willing to write something where the reader is Alastor's child (I live for Dad Alastor) and they meet Susan? Maybe they get really attached to her so every time they visit Cannibal Town Alastor has to reluctantly take his kid to see 'Grandma Susan' and be civil around her?

Only if you're up for it though! I love your blog so MUCH and I live for both the platonic Alastor and Susan content you do

-TheAmberFist ♡

Good evening my dear! I did headcanons I hope that's alright, I adore your blog's content as well! I reread your "leave it all on the dance floor" series often! I positively adore how you write Alastor's and the readers friendship! Also thank you so much for requesting this because that gives me an excuse to bring back this header!

Papa Alastor doesn't like Grandma Susan.

Alastor & child reader, Susan & adopted against Alastor's will grandchild reader.

Warnings: Cannibalism also reader is a fawn because deers.

HEADCANON TIMEEEEE

Much like my other Papa Alastor fics, he either picked you up off the streets, or you just straight up followed him home like a stray puppy.

He unwillingly became a father.

I imagine he was talking with your Auntie Rosie and You wandered off to explore Cannibal town!

Despite being in hell, it seems safe enough for children considering there were other children around.

Anywho you stumbled upon a cranky Susan and just immediately started going

"I like your dead rodent scarf!"

"It's a fox, what are you blind?"

Long story short she unwillingly became a grandmother that day because you would NOT LEAVE HER ALONE not that she minded

Alastor has to deal with you whining that you want to see Grandma Susan, dude does NOT want to call her your grandmother, in his eyes you only have one grandmother above that you will unfortunately never meet.

"I wanna see Grandma Susan!"

"She's not your grandmother, why in the devil's name would you want to see her?"

"Because she's my grandma,"

"No she's not."

"yes she is!"

"No."

"Yes!"

Que a repeat of no's and yes until he eventually relents because you are NOT TAKING NO FOR AN ANSWER.

I imagine Susan enjoys your company but also uses you to peeve off the embodiment of red-40 that is your parent.

Like Alastor leaves you with her for whatever reason and is just like

"Don't give them any candy, no more then two juice boxes anymore and they get rowdy."

Guess who got a little goodie bag of candies and had a whole box of CapriSuns?

Also I imagine you as a fawn, specifically one of these [no this totally isn't an excuse to show the deer pictures I have saved noooooo]

Susan puts either a bow or bow tie on you, I imagine she breaks into the hotel sometimes when Alastor is out and is just like "I'm taking my grandchild out, fuck off!"

Vaggie tried to stop her once and nearly lost an arm, so far the only ones that are successful in getting Susan to not kidnap you is Angel dust [aka your favorite babysitter] ,Rosie, Alastor himself, for everyone else they have to risk losing limbs, Charlie could probably coax you away from Susan.

They banned her from the hotel, set up security measures.

She keeps getting in they don't know how, they're terrified.

Nothing stops Susan.

Alastor keeps cordial with Susan because he can't do anything to Susan because of Rosie and also because much to his displeasure you are attached to the ornery old bitch.

Alastor wants to take you on a father-child day? Torturing sinners, getting cannibal ice cream, getting souls,

He can't BECAUSE Susan snuck into the hotel and snatched you up!

On the flip side, Susan wants to take you shopping because the modern [1920's-1930's] clothing Alastor dresses you in is horrendous, Her words not mine

But no Alastor literally just picked you up and teleported away, how rude! How dare he keep her from her grandchild?? Ungrateful brat who raised him? [She's lucky Alastor did NOT HEAR THAT, just because he's dead and his ma is in heaven does NOT MEAN HE'S NOT STILL A MAMA'S BOY the good version ]

I imagine as a consequence Susan starts acting like Alastor's parent, like threatening to ground him, telling him to go in the corner and think about what he's done, chastising him for his awful haircut, then grabbing a bowl and scissors.

Alastor hid behind Rosie while Susan and you looked for him because she was definitely planning on giving him a bowl cut.

Good evening folks! Oh how I've missed writing for Susan! I missed our grumpy grandma, I hope you enjoyed this! As per usual thank you for tuning in I hope to see you again soon!

[radio-writes]

I'll go with:

"You win"

"Why should I stay?"

"And what will you do? Run from me?"

It Seems the Devil and I Walked Hand in Hand

300 Followers Event

Warnings: Forced cannibalism, gore, murder, stockholm syndrome

Tags: Alastor x reader, GN reader, yandare, reader goes insane, dead dove do not eat

MDNI

A humid breeze blew through your hair, the putrid stench of Hell carried with it. Somewhere in the distance, something—whatever it may be this time—exploded, prompting usual screams of terror.

But your heart fluttered, eyes fixated on your friend next to you. You sat side by side with them, on a random hilltop the two of you stumbled upon. It was quiet, but barely out of the chaos of the main pentagram. 

"What? What is it?" They laughed as they finally called you out on your staring.

You almost swooned as their warm brown eyes met yours. "You just have the prettiest set of eyes in all of Hell, that's all."

You had been so proud of that. So happy about how smooth you were at the delivery. Giddy about the blush that crept onto your friend's face.

The same warm brown eyes—Hell's prettiest, as Alastor so kindly reminded you—stared back at you now. 

Unseeing.

Without its owner's head anywhere near.

On a plate placed before you.

Your blood felt like ice as you hung your head low. Unable to think. Unable to feel. Unable to breathe, maybe, you weren't really sure anymore.

"Afraid I might have gotten carried away, dear. I was absolutely starving since you stood me up on our lunch meeting." Alastor's tone was as bright and cheerful as it always was—you could almost argue that it was even happier now. "Of course, I did save you their eyes. I knew how much you just loved them."

He continued on, sighing and swooning about this and that. How it had been a while since he had such a satisfying meal. How it was all thanks to you for leading him to it. How he can't wait to meet more of your friends—if you ever managed to make any after the show he put on for you.

But you sat still, mind unable to comprehend what actually sat in front of you. Alastor might as well have been talking from three rooms away for all you heard from him. His voice almost sounding like it came from underwater, barely able to pierce through the fog in your head.

It was only when the demon who sat across from you stabbed a fork through an eyeball on your plate, did your senses come back. Like a flipped switch, you could hear well again, in time to hear the disgusting squish of the organ, blood and fluids spilling as it was stabbed.

"Don't let it go cold now, my dear. I went through so much trouble to get them intact and still warm for you." Alastor smiled as he sat across you.

One of his elbows rested on the table, hand cradling his cheek as you met his gaze. The gleeful, cold red eyes sickened you much more than the gore he held up. He raised the fork to you. Your friend's eye at the end of it. "Say Aaah~"

You pressed your lips together. Whether to resist the cruel torture, or to keep the bile from coming out, you were unsure. 

Like a stubborn child, you shook your head, arms pushing against the table to get up from your seat. Alastor was behind you in seconds, dissolving and rematerializing through shadows faster than you could blink.

"Nuh uh, dearest. We don't waste good food in this Hotel. What would the papers say if they find out we throw away such scarce resource?" He pressed his body against the back of your chair, securing you back at the table with an easy push.

He leaned over your shoulder, long arms reached around you. You stared as his clawed hands planted themselves on the table in front of you, caging you in, framing that horrid plate.

You felt his breath by your ear, that horribly familiar static prickled your skin, before you heard him speak. "You know, I'm starting to think you like how your friends taste."

You swallowed against your dry throat, eyes wide. Every breath you took was shallow as you tried to shake your head only to be met with a mocking laugh.

"No? Come now, why lie, my dear? It's only us here." Alastor leaned closer over you. The heat of his body inescapable. "This is the third friend this month. Even a child would have learned by now." 

"I'm all you need, darling. Everyone else is just cattle." His voice distorted as he spoke, a threat, a promise, you knew from experience that he'd deliver on.

Faintly you could feel the weight of metal around your neck. It wasn't physically there, no. After all, it's been a while since you've given him a reason to summon that chain. But it never really ever felt absent, specially at times like this.

You sighed in resignation, and braced yourself for that familiar horrible taste. Your hands clenched into fists on your lap—a sight that delighted the demon behind you.

"You win." You said softly. Numbly, you parted your lips, mind wandering away as you let Alastor slide the fork into your slack mouth. You ignored what it was you were chewing, letting your body function through the motions as you fought to keep your thoughts else were. 

You felt a large hand pat your head, bringing you back to the present in time to hear Alastor's praise. "What a good pet you make, my dear."

The plate before you was empty now, Alastor's looming figure having retreated away from your shaking one, back in his seat in front of you.

The horrible rotten taste still lingered in your mouth, but you didn't bother to ask for something to wash it away. You simply stood up, ready to run to your room and force yourself to throw up—again.

"Hm? Running from me now, are we?" Alastor's brows raised as he watched you. "Not that you can, I own you, after all." 

You suspected his words were less of a reminder for you, and more on just him loving to say them.

"And why should I stay?" Your words seemed argumentative, but your tone and the hunch of your shoulders were anything but. "I've already finished my punishment."

"I would say it was more of a treat, really. You have no idea how much I wanted to eat those." He laughed, not really minding that you just stared back blankly at him.

"Besides, you've yet to pay me back for leaving me waiting at Rosie's. So come, sit." An invitation to most, an order to you.

So sat you did. You ignored the smudges of blood on the plate still in front of you. You ignored the bitter taste the that lingered in your mouth. You ignored the growing numbness spreading from your chest to the rest of your limbs.

You ignored yourself.

Mindlessly, you nodded along to whatever gossip Alastor had, almost immediately, began sharing with you.

Alastor's hold on you had tightened in the past few months. Not only had he pulled you away from the people at the hotel—you were apparently terribly ill, contagious, but fine under his care—but he had also confiscated your phone and TV.

The window in your room was also simply magicked away. He didn't want you getting any funny ideas of leaving him again, after all.

At first you were fine with it. You had a few books in your room, anyway. But after the first two weeks, you've already finished most of them.

Still, they kept you entertained for a little longer after that; you didn't really mind rereading them—for the fourth time, you think.

But then you had that fight with Alastor. You had asked for your phone back, desperate to know what was going on outside your room. Desperate to listen to your music. Desperate to hear another voice aside from your own.

Alastor merely waved off your concern. He let you keep his radio after all. You could simply listen to him. He talked about current events, and played music, and broadcasted all sorts of screams voices. You didn't need anything else.

He didn't quite take it nicely when you had spat that it wasn't enough.

In the fray that followed, your books were lost. Torn to shreds in seconds.

But no matter, you had thought. You still had some paper, a pencil, some paint. While you weren't the best artist around, you doodled the hours away, anyway. Coloring, sketching, filling out every plain, empty gap on the papers you had.

You were quickly running out of material, though. You'd repeatedly ask Alastor to get you more paper, another pencil, even an eraser, every time he came by. But all he kept saying was that he forgot to fetch some, and that he will surely do so next time.

You were always disappointed, but knew better than to start another fight. You didn't want to risk destroying what little paint you had left, after all.

You had began to doodle on your walls. Counting the little details on the wallpaper, even each and crack along your way. You had drawn everything you ever knew existed; from characters you used to liked when you were alive to a freaking sock on the floor. 

The friends he made you eat.

Hastily covered with a drawing of a deer.

By his next visit, Alastor was appalled by the state of your room. He didn't quite appreciate your vandalism. He promptly snapped his fingers and the walls were replaced. Your drawings gone, the wallpaper gone, even the cracks were gone. It was now just a smooth red surface. 

He had taken away the paint, not that there was much left at that point. You thought it was fair anyway, considering you did draw on the walls like an irresponsible child.

You tried cleaning too, just to keep your mind going, your body moving. But no, no, no. Alastor couldn't have his dear friend, and a valued hotel guest, doing such menial labor. 

He easily cleaned the room for you, not a speck of dust left. Barely any furniture left too—he had found them tacky, apparently.

At that point all you had to look forward to were Alastor's visits. Constant, they were. He insisted he brought you your food personally, of course.

You had been suspicious about what he was feeding you, even once outright questioning what you were eating.

He had laughed. "Unless you made any new friends from this room, I can assure you, you aren't eating any sinners, my dear."

You weren't sure how much his assurance was worth, but food was one of the only two things you actually had here. You didn't feel like giving that up, too.

You hated him. Hated him for keeping you here. Hated him for ignoring all your pleas to be let out.

You hated him, but still found yourself jumping from your bed as soon as you heard the door handle rattle. 

You hated him, but him coming to visit meant you had something to do.

The radio by your bed, and Alastor's frequent visits were all you had left.

The isolation was driving you insane, broken only whenever Alastor wanted to.

Alastor was driving you insane, but without him you were completely isolated.

Your sanity felt like a candle burning at both ends, melting far too fast for you to keep it together. You didn't know anymore which torture you preferred. Alastor's presence or absence?

At least, that was a few weeks back.

Because it wasn't like you needed to choose now.

Your food had been appearing on your side table every meal time, instead of coming in carried by the familiar demon.

The radio beside you had been silent for a long while now. Not one terrified scream, not one jazzy tune, not even empty static. 

And of course, Alastor himself hadn't come in to see you in weeks.

You think it's been weeks, at least. He took the clock with him last time he cleaned.

No, there was no need to pick your poison anymore. Alastor had chosen for you.

At first, you had been bitter. How dare he ignore you—or did he forget about you? God, no, he wouldn't. Right? —how dare he not even check in to see if you were even still alive.

How dare he not visit.

And then, you were worried. It was one thing for him not to pop in on you, another thing entirely to miss his shows. He'd never miss an opportunity to broadcast fear over Pride Ring, but your radio had been quiet this whole time. What was keeping him, then? Was he hurt? Was he okay?

Then, and you think it was the worst of them all, you started to miss him. From the moment you woke from restless slumber, your eyes fixated on the door handle, begging it to turn. Your chest ached, praying to hear his silly staticy voice again, even if it was just senseless gossip.

You felt like screaming, begging, pounding on the door for him to visit you. But you knew he wouldn't like that. No, if the others in the hotel found out, Alastor would likely never visit you ever again. 

So you kept to your bed. Your days spent glaring down at the door in desperation, switching only to the radio to do the same, for hours on end. Every little shift you made, the sheets moving under you, felt so deafeningly loud in the empty room.

It was almost maddening.

"My dear, I have a task for you." Alastor's cheery voice spoke up by your ear.

Your eyes snapped open, greeted by the sight of the demon leaning over your head.

"Nothing too difficult, just a little grocery shopping." He continued on as if he hadn't left you to rot.

You didn't care, nor did you register what his words meant. No, the first thing your body jumped to, your mind went to, was that Alastor was here.

"Al!" The glee in your voice unrestricted as you pushed your sheets away and threw your arms around him. The relief, the absolute refreshment, of feeling another warm body against you again was almost heavenly.

A soft hand patted at your shoulder as he awkwardly stayed there. "Well, good morning to you too, sweetheart." He laughed.

You sat up, eyes wide as you leaned away and took him in. Unmistakably, a very welcomed sight.

He told you about the chore he needed done, truly very simple. Just a literal grocery list. But you held onto every word, every charming staticy syllable falling from his lips as if he was preaching your religion. 

You were determined to memorize it all, not just to complete the task but to simply engrave his voice in your head.

You were so thankful to finally hear something other than your creaky bed. To finally be having a conversation again. To feel human.

It hadn't even click for you that you will finally be heading out.

You were quick in getting the task done, determined to get back to Alastor as fast as you could.

You hadn't notice how your skin thawed in the outside heat compared to the icy room you've been locked in. You hadn't paid mind to everyone's greetings around you. You didn't care for all the flashing lights, and tasty smells, and loud music and laughter and screams around you as finished you little assignment.

You wanted to get things done so you could be by the familiar demon again. His presence almost felt like a drug you've been deprived off for so long, that it physically irked you to be away.

And that's how it was from then on.

You were given a new room at the hotel. Alastor had replaced all the books he destroyed because he just felt so guilty. He had also finally remembered to buy you all those papers and art supplies you asked him to get you. And he had even returned your phone and television to you.

Not that you cared for any of those. You've spent most of your time in Alastor's room anyway, unable to stand a second without hearing his voice. 

You'd cling onto every word he'd say, attentive, obsessed.

Your eye would twitch every time he'd mention someone, anyone. Part of you irritated that he had spent time with someone else other than you. Even more so that he cared enough to remember their name. To say their name.

Soon you not only clung onto his words, but onto him as well. Unable to stand that others spent time with him when you could not. You'd miss meals, miss sleep, drop whatever you were doing to follow him wherever he went. To stay by Alastor's side. 

When he forbade you from doing so, you would follow in secret, or have your own little ways to spy on him. To know what he was doing.

The few times you were away from your owner's side, you could be found standing over a dead sinner. Maybe someone who touched him, maybe someone he mentioned, maybe someone who simply glanced at him for far too long for your liking. Regardless, they were all equally deserving of death in your eyes. How dare they.

Alastor knew of these, of course. And while he was quickly growing suffocated by your constant overbearing presence, he hadn't really bothered to say much.

He still preferred this—this grotesque reflection of his own affections for you—over your defiant little attitude before.

His last straw, however, was now. When you stood over yet another sinner. The light gone from their eyes as you still, repeatedly, shot at their corpse.

The green chain appeared in his clenched fist for the first time in a long while. The collar snapped shut around your neck, but you hadn't even noticed until he gave it a harsh yank.

You were pulled to the side, stumbling over the body by your feet. You looked up, confused, to see Alastor snarling down at you.

"I needed him alive, dear." He said, his annoyance barely kept under control.

"He touched you." You merely replied, as if it was the worst offense, worst sin, in Hell.

"Because we were making a deal, you stupid pest!" Alastor hissed through his teeth, but you merely blinked at him as if you didn't see his point still.

You stood up straighter, keeping your eyes on him. Always on him.

He was so beautiful, so perfect. Everything you needed.

Why had you ever wanted to find anyone more?

"But he still held your hand."

"I'll touch who I want to touch. Do not forget who holds the leash here." His eyes narrowed, chain pulling taught between you.

You smiled at him, loving the way his voice sounded when he was getting angry. It rarely happened now considering how good you were for him, but oh, did it sound like music to you.

Your hands lifted to softly run your hands through the chain by your neck. "You do, of course. I don't question that."

"I need you, Al." You added, soft, almost loving expression on your face as your adored his furious red eyes. "And while I can't force you to stay with me, alone. I can simply just get rid of everyone else. I can be your only one, if I'm the only one left."

"So you've finally flew off the handle, dearest?" His question seemed genuine, not at all in jest.

But you laughed anyway, as if it was the funniest thing ever. "And what if I have?" You grinned at him. "What will you do? Run from me?"

Your fingers gripped the chain suddenly, yanking yourself forward, closer to him. You feel his pull against the chain as well, not to bring you close but simply to keep hold of it. To keep hold of his control over you.

Your eyes lowered, admiring him from up close now. The flicker of uncertainty in his eyes was new, and you couldn't wait to see more new things from him now that you're so devastatingly devoted to him.

"You own me, remember? I'm here forever."

[mrvelseb]

[mrvelseb]

" ....... "

" Show off. "

"Bitch I got rizz. I got rizz enough to be married even though I'm a damn cannibal so what the fuck are you on about? That was just cringe."

[stupidjewishwhiteboy]

Random anime, summarized badly (stolen from my Facebook Memories):

I Want to Eat Your Pancreas: a movie that contains absolutely no cannibals, zombies, etc.

Neon Genesis Evangelion: teen angst, with giant robots

FLCL: tween angst, with robots of various sizes that burst out of the main character's head in ways that might remind the viewer of other things going on in a tween's body

Gurren Lagann: We don't have time for teen angst in our increasingly growing robot anime, it's about to get MANLY

Promare: like Gurren Lagann, with gay firefighters

Kill La Kill: Wearing clothing is fascist, join the nudist anarchist rebellion!

Fire Force: Takes the term "fire fighter" rather more literally than usual

Kashimashi Girl Meets Girl: Well, I suppose there are *weirder* ways of getting free gender reassignment surgery

Ouran High School Host Club: It's about teenage prostitution! Sorta. Not really.

Cowboy Bebop: episode antagonists include Kareem Abdul-Jabbar from "Game of Death," Cruella DeVille as an ecoterrorist, a senile old guy who likes to play chess, The Unabomber with a teddy bear theme, a bored computer with an interest in pre-Columbian South American art, Marshall Applewhite as an online avatar and Baron Harkonnen if he was also the Joker.

Outlaw Star: one episode revolves around an alien cactus who uses its mental powers to force people to eat inferior ice cream.

Trigun: why don't more shows involve insurance agents trying to deal with the fallout of your typical shonen action nonsense?

Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Just because a critter is cute and says he can turn you into Sailor Moon doesn't mean you should trust him

Welcome to the NHK: even if both you and all of your friends are genuinely messed up toxic people, hanging out together is still probably better than not

Genshiken: If you have ever self-identified as a nerd, geek, or similar term, you either know multiple people who will remind you of characters in the show, or you ARE one of the characters in this show

Shirobako: boy, making anime sure is stressful and hard!

[destielaureversebb]

Coming soon for the @destielaureversebb: “And All The Devils Are Here” 

Author: @entropic-saudade Artist: @basketcasebetty

Rating: Explicit Archive warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con Length: 25,000 words Tags:  Murder Husbands, Torture, Cannibalism, Necromancy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Relationships: Dean/Castiel, Harry Spangler/Maggie Zeddmore, John Winchester/Mary Winchester, John Winchester/Kate Milligan, John Winchester/OFC, Zachariah Adler/Naomi, Gabriel/Kali, Brief Dub-Con Dean Winchester/Others

Summary:  

A road trip across America turns into Hell on Earth for the Ghostfacers when they pick up a hitchhiker named Dean on their way to Captain Castiel’s Museum of Monsters and Madmen. 

The fallout is as bloody as it is horny, as nothing—not the law, not prison, not the Devil himself—can keep Dean and Cas apart. 

Inspired by Rob Zombie’s Firefly trilogy.

Excerpt: 

“So what’s your brilliant plan?” Cas asked, looking over at John, with a possessive arm over Dean’s shoulder. In the cramped cabin of his truck, Dean had to sit sandwiched between them. 

“Ice cream truck up ahead,” Dean murmured under his breath, with a note of hope. 

“We should make a pit stop, take a moment to regroup there,” Cas suggested. 

“We need to keep going,” John said. “Gotta get to the desert before nightfall, pick up supplies. The longer we’re out here unprotected, the worse off we’ll be if we get caught.” 

“Come on, it will only take a few minutes,” Cas argued. 

“We need to save the cash we have on hand.” 

“I’m sorry, ‘we’? That’s my hard-earned money you’re talking about,” Cas pointed out. “What did you bring, aside from this overcompensating eyesore of a vehicle?” 

“Well, I was kind of too busy taking fire and defending my home to grab anything else—where were you two?” John shot back. 

Cas returned his glare, unwavering. A slow, lewd smile spread across his face. “Do you really want me to answer that? Because I can and will go into detail.” 

*** 

Dean slurped what was left of a popsicle—the cheapest thing on the dinky truck’s menu—off the stick with contentment. Cas ran a finger down Dean’s neck to catch a droplet of stray juice and licked it, grinning smugly at John. 

“Goddamn clown,” John muttered. “Makes me miss Hell.” 

Cas cackled. 

Dean leaned forward, turning up the music to drown them out before they started fighting again. 

“Well, sweet-a little sista’s high in Hell, cheatin’ on a halo!”

Posting date:  March 3, 2025

[crimsonxcloverr]

UPDATED DALE KOBBLE || LONGLEGS MASTERLIST

•NSFW, minors DNI•

one shots

little devil (sub!dale x ruth x femdom!reader)

the polaroids (dom!dale x fem!reader)

get it on (70s!dale x fem!reader)

cherries and cream (90s!dale x fem!reader)

blurbs

gunplay (70s!dale x fem!reader)

gunplay pt2 (dale x fem!reader)

knifeplay (dale x fem!reader)

satanic sex (70s!dale x male!reader)

satanic sex pt2 (90s!dale x male!reader)

blowjob (dale x male!reader)

creeper dale (dale x reader)

thoughts

eating pussy

eating pussy pt2

taking nudes

fetishes

fetishes pt2

fetish hard limits

anal

cannibal?dale

smothering

dale’s tongue

crawling

ball gag & collar

horny

sniffing laundry

giving dale attention

being a creep

being a creep pt 2

wet dream

sexting

BDSM

favorite/least favorite lingerie color

singing dale's songs

issues getting too wet

issues with getting wet

corruption kink

tucking himself

gentle sex

sex tapes

•SFW•

one shots

tender loving care

fluff + thoughts

dale supporting your interests

playing in the snow

halloween costumes

celebrating your birthday

xmas

helping you sleep

earplugs

falling on ice

before plastic surgery

confiscating makeup

shaving

cracking his back

watching a nic cage movie

insects

taking care of a sick dale

dramatic dale

anxious-avoidant attachment style

hair tied back

messing with dale's car

dating another musician

cooking for dale

dale's diet

stoner partner

partner with low self esteem

dale protecting you

dale's physical type

toxic dale

dale's fav alcohol

valentine’s day

•MOVIE THOUGHTS•

selective mutism

hoarding

calling lee

carrie anne’s mother and ruth

knitting and sewing

ruth’s bedroom

CPS

dale's mental state

lee and ruby's doll

[mrvelseb]

He's... quiet for a moment. Processing what this fella had just admitted to wanting to do to Bob; turn him into.. a doll? What is this, some sort of fetish? He shakes his head.

Kids these days...

" ... kiddo, I ain't... doll material. " Is all he can muster, attempting to pluck the taser from the other's hand. " And you.. shouldn't be turnin' people into dolls. That's just.. freaky. Even fer me... "

"Oh; you know! Tall and fat!"

"Not that I have anything against the big n' tall gents; I just usually prefer to make dolls out of more dainty men." Gavin gave a little laugh, placing a hand against his cheek. Of course he wasn't exactly a thin fellow himself, given his wide well padded hips, round cheeks and (slightly) pudgy stomach.

"But I thought you'd be useful! The extra skin and meat could feed the other dolls...And you're so tall you'd make a nice centerpiece in the showroom....Hmm...But I guess I can't take you; huh?"

[sanderssidesplaylist]

Laplaces Angel by Will Wood (it makes for an excellent Janus song imo)

(Strongly encouraged to listen to the song before voting! Lyrics under the cut.)

Have you ever died in a nightmare? Woke up surprised you hadn't earned your fate? Have you ever felt like Atlas, threw your back out on the axis And collapsed and threw the planet away?

Everyone's just blood in an ice tray A vampire picking flowers out in the sun Run your diagnostic tests, it's posited nobody dies agnostic But we still dial 9-1-1 And now we're singing

Ooh, could you take a look at me? (It's the norm for animals, it's the norm for chemicals) Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad? (It's the norm for particles, eye for eye for tooth) And now we're singing, ooh (it's the norm for chemicals) Whatever you think of me (it's the norm for particles) If you were in my shoes (yes, it's only natural) You'd walk the same damn miles I do

We're only tuning to the tone of the bell curve now Ask not for whom it tolls But with my head up in the clouds I can see so much ground And from up here, you look like ants in a row

It doesn't take a killer to murder It only takes a reason to kill We've all got evidence of innocence, it's "everything's coincidence" The difference twixt fate and free will is whether you're singing

Ooh, could you take a look at me? (It's the norm for animals, it's the norm for chemicals) Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad? (It's the norm for particles, I for I for tooth) And now we're singing, ooh (it's the norm for chemicals) Whatever you think of me (it's the norm for particles) If you were in my shoes (yes, it's only natural!) You'd walk the same damn miles I do Oh, oh, right!

So if you wash your hands of where you've been until you flood the second floor Neatly fold your skeletons, but still can't shut the closet door The only ones in need of love are those who don't receive enough So evil ones should get a little more

You, could you take a look at me? (You could break an angel's fall and ignore the Devil's call) Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad? (Still forsaken shoulders fall silent now) And now we're singing, ooh (it's no more than cultural) Whatever you think of me (you and me inseparable) If the shoe fits, would you walk that mile? (It's a small hell, after all) You could put it on the other foot, it's the same size

You, could you take a look at me? (Man no more than animal is made of moral chemicals) Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad? (Any form mechanical, thank you, God) We're singing, ooh (from the hordes of cannibals) Whatever you think of me (to psych wards of hospitals) If you were in my shoes (it's a small world, after all) You'd see I wear the same size as you Oh, oh, right!

[saints-who-never-existed]

Rereading The Terror

Two short chapters combined for you today, each more gut-wrenching than the last!

Chapter Fifty-Five: Goodsir

Goodsir's first few days in the Mutineer Camp have not been pleasant, needless to say. He begins describing Hickey as The Devil and the other men as an "Infernal Legion" celebrating with a "Feast of Human Flesh" after the confrontation with Crozier.

There are a few familiar and unexpected faces within that 'infernal legion' including Billy Orren, John Morfin, and Billy Gibson, all very much still living so far. Interestingly, several of the Mutineers are still actively resisting the descent into cannibalism - Morfin and Hodgson most notably - but Goodsir suspects they won't be able to hold out much longer - "the smell of Roasting Human Flesh is Horribly Enticing".

Just like the main party, the Mutineers also appear to have found leads in the ice. 17 men pile into a boat only meant for 8 and begin to paddle northward but it's clear quickly that they cannot continue to do so for long, and it's not because of the leads themselves: "I Heard Hickey and Aylmore whispering after we landed to pitch Tents this Evening - they made Little Effort to lower their Voices. Someone will have to go. ...now that they do not need Man-haulers, which Men will be Sacrificed to the Food stores so that the boat can be Lightened for tomorrow's Sailing?"

-

Chapter Fifty-Six: Jopson

Oh gang... I'm afraid this is it...!

Jopson doesn't understand. He doesn't fully understand what's happening to his body anymore - why his teeth and hair are falling out and he's bleeding from every orifice. And he doesn't understand why he's being left behind on this, his literal birthday: "...but he was not an old man. He was thirty-one years old today and they were leaving him behind to die on his birthday." :(((

He has just enough wherewithal to smell the roasting of the seal meat Des Voeux's men brought back to camp, and to note the stream of men visiting his tent, unwilling to show their faces but leaving behind a pile of mouldy ships biscuits for him "like so many white rocks in preparation for his burial."

Jopson can only really protest in his own head - against the men and their actions and, interestingly, against Crozier... "Hadn't he stayed by Captain Crozier's side a hundred times during the captain's illnesses and moody low points and outright bouts of drunkenness? Hadn't he quietly, uncomplainingly, like the good steward he was, hauled pails of vomit from the captain's cabin in the middle of the night and wiped the Irish drunkard's arse when he shat himself in his fever delirium? Perhaps that's why the bastard is leaving me to die." Good Christ if that thought doesn't actually fucking destroy me! It's not even the idea of doing all that for someone and it somehow not being good enough, it's almost as if it was too good instead. Like something about reaching that level of intimacy being too unbearable in some way and somehow being the thing that dooms him? Ooh lordy I'm unwell... :(((

Soon enough, Jopson's birthday becomes more surreal and yet more literal as his crawling from the tent is described almost like labour, like an actual birth - "He had grown used to the canvas-filtered dim light and stuffy air of his tent-womb that this openness and glare made his lungs labour and filled his squinted-shut eyes with tears."

Crawling over food - "brought to him as if he were some damned pagan idol or sacrificial offering to the gods" - Jopson exits the tent which all too quickly fades into the fog behind him so he can't go back, and tries to shout after the departing men.

He's so weak but so utterly utterly desperate that he even tries to use his fucking chin to drag himself along the ground when his arms fail him. But of course it's not enough. Just like that, the departing men are gone. "It was as if they had never existed."