#what's the lamb doing? hell if i know lol

[diospore]

baa

bonus lamby under break

he was too big so i had to scrap him

[bylertruther]

do me a favor, pls. think abt the eddie we were introduced to before he let down his walls after realizing that the party weren't who he thought they were. did u do tht? okay, cool, thank u. now, please tell me if you think that will would like him bc i'm very curious to hear y'all's thoughts 🧐📝

[ozzgin]

Hello!

🌟 here again! I'm here with another request for our lovely bodyguard yandere.

Have you ever seen videos of fans jumping up onto stages with kpop idols? Then get carried away by security behind stage?

I'd love to see how our lovely violent baby girl would react to not being able to react with immediate violence as a reaction given all the eyes and cameras on him. Would he be stone faced just carrying the stage crasher by the collar like a cat? Or would he be dragging him by the legs into hell?

The reactions of fans to the bodyguard would be interesting too, I could see Reader being jealous over people thirsting over bodyguard on Twitter or something lol. Or bodyguard confused on why people would say stuff like "he could snap my back like a twig and I'd say thank you" about him.

Hope you are taking care, and I have my fingers crossed to hear from you eventually

Sincerely

-🌟

Long overdue and I'm terribly sorry about that! I had the ideas for a while now, but I could never find the proper words to assemble everything. ;-;

Yandere! Bodyguard x Idol! Reader (III)

Your bodyguard has gained sudden Internet fame after dealing with a crazed fan on stage. Naturally, he couldn't care less about anyone else, but that doesn't stop you from trying to make him jealous in return. Someone will have to be the sacrificial lamb to his murderous possessiveness.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, violence, death, reader and yandere are both psycho

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

The screen of your phone lights up again and you only need a quick glance to know what it is. Another post about last night’s event. About your bodyguard. You sink your nails into the leather chair and look ahead towards the mirror, exchanging a smile with the hairstylist.

“Oh, it looks lovely! You always do such a great job.” You compliment the woman as you tilt your head both ways, admiring the gentle curls. Now get the fuck out already.

“I’m so glad! Is there anything else you’d like me to-”

“No, that’s all. You can go”, you respond curtly.

The stylist collects her products and waves at you, exiting the room. The phone vibrates once more with a new notification, and you promptly throw it against the door. It scatters in large chunks of scrap across the plush carpet.

The whole ordeal happened within seconds. You were performing the final song of the evening when a fan hurled himself over the security barrier and onto the stage. The people standing at the very front began screaming and some took their phones out, scrambling for a good angle to record everything.

“Please, (Y/N), I’m your biggest fan!” the man pleaded, approaching you with shaking hands.

You froze in place, observing his actions with the same indifference of watching a TV ad that goes on for too long. Before the stranger could even reach your proximity, your bodyguard effortlessly and speedily threw him over the shoulder, giving you a reassuring nod and retreating backstage. He had that smile on his face that signaled he was pissed, and your mouth hung open in realization: You wouldn’t be able to witness the massacre.

You knew that expression all too well. That man would never see the light of day again, and under normal circumstances you would be right behind your bodyguard, cheering him on and suggesting ways to further torment of whoever dared to get too close to you.

And yet, your little ritual had been interrupted. You stood there on the stage, baffled, as the other idols gathered around you with worried looks. You poor thing. That must’ve been terrifying. The audience was shouting words of support, encouraging you to continue as if nothing happened. With pursed lips, you tightened your grip around the microphone and reassured everyone of your well-being. The show had to go on, regardless of your bloodlust.

This morning, you woke up to hundreds of posts online about the incident. Or rather, the way your bodyguard dealt with it. You scrolled through photos, videos, and confessions regarding the mysterious stranger who protected you from harm.

“I need a man like that in my life!”, “I know, right? So cool!”, “Imagine how easily he’d pick you up”, “The broad shoulders! I’m in love <3”

You don’t even have time to be properly upset about it. Your schedule for the day is packed with interviews and photoshoots. You glance in the mirror one final time and exit the room. The bodyguard has been waiting for you, resting against the wall with crossed arms.

“I need a new phone”, you tell him in a casual tone.

“What happened to the previous one?” He inquires, somewhat confused by your sudden request.

“Just do it!” You snap at the large man, rushing past him without providing any window for a reaction.

Ideally, you would very much like to tell him that the sudden influx of attention irritates you beyond comprehension. Then he’d reassure you that his indifference towards everyone else has not changed whatsoever, and thus your worries are entirely unfounded; but, if you need an outlet to release all that stress, he can easily find an empty changing room and service you like he always does.

Unfortunately, there is no time for that.

The bodyguard follows your movements with raised eyebrows, perplexed. What could’ve gotten you into such a sour mood? Has someone caused you to be upset? Are you still pouting after the missed playtime? He ponders the possibilities as he searches for an assistant.

The employee is visibly startled upon hearing his deep voice calling her. She turns obediently and nods, flashing her best customer-facing smile.

“Can you get (Y/N) a new phone?” he asks plainly.

“Huh? Sure…Did she specify any preferences? What was her previous model?”

He stares in confusion.

“…Can’t you guess?” she insists.

“I’m not good with these things.” The bodyguard rummages through his pocket and pulls out an old, cracked device to prove his point. “I don’t use phones much.”

Why would he? The only time he needs a phone is when he’s apart from you, which hasn’t happened since the Christmas incident. He previously considered a more modern option, so he could stalk your social media and make sure you don’t have any perverts sliding into your messages. That proved to be unnecessary, as you frequently leave your phone unattended or involve him in the process: most of your photos posted online nowadays are actually curated by his truly.

“Oh, so you don’t know about the recent craze?” The woman chuckles and takes out her own phone, speedily tapping on the screen before presenting it to the man. “See? You’re trending!”

He scans the multitude of messages. Ah, so that’s what it was. His lips curl into a grin. To think he’d witness his spoiled idol struggle with jealousy.

“That will be it for today!” the photographer announces, gesturing with his hands and guiding his helpers with the expensive equipment.

This was it, the last photoshoot. You unscrew the cap from your water bottle and take a healthy sip from it, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your other hand. The only good part about the continuous work was that you couldn’t check more of those annoying posts drooling over your bodyguard. Remembering it is enough to increase your heartbeat. The male model you were paired with for this campaign walks in your direction.

“Say, do you have anything planned after this?” He questions smugly. “You could come back to my place.”

What a ridiculous idea, you think with a grimace. Does this asshat think he’s worthy of your company? After a second of contemplation, you’re flooded with the same disappointment you felt back on the stage, watching your fan being carried away like a mere piece of cardboard over the much larger frame of your bodyguard. You might just consider the stupid offer. Why not? It’s not fair to be the only one plagued by jealousy.

“Sure. I know a better place, though.”

Your eyes narrow in a bright smile and you lead the young man towards your backstage room. As you pass by your bodyguard, you remember to mention in a low voice: “Make sure no one disturbs us.” He doesn’t answer, merely gazes at you with an empty expression.

“Man, that guy is scary as hell”, the model remarks as he throws himself in your vanity seat. “Are you not afraid to be alone with him?”

“Not really, no”, you respond idly. “You, on the other hand…”

“Excuse me?”

Now then. To set the scene, you gingerly climb into the man’s lap and adjust your arms around his neck. What a frail little human in comparison to your bodyguard. You blush in anticipation and begin counting in your head.

“H-hey, what did you mean-”

The young man is interrupted by someone’s abrupt intrusion. Your bodyguard throws you a quick glance before turning to close the door behind him. Alright, he can’t be too excited. He must pretend he’s furious, baffled, out for the hunt. You went all the way out for him. He even checked his watch to make sure you had enough time. He can’t let his enthusiasm betray him.

You jump out of the model’s hold with a gasp.

“It’s not what you think~!” you exclaim with feigned surprise. “He started flirting with me and I…” Your words trail off and you rub your arm nervously.

The bodyguard approaches the other man with monotonous movements and grabs him by the collar.

“Wait, you can’t possibly…he’s a well-known model!”, you protest with a fake cry.

Sweet little darling. Worry not, he won’t disappoint you. He’ll put on the best show for your sake. Anything to soothe your innocent heart.

“Could be the President himself”, your bodyguard confesses with a dash of theatrics, “and I’d still break his fucking neck for touching you.” He pulls out his pocketknife and looks at you. “I’ll deal with you in a moment, Miss.”

Your knees weaken and you have to rest against the vanity table. Among the screams and pleads for mercy coming from the poor butchered model, you can only focus on one thing: the violent fucking you’re about to receive.

Your bodyguard truly knows you best.

[romana-after-dark]

Imagine Raider!Cult!Joel...

Dub con, public sex, ritualistic sex, bukake, Tommy watches <3 gay shit ahead if you want more

We love raider Joel don't we??

So many wonderful version of him!!!

I've written a few, playing with different dynamics and I've seen sooooo many cool ideas. Such a creative and fun fandom

but imagine Joel as a raider doing pretty well for himself. He finds people respect him. He's capable, smart, calm... and handsome.

Maybe Tommy is his right hand man. Definetly the most personalable while Joel remains mysterious. He gathers a small following, mostly of men but some families. Maybe they settle somewhere, but they never stop raiding.

Thing is theres just sooooooooo many helpless people out there!!! Orphans he finds families to take care of them, and they contribute to the group in their own ways. Young men he trains so they can be raiders. Most are able to learn, to push aside that guilt in exchange for a warm bed... some simply aren't cut out for the job, and Joel tell the others they descided to leave. No goodbyes and all that.

Women depend. Many have special skills, especially older women. Medical is important, farming, clothes making etc. Hell, a handful became raiders too. Some who are younger and seem useful, Joel will play a little matchmaker. Keeping the world alive and repopulating... well he didn't exactly need a love match.

Sometimes, though, Joel would come across a young lady who was just... useless. Little to no skills, nothing of use...

That was you. He was certain he'd kill you or leave you for dead after taking everything you had... but he was merciful

Joel offered you a choice. You coul come with him, join the small group of women in his home. You would be used as stress relief for him and sometimes the other men if he felt they deserved it or needed a moral boost. He assured you they wouln't partake in violence, you wouldn't end up like so many others with raiders... just be good, and you'll remain fed and warm

First he's gotta make sure you're up to standard.

But Joel doesn't just take you to the house, he had Tommy gather up the men

Joel makes sure to make it slow. Piece of clothing by piece, inspecting your body. He treats you like a lamb, deciding to buy you or not. Makes sure you're tender and clean and sensative. Makes sure the meat is right where it needs to be. He must've liked what he saw.

You're naked and bare to all the men with hungry eyes, but Joel keeps your focus and he manipulates your body to where he wants it to be.

Joel doesn't shy away from keeping his cock in full view. He doesn't care that the men see it. He wants them to see. The physical manifestation of his power.

He fucks you there, while everyone watches, stroking their cocks. Porn videos had been gone nearly 20 years, this is what they had.

Joel fucked you with no shame, chosing positions that put both you and him on full display. When he put you on your back, Joel made no attempt to cove you up. Instead, he let the men see as every thrust of of his hips made your breasts bounce.

He took your legs, grabbing you by the ankles and spreading your feet wide in the air. He wanted to make sure everyone could see how he stretched you open.

Joel invites them closer. Tommy, the boldest, reaches out to wipe a tear from your eyes. But you aren't sad, you're intoxicated, overwhelmed with thankfullness to be chosen as you cum on his cock

Joel makes sure to let everyone know you came.

After he comes inside you little hole with a growl, Joel disengages from you, stepping off the twin bed

the men swarm in around you

They all cum on your body (but not your face), when one man finishes another takes his place, coating your skin in the cream

You must've taken 30 loads when it was all done

Joel pinches your cheeks. "You belong to me now"

You couldn't be happier

This got much longer than I anitipated so uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh more to come lol. I was initially thinking Joel with a harem but then things went cray

Reblog, comment, send asks if you wanna hear about the actual harem part

if you like culty joel please check out Devotion by @noxturnalpascal !!!!

And of course, shout out to @toxicanonymity for raider Joel, which is what got me into writing dark in the first place

[wolviensabes]

NSFW Alphabet: Mane!Sabretooth

RQ: 'Can I request the NSFW Alphabet for Victor Creed/Sabertooth? Specifically Tyler Mane's version? Love your work btw! 💕' - @im-his-druidess

Warnings: Neutral as possible, the terms of good boy/girl are used and mentions of feminine/masculine bodies are used. Tried to include both while maintaining an open look so anyone of any identity can enjoy, but made it as vague as possible. Also uhh general sex talk, mentions of BDSM and stuff like that lol. Ignore grammar mistakes ty.

A/N: Yess you absolutely can. I did a SFW/NSFW Sabretooth on my other blog, but I sort of left the Sabretooth up for whatever the reader wanted to imagine. For Mane specifically, this will be fun! Mane is my favorite, has been since I saw X-Men 2000. Sooo thrilled to see him again in D&W, even if just for a moment. He looked so good and yummy. I did keep one or two things off my previous list. I hope you enjoy <3

Minors DNI below the cut. 18+

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

I see him as being pretty smug, he likes seeing you disheveled and breathless. He lets you lay on his larger body, he relaxes while you splay out completely spent.

He might ask you to get him a beer, even if you're exhausted, a slap to the ass as you wobble to grab one from the fridge. But when you come back he pulls you close and licks your neck. "Good boy/girl...you know how to make me happy...~" he purrs.

While by definition, he doesn't understand the full extent of what aftercare is, he sees that you need it, so he grumbles and bites his tongue, doing it regardless of his own opinion on it.

"Upsy daisy..." he grunts, lifting your exhausted body up, watching you whine. He smirks, knowing he's reduced you to a shaky form, "Ya look like a lamb tryin' to walk for the first time..." he chuckled.

He does try after seeing how badly he fucks you up. He's a big dude so...he really throws you around and you have wounds from his teeth and claws. He can't have his darling lamb all messed up...

He licks your wounds, his saliva has an antiseptic enzyme so it disinfects the wound, however you still insist on using peroxide. "Hold still...gotta clean ya."

He's not the best at it at first, but he will learn what you like and accommodate.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Primal dude is insane about your body. Whether you are more feminine or masculine, he goes nuts for a good ass. He grabs and kneads and squeezes.

If you are more masculine, he likes feeling your chest and trails down your sides, feeling your narrower body.

If you have TS scars, he is gentle with them. He rubs his rough thumbpads over the scars and how they trail over your chest. He's obsessed with them. He thinks you look great, and he licks them a lot, gently and mindfully if you let him. He won't touch them if this bothers you though.

If you are more feminine, he loves your breasts and plush hips. He grips you firmly a lot and loves to see how your skin pools around his big hands and claws.

He also really likes necks, he bites there a lot so be prepared to always have his teeth somewhere on your neck.

Victor is also egotistical as hell, he thinks every inch of himself is perfect. He's proud of his lion's mane and cock size for sure, but also prides himself in his stature.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Victor has an insane amount of cum inside his body, you genuinely don't know how he produces so much. He is like a faucet, just oozing it into you.

He cums like a horse and his amounts are crazy. You are full to the brim and he's still shooting the load, it comes out of you there's so much of it. He jokes about turning you into a twinkie.

He gets so pent up and he snarls a lot, he growls and groans, then when he pounds you and you feel him swell more than usual, you know he's about to release a ton.

It also gets everywhere so...you should always have sheets on standby. You can't count how many times you've lost fancy sheets because his load stains them. You don't bother buying silken bedding anymore.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

He doesn't keep a lot from you, simply because he has no shame.

But, he does like scents and smells a lot. He often smells your body in the morning or when you're the most natural. He memorizes it, keeps it in his memory.

He leans down and before he licks or sucks, he inhales deep breaths of your sex. Just the scent alone makes him horny as hell.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

He's had his way around, so he's fairly experienced. I don't think anything would surprise him or catch him off guard as 'new.'

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Victor pins you down and uses his strength to fuck you. He likes looking down at you completely helpless while he thrusts his thick cock in and out of whatever hole his dick finds.

Any position where he has you on your belly with your ass in the air for him, he is all over. He likes to bite your neck and hold you down, and he gets to really thrust into you from behind.

He also likes mating press, watching you cry out as he drills the deepest parts of you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

His dirty talk can be funny, or sometimes he will say something out of the blue that just makes you smile because it wasn't expected from him. But otherwise, he's not a goofball. Just the quip every so often.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

This guy has a lot of hair. He's insanely hairy, and come on, he's a primal. So, obviously.

He takes great pride in his hair too, he grooms himself a lot. He licks himself mostly, until you push him to a shower and he uses unscented things. He doesn't like to hide his musk.

He has a hairy chest and a happy trail leading down to his pubic hair. He's pretty hairy below too, but he does try to groom a little shorter because he notices you pull out random hairs after sucking him off.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Romantic isn't really his thing. He's not used to being 'romantic' at all. He's more...let me kill something for you and bring you its corpse.

He won't change for anyone. If you can accept his...brutish love habits, then he will attempt to be...less sometimes. On a hunt he drops an animal carcass and hands you a bloody wildflower he ripped from the ground, roots and dirt still attached.

That's as good as it gets. But for him, that's a pretty big gesture.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Yikes. With those claws?

I don't think he does. Not often anyway. He'd rather have you help him out when he needs something.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Sabretooth is pretty damn kinky, he isn't ashamed about any of his sexual desires and is open with you about them.

He obviously loves predator/prey dynamics, he likes to pretend to hunt you in the woods and when he catches you, he fucks you into the mossy ground. It gets his instincts going and he feels like his cock is on fire when he's hunting you. Plus the sex that comes from 'hunting' you is honestly some of the best you've had. Prey pet names for sure.

Breeding is a huge kink for him. He likes making a mess, but he prefers to bury himself into you and fill you up, regardless if you can get pregnant or not. He will pound multiple loads into you and won't stop until you are squirting it out around his cock. This is also applicable if you are male, he doesn't care. As long as he buries himself into you and fills you full.

BDSM is something that's interesting to him, though not every aspect of it. He's a pretty big sadist, so his claws and teeth will definitely mark you up all bloody and you'll be bruised from his hard grip on you thanks to his strength. He'd probably be into impact play, so he'd like to spank you while he's fucking you. He prefers to let himself do the marking rather than a toy. It's more intimate to him.

I think he might find bondage fun just because you'd be completely helpless and it can tie into the whole predator/prey play too. Like a little bunny caught in a snare and he stumbles upon you, helpless to the hungry big cat.

I think he probably would have a thing for housewife type of behavior, things that aren't inherently sexual but can turn him on. So cleaning and cooking, bringing him beer or food while he sits back, I don't know I just have a weird feeling he would be into that.

I also think he'd be interested in CNC. It's something that you'd have to talk heavily about, but I think it would be something he would want to try.

Size difference!! Mane irl is 6'9, so I give Sabretooth a few more inches. Over 7' tall anyway, and he towers over you. Not to mention he's bulked out. Looking down at you, he loves how helpless and vulnerable you are compared to him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

Victor will fuck you anywhere, it doesn't really matter to him.

He likes to do it in his bedroom, his scent gets rubbed into you when you're being thrown around the bed and roll on his bed. Plus, he gets to take his time and fuck the room full of the smell of sex.

He also likes to fuck in the woods. It satisfies his primal desires to take you against the moss in the middle of a thick trail.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

As mentioned, typical housewife behavior would turn him on. Cooking and cleaning for him, bringing him a beer while he is sitting down, or even fussing over his clothes would get him going. Seeing you in an apron and nothing else would make him completely feral.

Any kind of submissive behavior would catch his attention. He instinctively looks for anyone who submits, his need and desire to be the dominant person in every situation controls him. So if you are submissive to him, even with simple gestures like obeying an order or just lowering your head around him, it definitely gets him interested.

Submission isn't always sexual, but of course submitting in that way also gets him going.

As written on my previous list, purposefully making yourself vulnerable gets his attention. Cats expose their bellies when they trust you, so rolling on your back and showing him your belly is a big deal. Say you're on the couch and you just lay back, he is intrigued and likes this gesture a lot.

Also any kind of gesture that exposes your neck to him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Despite being fucking brutal, he wouldn't want to cause any serious harm to you. You'll definitely be wearing claw and bite marks, but nothing that will have lasting damage.

He also won't be interested in 'making love.' He will fuck you, and he'll fuck you good. He's a primal mutant so when he is intimate he goes hard.

Anyone who would try to dominate him would piss him off, and it would trigger his aggression. He would not be receptive to anything like that, especially with his natural instinct to dominate.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

Luckily, his tongue isn't covered in sharp spines like usual cat tongues, otherwise that would suck.

He is good with his tongue, he cleans himself all the time so naturally he can move his tongue around in all sorts of ways.

He is somewhat selfish, preferring to receive than give. But when he gives, you feel so much pleasure. "His tongue laps and he sucks so good. "Good...let me hear you." he growls against you.

He lovesss seeing you choke on his cock too. "Good boy/girl, choke on it. Is it too big...? Too big for your sweet mouth?" he teases, taking pride in seeing you choke and gag. It just turns him on more.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Best way to describe it is a feral man climbing on you and fucking you until your legs can't hold you up. You literally can't walk when he's done with you, and he fucking loves it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

He'd rather not, just because he likes taking his precious time with you. He likes watching you unwind, watching his thick cock bury into your hole, your wide watery eyes as you cry out and mewl for him.

"That's it little lamb...watch me split you open..." he says deeply, grinning wildly as you fall apart below.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

Victor is chill enough to try anything once, as long as he's not the bottom or the one taking it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

Forever. Victor's stamina is crazy high, he can go multiple times without stopping. Even when your body is worn and exhausted to the point of not being able to move, he could fuck you to sleep.

He lasts for a long time, though he can cum many times in one session and not soften.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

He doesn't own any for himself. But he has things to use on you for when you want to get more adventurous. Things for BDSM or toys to pleasure you. But he has nothing for his own pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Victor will tease you until you are crying and begging. He loves to see you desperate, screaming and mewling below him while he whispers in your ear how he could make you cum right now, but he doesn't.

The damn man also gets you so so close...then stops, watching you fall apart and cry. "Shush, I will let you when I am ready...now, let's see how close we can get you..."

"More tears? Now, don't cry pretty thing...maybe if you ask nicely I will let you..."

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

Victor is a dirty talker. He is a growler.

He is either snarling and grunting against you, or dirty talking you to your orgasm or so desperate you don't even know what to do. His words are so crude and filthy, you can't help but react. He just has a way with you and knows exactly what you like to hear.

That 'scream for me' that he whispers, UGH. He def whispers in a calm, low voice while he's toying with you.

And when he snarls in your ear, growling in pleasure that you are providing for him, ugh you could cum right then and there.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

Victor 100% drinks warm milk, and he usually does after fucking you and you've fallen asleep. He doesn't want to hear your teasing.

Also goes without saying that he purrs.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Victor is a BIG dude. So, obviously his dick is gonna be big. He's definitely a shower, but he grows a bit when erect.

Flaccid, his bulge is already large af, so it can look intimidating before you even get his pants off. His ego always flares up when he sees how you look at his crotch.

Erect he looks near impossible to put into you, but somehow he fits. He's anywhere between 7.5-9 inches. He is girthy too, which is really what you feel when he fucks you.

The first time you saw him erect you were so nervous, in which he found amusing. "Don't worry, sweet little lamb, I'll make it fit."

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

He can literally fuck anytime. His drive is super high, especially when he hunts and kills. Those feelings go hand in hand, and since he hunts daily, his sex drive spikes up.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

He knocks out pretty quick. A cigar and beer, then he is out. It's like warm milk.

Victor will clean up a little, just enough not to be gross and sticky. Then he sits back and demands asks you to grab him a beer. He downs it, then knocks out.

If you are wounded, aka clawed up, he will watch you while you sleep for a bit and then he will fall asleep. You usually bare new wounds, he honestly can't help it with those damn things, and he watches you limp to grab him a drink, though he will clean and tend to you as a silent apology.

His bed is very soft, it's adorned with furs, pelts, and a thin quilt as the comforter, so you tend to fall asleep fast after cleaning up. Your body needs to recover, and you are throbbing between your legs with soreness.

If you lay on him after, he will run his claws along your back lazily, making you shiver. Knowing those claws to maim and mutilate, but they only graze your skin. It's a strangely gentle gesture that you never reject.

Thanks for reading <3

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[bumbling-in-boogie-land]

hehe! Sorry I havn't updated this in 500 years!! i was moving! but perhaps it'll go faster now? twirls hair???

anyways

PREV

NEXT(NADA!)

TEXT UNDERCUT AS WELL AS A RECAP INCASE YOU'RE CONFUSED!

Lamb's internal thoughts: What?? Is it saying Shamura send Aym and Baal to...

That's right

flash back!! Shamura looking ashamed, about to fight the Lamb, mentions: I didn't want him.. to be ALONE..

Lamb holding their crown sword: I..I didn't understand in the moment..

Back to current, the Lamb has a sad look in their eyes, knowing the truth now: Oh Nari..

Nariander and the Fox are arguing back and fourth, when the Lamb suddenly commands for them to stop with tears in their eyes

Lamb: You were right, okay?? This was a bad idea, I should have left. The Fox can't help me..

You said so yourself! It lies!

Nariander comes to and settles down: Ah', my apologies. I almost lost myself..

Lamb embraces Nariander to his surprise, but reciprocates

Lamb: The only power is what we give it, Nari..

Nariander: I know.. I wont sacrifice anymore of my time to it

Lamb says good and Nariander separates to leave: Lets go

Lamb looking lovingly at Nari "Right behind you!" but takes a glare at the Fox and gives one last FUCK YOU for it's actions, the Lamb even though knowing the truth, equally blames the Fox and think's it's the ultimate evil for damning children

Nariander yells back: LAMB!!

lamb: coming!! (the crown morphs into a huge middle finger and lingers in the Fox's face)

just wanted a silly ending to the fox segment, I do wanna make more of this and eventually perhaps.. twirls hair.. we'll get our hybrid

RECAPS/EXPLANATION OF THE STORY THUS FAR!

so basically the Lamb was hoping the Fox would be able to help them save the lamb species with magic or something, and Nariander comes over and is like, the Fox is a jerk it'll make you think it can help you and wont, tells a story of someone of another lamb begging Nariander to undo their siblings death, essentially turning him on to the idea bringing someone back from death and creating life in general. Lamb doesn't pick this up and is like oh okay don't trust the fox because he's mean ig. Nai suggests the lamb just MAKE a lamb the old fashion way and just accept it wont be a full one, there's no one to say you can't or ummm send you the hell or something because you have babies when you're supposed to bring death, not life, Lamb says HUH WHAT?? WHAT'D YOU JUST SAY? saying Nariander was sent to his prison because he had kids, Nariander doesn't wanna talk about it so he messes with the Lamb and they sorta kinda start something going and they're interrupted by the Fox and the Fox is like STOP!!!!!!! I'll send your new babies to the after life again if you test me bitch! It was Shamuras idea btw lol, and Nariander doens't know it was his sibling that separated Aym and Baal from their mother and only blames the Fox for them being trapped with him. The Lamb knows better and courses Nariander to stop arguing with the Fox, but doesn't tell Nari that they know it realy WAS Shamura's doing, or they had something to do with it..

[libby-for-life]

Hey Libby! I was debating to send this or not, so I just thought what the hell. How about instead of just yandere Lucifer, we could also have yandere Adam? Couple that kills together stays together, lol.

Here's the scene: It's late in the night and everyone, but Adam and Lucifer, had called it a night. The two of them are cuddling in the lounge room, with a bottle of wine on the table in front of them, talking about anything and nothing. When Angel Dust came stumbling into the open area. Adam notices right away that Angel winces with every step he takes. But when asked what's wrong, Adam gets some bullshit excuse that just made him even more concerned. Before Adam could questioned him again, Angel Dust is already walking pass them and up the stairs, with a hurried good night over his shoulder. Adam in disbelief just stared at where Angel Dust use to be, debating with himself into going or not, wondering if it'll make Angel Dust even more closed off.

Before Lucifer's voice brought him back, Adam, My Love. Go to him

Adam glanced down at him, surprised, before glancing towardthe almost emptywine glass. Are you sure?

Lucifer smiled softly, before bringing himself closer to Adam and giving him a soft kiss. After pulling away he said, I'm sure, My Love. I'll see you in our bedroom once you're done.

Adam smiled softly before kissing Lucifer again, before getting up towards the stairs and heading to Angel's floor/room. Once he gets in Adam sees him shaking, curled up on the middle of his bed. Adam joins him on the bed, and cuddle up to him. He doesn't say anything, just softly combing his hands through Angel's hair, until Angel was ready. And when he does it's just awful.

Adam knew Valentino wasn't the.. best boss to his employees and he always seem to have it out for his.. Top Whore. Adam felt a snarl bubbling in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down when Angel Dust whimpered in pain at the slightest movement.

Adam pulled away slowly and got up softly grabbing Angel's wrist to bring him up as well softly speaking him, Let me get you bandaged up. A few soft words later, Angel is bandaged up and snuggled back into his with Fat Nuggest cuddling into his fluff.

Adam quietly left, his soft smile instantly dropping into a sneer as the anger and the rage and the pain, he was holding back from escaping was fully boiling inside him.

He quickly made his way to his and Lucifer's shared quarters. Once he opened the door he was met with Lucifer's knowing red eyes. Adam didn't need to explain what he was about to do, he just said, What you like to join me Luci~?

AAAHHHH!! I'm sorry for this long message I just need to get this off my chest and HOLYDUST friendship has me in a chokehold for the time being. Anywho what do you think?

Lucifer smirked at his beloved little lamb. So cute! Especially when he got in a murdering mood. The King chuckled before gulping his wine in one go. "Of course, I want to join you." He purred making Adam shiver. He always made Adam weak in the knees when he used that voice.

Getting everything they needed was easy. Lucifer was backing up Adam with his presence so all he needed to do was get themselves in the Vee tower.

They had a roach to kill.

The next morning, Angel walked downstairs in a shaky manner. Apparently, he felt the soul contract break the moment Valentino died. They had burned the three Vee's in their tower.

"I just don't understand. Who could be powerful enough to do that?" Angel said in a slightly scared tone. Adam smiled behind his glass of coffee as he snuggled close to Lucifer who was reading the paper.

"Who knows~?"

[alex-is-a-simp-73]

OKAY SO

Obviously we have The Lamb and The Goat from cotl

And like, idk how popular of an idea this already is or anything, hell for all i know it might just straight up be canon, or I may just be drawing lines where there aren't any, but The Goat always seemed to me like the version of The Lamb but for Shamura instead of Narinder.

What about The Lamb of the other 3 Bishops?

This idea might've been done before but I haven't seen it, so I'm gonna do it anyway.

I might draw them at some point but for now its just words lol

(aforementioned Words under the cut)

Heket- The Cow. Cows, based on a quick google search, (but Not the ai overview bc that thing is stupid) seems to be pretty widely accepted as counting as a Sacrificial animal, not to the same degree as lambs or goats, but the point still stands. ALSO, being that Heket is representative of Famine, a Cow seems like an obvious choice, as an animal that can provide multiple different types of food, Beef and Milk, by extension all other dairy products. I imagine they would favor the Gauntlet weapon, as a symbol of the almost Primal Desperation that famine and starvation can cause, particularly the Vampiric Gauntlet.

Leshy- The Deer. Deer can also be viewed as a Sacrificial animal, though admittedly it's not super common from what I found. However, I feel that a Deer ties into Leshy's forest/woodland theme well. Admittedly not a lot of symbolism with this one bc Leshy doesn't really embody one of the 4 horsemen, instead embodying chaos, however Deer can have, and are kind if known for, very unpredictable, thereby chaotic, behavior. I dont imagine they favor any particular weapon, in the name of unpredictability.

Kallamar- The Rat. Rats from what I saw are not Sacrificial animals, at least not in the way the rest of the animals on this list are. However, I feel a Rat is fitting for Kallamar given that he is the Bishop of Pestilence. Rats tend to be (often wrongfully) given the blame for the spread of disease quite often. They are also used commonly in lab testing, most often for medications, and when I googled whether they were a Sacrificial animal or not, I got a lot of results about Scientists having to "sacrifice" lab rats. I feel that The Rat would favor Curses over any of the normal Weapons, though I haven't decided which curse in particular.

[defectivevillain]

this winding labyrinth

chapter 1: suffocation.

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (reader is not gendered, race-ambiguous, and no physical descriptors are used)

summary:

You wish you never met Hannibal Lecter. But you yearn for his presence. You want to forget him. But he never truly leaves your thoughts. Now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a broken design. A battle of instinct rages on in your mind—one of bittersweet relief and cloying grief, fearless resolve and poignant regret; a clashing between affection and antipathy, pride and pain. What will win, in the end? Only time will tell.

this is act 2 of this broken design. if you haven't read that, this won't make too much sense.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

warnings: canon-typical blood, violence, gore, mutilation, death, & animal death. the animal death is pretty detailed, so please don't read this fic if you're triggered by that kind of topic.

author's notes: This first chapter is a little bit of a mess imo, but I wanted to post it to assure you all that I don’t want to abandon this fic. It may take me longer to post and update chapters, especially since I graduated from uni (mwahahah) and my schedule may get busy. Still, I really enjoy writing this story—and you all seem to enjoy reading it. Both of those things are enough to keep me going.

Something extremely ironic happened around the time I was writing the last few chapters of Act 1. So… if you remember, in Chapter 6, Hannibal and the reader go on an opera date (of sorts). During that date, the reader remarks that they “don’t know the first thing about opera.” Those words were pretty much taken directly from my mouth. Fast forward to about mid-fall, I get a call for an interview for an internship. I end up doing the first interview, then a second interview… Then I get the internship. The irony? This internship is at an opera house. (What’s even more ironic is that I’m now getting to the point where I do actually know things about opera—I know different productions and directors and technical terms… It’s absolutely crazy. The universe is making me eat my words, lol.

To make matters even stranger, I was in the office for the internship one day and caught a glimpse of a television, which broadcasts what’s happening on the stage. Imagine my absolute surprise and fear when I look up at the television screen with absolutely no expectations and see a single man in a beige jumpsuit with something over his face standing on stage, his shadow silhouetted against the wall behind him. Imagine my surprise when I see that, not only is he standing in an enclosure with iron bars (just like the ones at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane), but it also looks as if he is staring right at me—and he looks exactly like Hannibal Lecter in captivity. It was simultaneously scary as hell and weirdly reassuring. Anyway, I’ve taken these experiences as cosmic confirmation that I should continue writing this fic. Lol.

Anyway. Back to the important things… I’m planning to borrow elements from both Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon, but, similarly to the first act, there will be canon divergence and canon non-compliance. Also, as you probably discerned in the past act, there is some plot armor. But, this is fiction.

Your life currently takes two forms: before the Chesapeake Ripper… and after. 

Before the Ripper, the leaf-stained pavement of the Bureau filled you with hope. Walking through the agency’s halls was a testament to the hard work that brought you there. Each assignment was an invaluable opportunity to further develop your interrogation and combat skills. You went to classes, completed assignments, trained, slept, and repeated the cycle the next day. Over and over and over again. But you were happy. 

Life doesn’t feel so simple anymore. You feel like you’ve been fading for a while now, slowly deteriorating as you invest more and more energy into catching criminals. Your work has morphed into an exhausting mutual exchange, one in which you take murderers’ freedom and they take your restful nights. You can’t remember the last time you rested unencumbered by the horrors you’ve seen in the field.

By some miracle, Jack manages to keep the press relatively uninformed about the happenings behind the Ripper case. Everyone is too absorbed with the fact that Hannibal’s in captivity to remember to ask just how he got there, and you’re very grateful for that lapse in memory. You can just imagine the interactions you’d have with paparazzi. Is it true that he stabbed you? Is it true that he purposefully left you alive, only to surrender in your front yard and torment you with the constant knowledge that he will remain in the same place, lying in wait until the moment you will inevitably need him? You shudder. 

Even with all the chaos that comes from the Ripper case—the media coverage of Hannibal and the attention the FBI gets—life goes on. Back at the Bureau, you occasionally lecture the new recruits and you take on assignments along with the rest of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Jack is still wont to call on you at the most ungodly of hours; Beverly still trades lighthearted taunts with you; Brian Zeller still seems to hate your guts, for reasons you’re not quite sure of; Alana and you are back to a steady friendship, albeit with occasional beats of unexplained tension and awkward silence. 

Criminality continues to occur in the Ripper’s wake. You’re not surprised: the imprisonment of one criminal doesn’t beget the imprisonment of another. Even so, it’s difficult for you to proceed as if things are normal. You see traces of Hannibal in each of the monsters you apprehend. Your emotions are starting to eat you alive from the inside. You don’t have a therapist to assist you with those emotions anymore. And, while you think therapy would be helpful, you also know that there’s no way in hell you’d be able to actually be honest with a therapist without being imprisoned yourself. The things you’ve done and the urges you’ve felt…  Neither is even close to a semblance of normality. 

You take a deep breath. You have no issue stopping other criminals, sending them to empty white walls and thin mattresses. Why was Hannibal Lecter any different? You suppose you shouldn’t fool yourself—you know the answer to that question already: you got to know him. Beyond the mask of the Ripper, beyond the bloodied skin and cruel smile… You started to see him as a man, perhaps even a friend. Perhaps, even-

You tear yourself away from that thought process before it gets too far along. The semantics don’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re back in the field, back popping pills for your headaches and blinking fresh horrors from your eyes. All that matters is that the memory of Hannibal Lecter begins to fade away in the face of work— so much so that keeping busy helps you forget the pain. 

Meanwhile, a hundred miles away, a veterinarian walks into a stable under a farmer’s guidance. The two stand over a dead horse and the veterinarian frowns. The farmer explains the horse’s death before stepping aside, letting the professional work. 

The farmer quickly becomes lost in their thoughts. They hadn’t expected the horse to die in the middle of her pregnancy. The farmer swallows past the tightness in their throat and tears their eyes away from the horse. They were looking forward to the birth of the foal, looking forward to helping the mother raise her offspring. The stable air suddenly feels suffocating and they take a look at the veterinarian’s turned back before stepping outside to get some fresh air. 

Moments later, the veterinarian rejoins them. The doctor’s lips are drawn in a tight line and there’s a troubled expression on their face. The farmer feels any remaining composure promptly seep out of them, as the veterinarian suggests they come back into the stable. 

“It feels like there’s something here,” the veterinarian says, their expression conflicted. They touch the horse’s womb with a gloved hand and frown. 

“She was pregnant,” the farmer chokes out, their throat feeling tight again. It hurts to utter the words aloud.

“With twins?” The veterinarian asks, turning around to look at them. 

“No, just one baby,” the farmer shakes their head. Why would they ask about twins? Surely, they don’t feel another baby in the womb. The thought of two deaths is morbid and distressing enough, but three? The farmer inhales shakily. 

“There’s… something else here.” The veterinarian remarks, their face contorting as they feel the horse’s womb once more. They turn back to look at the farmer for assistance. The farmer feels a horrible, inexplicable sense of foreboding crawling up their skin. Despite that feeling, they nod to the veterinarian. The doctor nods in response and turns to the horse’s womb, before making an incision.

The veterinarian unearths the dead foal and places it on the nearby hay with infinite gentleness. The farmer’s chest begins to hurt as they come to terms with the sight before them. Their pain doesn’t end there, however. The veterinarian continues slicing along the skin before stopping and glancing back at them inexplicably. It’s as if they’re waiting for permission to continue. The farmer appreciates the gesture and they nod in affirmation. This mystery needs to be put to rest. 

The veterinarian inhales sharply, sending the farmer’s heart racing. The farmer prompts them to step aside, revealing the horse’s womb. There’s… something there. The farmer squints at it, a gasp ripping its way from their lips as they realize just what they’re looking at. A human corpse lies on the stable floor, a stark shock of muted crimson against the golden strands of hay. The farmer brings a shaking hand to their pocket and calls the police. 

Unaware of these occurrences, you slowly exhale and pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. You busy yourself with grading your students’ papers, and you don’t learn of the corpse until a few hours later, when the medicine begins to kick in and you’re foolishly convinced that you’ll be fine. Before you can leave for the day, Jack is walking up to you and beckoning you to the lab. The two of you grab Beverly along the way, which leaves the three of you to enter the laboratory that Price and Zeller are currently situated in. When you walk in, you’re immediately assaulted with the scent of formaldehyde. Price explains the situation behind the corpse, how a veterinarian found the body within the womb of a horse. The notion is strikingly similar to the other deaths by suffocation that have been eluding the BAU for several weeks. Jack seems to think the same thing, as he rattles off what he knows so far about the killer. You add things here and there—small things you can notice from the state of the corpse itself—before Price gets the group back on track. 

“I called you here because…” Price trails off, frowning before readjusting his stethoscope and placing it on the victim’s chest once more. The room is deathly silent as he concentrates. “...There’s a heartbeat.”

“That doesn’t come with the onset of rigor mortis—we all know that,” Zeller continues, looking down at the corpse with a somewhat puzzled expression. He seems to sense you staring and looks up, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze meets yours. “She’s dead.” He announces with complete certainty. 

“She was found in the womb of the horse?” Beverly asks. Everyone else nods and she pauses for a moment. “Make an incision and check the chest cavity.” There’s an unshakeable certainty in her voice and it throws you off for a moment, before you realize what she’s getting at. It’s not unfathomable that something was buried within the victim’s chest cavity. Suffocation seems to be a common theme with this killer. Did they put some sort of dead animal in the corpse? The thought makes your stomach turn. 

“Alright,” Price acquiesces, after glancing at Jack for approval. Crawford nods, evidently attributing value to Beverly’s suggestion. The four of you—Crawford, Beverly, Zeller, and you—watch as Price leans in and makes a careful incision in the chest. For several moments, there’s nothing but a tense silence in the air as Jimmy works. The quiet is broken a few seconds later when Price takes a sharp breath. “I saw something.” 

“Keep going,” Jack demands, bringing Jimmy’s attention back to the task at hand. Price nods and makes the incision a little bigger. All of you are watching in anticipation, waiting for something you’re not quite sure will appear. 

All of a sudden, there’s a flash of motion. A yellow blur flits about the cavity, before reaching upwards and extending its wings to fly out. You watch in disbelief as the bloodstained bird stretches its wings and flies about the lab, colliding with the sheen of the fluorescent lighting and sending shadows flickering along the floor.

Jack is the first one to respond. He quickly paces over to the small window located near the ceiling and opens it, allowing the bird an escape. For a few moments, the bird doesn’t seem to notice: it’s too overwhelmed with the sudden change in environment to comprehend that it has just been granted an escape. It has a chance at true freedom, but it’s too busy taking in the laboratory’s flimsy promises to notice. The bird eventually notices the open window and flies out of it, before Jack closes the laboratory off from the outside world once more. 

The group begins discussing what just occurred, but your mind is elsewhere. You feel a strange sort of kinship with the bird: suffocated beneath rows of ribs and walls of tissue and skin; banished to the space between; too taken with the small allowances to notice freedom within reach. You pinch the bridge of your nose. Your headache is returning, as pressure builds up in your temples and constricts your very skin. It’s significantly harder to breathe. Every time you blink, you’re greeted with the memory of that bright yellow bird bursting from its confines, greeting the stale laboratory air with beating wings. You step outside the lab to get some fresh air, trading your smaller prison for a bigger one—just as the bird did mere moments ago. 

It doesn’t take long for Jack to find you. After all, you’re not hidden—you’re simply leaning against the wall in the hallway that leads to the laboratory. Jack strides up to you, his hands in his pockets and that familiar tight line drawn across his face. You suspect he’ll get wrinkles a lot sooner than everyone else his age—sheerly because of all the responsibility he holds and the pressure he’s forced to perform under. It must be exhausting to be the one calling the shots in these horrible situations. You had always assumed Jack had the easy job, but looking at him now, you think that assumption must be incorrect. He is suffering, just as you are. Perhaps… Jack has just grown better at hiding it. 

The thought makes Jack’s remark slip in one ear and right out the other. You ask him to repeat himself and he sighs. “We need to go to the stable where the corpse was found. There are several police officers there already, but…” But we need to do a more thorough investigation , he doesn’t say. You hear him anyway and nod. Jack walks past you and paces purposefully down the hall, not even bothering to look and see if you’re following him. Perhaps he already knows you will follow him. 

What follows is an awkward car ride. Neither of the two of you attempt to break the tense silence, leaving a suffocating air of uncertainty and indecision. You don’t know what to say to Jack, so you instead busy yourself with looking out the window. You resolutely pretend not to notice your boss’s gaze repeatedly flitting over to you and, after a painful amount of time, Jack is driving up the gravel path that leads to a modest farmhouse and a beautiful wooden stable. 

The place is already crawling with police officers and FBI agents. Unfortunately, the police were the first ones to be informed of the case, which means the FBI is forced to share jurisdiction with them. You know Jack isn’t too happy about that, especially once you see the frown on his face as he watches the police officers clumsily investigate. They don’t have the right training for a situation like this and Jack is delighted to inform them of that fact—albeit with much more sugar coated wording than you would have utilized. A few minutes later, the cops are gone, leaving Jack, you, and the set of agents that Jack requested to follow after your car on the drive over. The other agents are quick to secure the crime scene, while Jack and you decide to explore the premises a little first. 

The property features a small, rather unremarkable house with slightly dirty bricks and a well-loved bench swing on the porch. The front door is agape, revealing hardwood flooring and items strewn about. Jack and you exchange a glance before walking into the home. You don’t see any sign of life until you reach the kitchen and come across an older woman sitting at the table, stirring a cup of tea. You’re quick to show your badge and explain the situation to her. She doesn’t seem to have a great idea of what’s going on, so you eventually decide to leave her be and keep looking about the property. 

Next to the house is a rather large stable, complete with several different stalls and a wide variety of tools. You have no idea what half of the tools could possibly be used for, but the majority of them look as if they’ve been used at least once. There are bales of hay in the corner of the room and various accessories hanging near the post of each horse’s stall. There are only a few horses in the stable—you think you could’ve seen a few in the pastures out back earlier. There’s a horrible stench pervading the air, and it’s not the typical odor that comes from a farm. It’s the smell of death. You look at Jack and he nods, inclining his head and gesturing for you to continue exploring the stable. It isn’t until you reach the last stall—one that is inexplicably larger than the rest—that you find the source of the stench. The rotted corpse of the horse rests at the back of the stall, the womb flayed open. The organs have been removed, but the smell of decay remains. Surprisingly enough, you’re not alone in this stall. A brown-haired man sits cross-legged on the floor next to the horse, a blank expression on his face. 

“...Hello?” You decide to try. There’s no response. “Excuse me?” Still no response. 

You glance at Jack and he raises his eyebrows, before turning to the stranger. “You must be Peter Bernardone,” Jack remarks. The mention of the man’s name seems to be enough to get his attention. On second thought, you remember Jack offhandedly mentioning that there may be a stablehand on site. It seems you’ve found him. 

“That’s me,” the man replies flatly, staring ahead with glassy eyes. He looks as if he’s on an entirely different plane of existence, as he looks at the wall ahead of him with enough intensity to melt it.

“Jack Crawford, FBI,” Jack answers with an introduction of his own. He flashes his badge for a moment before putting it away. You can’t tell if Peter is even paying attention, but you do the same to make him more comfortable. “We’re just here to ask you some questions.”

“I want to talk,” Peter murmurs quietly, just barely loud enough to be heard. He pulls his knees up to his chest; his eyes haven’t strayed from the corpse of the animal in front of him. You feel your chest constrict a little at the sight. 

“Good,” Jack responds with a nod. 

“...To you,” Peter finishes with a gesture. To your complete surprise, he doesn’t point at Jack—he’s pointing at you. Jack blinks in equal surprise, looking at you for answers. You send him a helpless look. At first, you’re not sure why you seem more trustworthy than Jack. Then you remember Jack’s position and the intimidating aura he tends to give off. You think you’d want to talk to someone like yourself too, were you in Peter’s situation. 

“Alright,” you agree. You don’t see the harm in having a conversation. You need information and, more importantly, answers. Jack stares at you for a long few seconds, before exhaling in evident exasperation. 

“I’ll be outside,” Jack promises, before walking away. You wait until Jack is out of sight before you take a step closer to Peter, placing your hands in your pockets. 

“What do you do here, Peter?” You hear yourself ask. Your voice sounds foreign to your ears. 

“I volunteer here,” Peter responds, still facing the corpse. His voice sounds hollow, empty. “Sometimes.” 

“Did you… know this horse?” You ask hesitantly, looking down at the corpse.

“Yes,” Peter answers without hesitation. There’s a hint of emotion in his voice now.  

“Ridden her before?”

“I don’t ride the horses,” Peter replies, “I just like to brush them.” 

“Okay,” you acknowledge. You begin pacing around the stall in an attempt to calm your restless nerves. “Peter, were you here on the day that the veterinarian visited?” Jack had briefed you on the circumstances of the horse’s death, how a veterinarian had been called to investigate before the corpse was found in the womb. 

“I don’t remember a veterinarian,” he stares ahead with a frown. 

“That’s fine,” you answer. He may not have been there that day. “The veterinarian was the one who cut open the womb and found the corpse… Did you know this horse was pregnant?”

At that question, Peter turns around and stares at you. His hollow gaze is enough to send a shiver down your spine. For a moment, he just stares at you, before huffing in amusement. “Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” you echo. You suppose that was a rather dumb question on your part. “Were you… sad about the foal?”

“Of course,” Peter huffs again. “Why do you think I’m sitting here?” This discussion isn’t getting you very far. 

“Fine,” you acquiesce. You take a deep breath. “This doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I’m going to give you my extension, and if you ever feel like talking about what happened, you can call me, okay?” Thankfully, you know for certain that Peter isn’t the killer—the psychological profile you built on this murderer tells you that much. Jack clearly doesn’t think Peter is the killer either, and those two facts are enough for you to rule him out as a suspect. However, you’re still contemplating the possibility of him tampering with the crime scene. 

Peter clears his throat pointedly and you remember what you were supposed to be doing. You grab a notepad from your jacket pocket and quickly scrawl down the Behavioral Analysis Unit’s phone number, followed by the extension to your office phone. You take a step closer and hold it out to Peter. For a fraction of a moment, you think he won’t take it. Just before you can pull your hand back, he takes the paper and slips it into his pocket. 

You turn on your heel and take a step towards the door of the stall, fully intent on leaving, when the door falls open of its own accord. Jack Crawford stands in the doorway, staring at you. 

“Good, Agent,” Jack remarks. This must be important. “We have a lead,” he says vaguely, his eyes falling to Peter. You can’t discuss confidential information here—the details will have to wait until you’re both in the car.

“Excellent,” you remark in relief. “I’ll meet you at the car?” You can sense that Peter’s attention is piqued. Maybe you can still get something out of him. Jack nods and walks away once more. You then turn to Peter, who has turned his body away from the horse to face you. Somehow, he’s intrigued now. Something has caught his eye. “Sorry, Peter,” you apologize, taking a step backwards and emphasizing that you’re a moment away from leaving, “I have to go.”

“What is it?” Peter asks, “Did you find him?”

“It’s classified, I’m sorry,” you respond, ignoring the inexplicable sound of alarm bells blaring in your head. Peter isn’t the killer. “But we’re tracking down this killer. I promise he’ll be put away.”

“You promise?” Peter asks, a dangerous conviction in his eyes. 

“Yes,” you respond without hesitation. You don’t have the authority to make that kind of promise, but you do anyway. The sincerity in your expression must convince Peter, because he takes a slow breath and the tension seems to fade from his form. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Peter. It was nice to meet you.” Peter says the same and you turn to leave the stable. 

“Price and Zeller found soil in the corpse’s throat,” Jack recounts to you as he drives along the highway, moving at a comfortable speed. His eyes are fixed on the road, but he recalls his conversation with Price with perfect consistency. “We traced it to a burial site about thirty minutes from here.”

“Great,” you remark, relief coursing through you. To your surprise, Jack doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply nods ever so slightly and continues staring ahead. Now, it seems as if he’s avoiding something. “What is it?” You ask. Something seems off about him. 

“You may want to brace yourself,” Jack warns vaguely. 

“Why?” You hear yourself question. Jack doesn’t answer, and he’s quiet for the rest of the car ride. When the two of you pull up to the supposed burial site, you’re filled with trepidation. This job always comes with the knowledge that blood and gore could be waiting at every corner. That’s the normal day for an agent. So… why does Jack feel the need to warn you? You grapple with the prospect as the two of you leave the car and join the group of agents circled around something. 

It isn’t until you get closer that you recognize the familiar stench of rotting death. Sure enough, the group of agents is clustered around a hole in the ground—one that houses a woman’s corpse. You stare at the marks around her neck, the dirt caked under her nails and staining her fingertips. She was on the brink of death when she was buried. She was trying to escape. You stare down at the body for another moment, searching for any more abnormalities, before taking a step back to let the other agents resume their investigation. You exchange glances with Jack. 

“She’s not the only one,” Jack says. You stare at the field around you—the grassy, open expanse. It seems to stretch on for miles now. You feel your heart steadily thudding in your chest, at a rate slightly faster than normal. Your head begins to ache. 

“How many of them are there?” You murmur. The question is quiet, as you practically whisper it against the wind. For a moment, you think Jack doesn’t hear it. You then realize that he has comprehended it, but is simply declining to answer. Indeed, your boss stares out at the field with a conflicted expression. “Jack?”

“Sixteen,” Jack responds, turning his attention back to you. You feel something in your stomach twist and pull. 

“That can’t be right,” you remark. It sounds as if the wind is picking up. It takes you several seconds to realize the sound is being conjured by your own mind, and that the air is damp and still around you. You swallow hard and take another look around at the field, suddenly understanding why the agents are now evenly dispersed across the space. They all have shovels and each sound of metal hitting dirt is enough to send a bolt of pain down your temple and through your cheekbones. Your teeth hurt as you watch the unearthing of sixteen different victims. They’re uniformly dispersed across the field. This is no happy accident—the killer meticulously planned for their graves to be close (but not too close). The thought brings a burning feeling to your throat and you feel your knees suddenly buckle. You place a hand on the ground, feeling the familiar horrible feeling of nausea climbing past your throat until you’re vomiting on the killer’s ground. It takes you a few minutes to stop, and even longer for you to fully recover. Your eyes sting and you can’t tell if you’re going to cry or pass out. There’s an overwhelming clarity in your vision and a rhythmic pounding at your temple.

This graveyard is a gruesome display, even to someone who has spent their entire career surrounded by carnage. You’ve seen your fair share of murder victims. You’ve never seen sixteen of them lined up in two neat rows of eight, buried in a nondescript field under layers of muddy soil. Moreover, you can sense the killer’s feelings—and it makes you sick. This was not a gesture born out of respect for the victims. The murderer did not dig up these graves to give these women a final resting place; he buried them to trap them, so that even in death, they would never truly be free. Their existences would be tied to him forever. They would never be allowed to breathe again. It’s nothing short of sickening. There’s nausea stewing in your stomach again, revulsion prickling across your skin, and sweat trickling down your neck.

You can’t seem to push yourself up to your feet. You’re grounded to the damp soil, to the wrong side of the earth. What deems you worthy of living? What deemed these women worthy of dying? Your hands are twitching at your sides. A deep breath causes your chest to hitch and you nearly vomit again. You look down on your body as you claw at the grass and tear it up, shakily pulling at the dirt and plants and grass and rot and death and injustice and horrible, terrible guilt and indescribable anger and vengeance -

There’s a hand on your shoulder. You instinctually tense, your movements beginning to slow. It feels as if you’re suddenly catapulted back into your body, forced to inhabit the itchy, dirt-stained skin and the endless remorse that wants to eat you alive from the inside. 

“They’re dead; there is nothing left for them here,” Jack says. It’s his strange way of comforting you. It sort of works. After a moment, he takes a step forward and extends a hand to you. You take it, allowing him to pull you up. Jack seems to be fighting against the urge to say or do something, because his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pulled taut in a thin line. There’s dirt all over you, yet you are still privileged with life. 

You don’t remember how you get back to the Bureau. All you remember is staring blankly ahead as you’re half-led through the halls by Jack himself, his hand on your shoulder providing equal support and increased pressure. All you remember is the worry on Alana’s face as you walk past, the way she gets up from her desk and walks over to you, how she leads you towards the far restroom with a gentle hand. It ends up being the same restroom where Zeller accused you of killing Franklyn. The memory of that encounter is far fresher than you want it to be. 

Alana leads you to a sink and guides your hands towards the water. 

“Allow me,” she remarks, turning on the sink. She steps away for a moment and you stare at the water dripping from the faucet. Alana returns moments later with a washcloth. She pumps some soap on your hands and helps you wash them clean. Your head aches. You don’t know what to think, what to say. All you can think about is the graveyard. It haunts your vision every time you blink, forcing you to think of suffocating under piles of dirt and debris. You inhale sharply, gasping. Regaining your breath is a chore. “I’m worried about you,” Alana soon admits. You hate that her concern makes you feel appreciated. Your relationship with Alana ended years ago. You don’t want to be hers again, but this very moment reminds you of the intimacy you no longer get to see.

“You shouldn’t be,” you remark. Alana laughs under her breath. You both know that’s not how it works. Emotions don’t bend to logic. 

“What did you see?” Her hand on your forearm keeps you tethered to reality. You shake your head, unable to begin describing the scene that will most certainly haunt your nightmares. The two of you are silent for the remainder of your time together under the flickering fluorescent lights, as you try to come to terms with the terrible regret, revulsion, and rage threatening to spill over your frame and inhabit your every waking moment.

next chapter

endnotes: thanks for reading! i'm very excited to continue this story, mwahhahahha

here's a lil sneak peek for the next chapter: “Peter,” Clark practically coos. You hate him, more than you’ve ever hated anyone before. He is a bundle of contradictions: a fine-dressed man with a fine-dressed smile and fine-dressed lies and cruelty and violence and- “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

hannibal taglist <3: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69

[docwritesshit]

hello!! if you're still taking requests i have a funny lil idea

could you please do a oneshot? basically poly! Wukong and Macaque x reader, wherein the reader has a high tolerance for spice while Wukong and Macaque...do not. like wukong and mac are suffering from how spicy the food is while their s/o is off to the side like "ooh it's got a little kick lol" while the two monkies are shocked

it's a personal headcanon of mine that neither of the monkies handle spice well, so I thought it'd be kinda funny

👀👀👀 I'm stealing that hc/hj

And let's make a round of applause for Reasons guest appearance here! Cause either had to

Anyways!

You were sooooo excited. You heard this new place had some real spice, and it was the first time they opened since their little stall during the festival Spider Queen ruined

And, you were very excited to bring along your two celestial boyfriends to get a regular human experience.

When you walked in, you clocked the decorations and the little bell with bull horns protruding from the sides. Then you realized who was on the cash register.

“Ok, you two stay outside, I’ll get the food.” You said, pushing the two out of the door quickly before Redson had time to look up from his station. Then he clocked where he knew you.

“YOU-!”

“Listen I know you don’t like me but I wanted to try this place out. Please can you spare just a few platforms for the sake of some money?” You pleaded. Redson grumbled, but began to tap on the screen

“FIne, what would you like?” You smiled, and looked at the spice chart.

“Uhhhh… one chicken, and two lambs. Chicken with Aussie heat and the lambs with your lowest level.” You said. Redson raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t ask unless you truly wanna know.” You plainly stated. Redson rolled his eyes and punched in your order.

“Any drinks?” They asked. You rattled off the drinks you guys liked and waited as your heard Demon Bull King in the background cooking the food.

You booked it back outside with to-go boxes in hand, joining Macaques and Wukongs table. First red flag was how their eyes already started to water a bit.

You placed the order down with a big grin on your face.

“Alright, I got you two the lowest heat with the lamb.” You informed. They both smiled, with Wukong already popping the lid open and lurched back.

“Ooooh boy that’s strong! Are you sure its the lowest?”

You nodded, with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Aww, can the great Monkey King not handle a little heat?” You teased. That did it. Wukong sputtered, but held out his hand as you gleefully handed him the chopsticks.

Macaque snickered and picked up his own utensils, taking a bite as you did. He coughed out the bite as you gasped.

“Oh that has a bit of a kick, doesn’t it?” You remarked as Macaque chugged down his drink. Wukong laughed at him, taking a bite of his food himself, then immediately spit it out.

“THE HELL IS THAT? MOLTEN COALS?” Wukong exclaimed. You shrugged, taking another bite of your chicken.

“I don’t mind it, it's tasty,” You commented.

Safe to say you were left with the leftovers that day, while you nursed your two monkeys back to normal. WIth lots of milk.

[wrrrenff]

Spiraling

Obey Me Angst Mammon, Levi, Lucifer, Diavolo (brief mention) Synopsis: Your are suddenly transported to this strange place called the Devildom. You don't know what's going on. These people, no... demons, seem ok but are you okay? You HAVE to stay here and be part of the exchange program? This sudden change is really spiking your anxiety and send you into a full panic attack in front of these men. Trigger Warning: Anxiety, Angst, Panic Attack, Mentions of Dying/Death

Still new with writing angst but i wanted to give it another go. This is my interpretation of what the beginning of the game would actually be like for an MC who isn't so immediately accepting of what's happening lol

"Mc, from now on you will be living in the House of Lamentation. you'll be staying with Lucifer and his six younger brothers. Humans, angels, demons, I imagine a universe where each accepts the other. Where we are brought together as friends. This is my dream and I'm asking you to be the foundation for it. One year, that's what I ask of you. Good luck MC"

Before you knew it you were being pulled along by the white haired man, no, demon. I think they said his name was Mammon. His touch burned. Your head was spinning. You couldn't breath. You're supposed to be okay with being forced into this situation? Living amongst a species that wants to eat you? You were able to keep your cool a bit better back in the council room, but now that it's just you and this single demon, the reality of your situation really hits

Mammon was too busy trying to get you back to HoL and get the house tour over with to even notice your breathing quicken. Once inside the HoL, Mammon stopped you at the base of the staircase and without looking back at you, started explaining where everything was. "Downstairs on the right is the kitchen and your room. On the other side is my room and Be..."

You couldn't focus on anything coming out of his mouth. Your breaths where staring to get shallow, heartbeat racing so much your chest was starting to ache. The room felt like it was spinning. Mammon's hand is still latched on to your wrist and he still hasn't noticed your change in demeanor. Too deep in your spiraling, you don't notice a blue haired man demon appear at the top of the staircase. Before he can introduce himself, he immediately noticed the state you were in. "Uh Mammon, what did you do to the human?" Mammon looks confused. "C'mon Levi. Why'd you assume I did-" He finally turns to look at you.

"Oh shit. MC? Can you hear me?" Though he doesn't let it show, Mammon is in full blown panic mode. He instantly recognizes what's happening. He's very familiar with panic attacks ever since he and his brothers where cast into the devildom. His face gets serious and he starts taking action. "Levi, get me some water and meet me in their room." Levi gets flustered at the commands but Mammon is too focused on moving you to the bedroom to even care.

You're still out of it. You don't even realize the grip on your wrist has loosened and there is now a supportive hand on your back rubbing circles. You feel sick, like you're gonna die. Hell, if you don't have a heart attack right now you might actually die at the hands of these demons anyways. Why did you have to be the one picked to do this? Why was your luck so bad that you had to be thrusted into this like a lamb surrounded by hungry wolves? You will probably be dead by the end of the night. The brothers and Diavolo seemed nice enough before but what if that was all an act? Play nice and sweet for the scared little human so they trust us and then pounce. And if when they kill you how would they do it? You hoped for quick and painless but some of them seemed like the torturing type. Suddenly you feel someone touching your face. it brings you back to reality just a little. Was he wiping tears away? You were crying?

Mammon had just sat you both on your bed and wiped some of the tears out of your eyes. He see's you recognize him for a moment. "MC, try to breathe for me okay?" He gently grabs one of your hands and puts it on his chest. "Try to match my breath." He breathes nice and slowly. He notices you struggling to keep rhythm but keeps encouraging you regardless. With his other hand he texts his brothers and lets them know what's happening, hoping the extra support and reassurance from them will help calm the human down. Soon after, Levi returns from the kitchen with a tall glass of water and a box of tissues and sets them on the nightstand. He then crouches on the side of the bed and starts lightly rubbing your arm with a circling motion. "H-hey, you're MC r-right?"

You register a second voice and turn to acknowledge it. Oh, it's the blue haired boy from earlier. You nod so subtly Levi almost missed it. "I'm Levi. I brought you a drink. Do you want to take a s-sip?" You look at the glass for a moment. What if they put something in it to make it easier for them to kill you... You look back to the boys, concern and distrust washes over your face. It hurts, but the brothers understand. If they were you, they'd probably feel that same. Mammon is the first to speak again. "Will it make you feel better if one of us takes a sip first?" They both see a slight bit of guilt show on your face before you nod yes.

With no hesitation Mammon takes a big gulp. Seeing the demon so willingly drink had convinced you to take a sip. The brothers sighed quietly in relief that you were starting to come around. "Good girl. That's it." Mammon says encouragingly. The hand holding yours to his chest relaxes, his thumb rubbing calming circles on your wrist. Levi pipes up again. "When I-I get anxious, I like to try and point out interesting things I see around me. Do you maybe want-t to give it a try?" Mammon didn't want to admit it, but his brother just had a good idea. You looked around. You could consider it all interesting if you were being honest. It's all new and unfamiliar you you. Looking around, you noticed all of the foliage in the room. "Plants." You croaked, voice raw from your crying. "I always found this room to be quite calming. I would often come in here to calm down after stressful days."

A new voice appears in the door frame. You remember him from earlier. Lucifer. Upon meeting the sleek demons eyes, your heartbeat picked up a little again. Mammon noticed immediately. "Oi Lucifer, can I talk to you in the hallway real quick?" Wordlessly, Lucifer goes into the hallway. Mammon was about to follow him until he felt a grip on his arm. You stared up at him with pleading eyes, begging him not to go. "It'll be just a second, okay hun?" He squeezed you arm and asked Levi to take over before heading out into the hallway. In hushed tones, Mammon fills in Lucifer on what's been happening since he first texted. "I filled in Diavolo and told the rest of our brothers to stay back. It seems I was correct in assuming that seeing more of us before they were fully ready would escalate their fears." Lucifer speculated. Mammon sighed. "I mean, can you blame them though? Demons and Angels as a part of the exchange is one thing, but I don't know if humans are going to be able to handle all this change." Lucifer wanted to agree but something was holding him back. He remembered back to examining your documents while narrowing down who to select for the program. He remembered there was something so special about you, something that just drew him to you. He couldn't put a finger on it but he knew it HAD to be you. "We'll make it work. Lets get back in before Levi completely scares them off."

The brothers walk back into the room and see Levi explaining the lore of his favorite show 'The Magical Ruri Hana: Demon Girl. Mammon almost let a groan slip but held it back when he noticed a smile on your face. The smile dropped quickly once you noticed Lucifer come back in. Mammon took his place back on the bed while Lucifer hesitantly joined Levi on the ground. "MC, I am terribly sorry about this situation. I completely understand your reservations but I am afraid there is nothing to be done now." Mammon kicked Lucifer, annoyed with how blunt his brother was. Lucifer glared at his brother then continued. "We do wish to make your time here as pleasant as possible and we will do whatever we can to make you comfortable."

You were starting to come to terms with the fact that there was no way out of this. You let out a sigh and started speaking with a slightly shaky voice. "Other than bringing me here against my will, you guys have been very nice an welcoming to me. I just have a million questions. Why me? What if a demon wants to eat me? What if you guys get too annoyed with 'babysitting the human' and just leave me to the dogs? Can I even eat anything here to survive?" Lucifer chuckled. Slowly and hesitantly, he reached a hand out. After seeing no resistance from you, he placed his hand on your knee and gave a reassuring squeeze. While I can't share the selection process, I can tell you that you are here because you are special. I promise that we won't let any demon outside of these wall, with the exception of Diavolo, lay a finger on you. And if they do we will take them out swiftly." You shivered at the statement. Lucifer continued "We actually have another human that is apart of the exchange program, Solomon, who we can introduce you to if that might help you feel better about being here. There are also two Angels in the program as well if that makes you feel any safer. But rest assured, my brothers and I are friends, not foe. We may seem hostile at times but we want nothing but the best for you. We want you to succeed here, to feel welcome, to be part of our little family."

Wow, you didn't expect to be moved by a demon like this. You still couldn't shake certain thoughts and feelings from your head but you decided to give in to this crazy situation. "Thank you. I'm sorry for freaking out like this. I think... with time, I'll get better about being... here. But if today, how you handled -" You wave you arms around you, motioning to yourself. "-THIS, is any indicator, I think I'll be okay."

Mammon squeezed your hand, pulling your attention to him. "Hey, there's no need to apologize, 'kay? If you ever need to talk to any of us about any of this again, we're here for ya'. No ifs, ands, or buts." You were starting to feel overwhelmed by how supportive the demons were being to you. Without a word, you leapt forward and gave Mammon a crushing hug. He let out a surprised sound before slowly hugging back. Poking your head out from the crook of his neck, you face the other two brothers. "Get on in here." Surprised at the request Lucifer got on the bed and joined in. Levi was still hesitant on the floor. He wasn't used to being asked for affection. With your foot, you lightly nudged his shoulder. "Come Levi, you too." Levi tried to push back his anxiety and slowly wrapped his arms around the three of you. You started to wonder what other crazy or interesting adventures would come out of this. You were still extremely terrified to think about it, but you couldn't ignore the rush of excitement you started to feel too.

[aniimoni]

Hello, have you gushed over your hcs of miserable Narinder somewhere yet? Because.. do you mind doing it again? I think I am intrigued

First off, anon, thank you very much for asking this. Second, it’s more precisely an AU, but a hc works too!

Keep in mind this is a very recent idea for me, so I only have the gist of it.

That being said, you have opened pandora’s box:

This AU starts off with Lamb meeting TOWW (Narinder) while they are very much opposites. Lamb yearns for community and a simple pleasant life, TOWW is still a power hungry god and pretty much hell bent on revenge. However, they both see the common ground they have: the Bishops and their feelings towards them. Lamb hesitantly agrees to start the cult in his name, they find Narinder’s idea of revenge slightly intriguing, but they do not really have a big picture in mind.

Lamb is the first to try and initiate some sort of community with Narinder, especially during the times that gaining new followers was very new to them. Narinder was a familiar face, and they very honestly felt some pity for him; not having been able to step outside for such a long time and all that. They would often die on purpose in order to pay a visit, hopefully start some kind of conversation.

At first, the frequent visits confused him very much and, at times, annoyed him. Getting his revenge was the only goal in his mind, and he wanted it quickly. BUT! I imagine (no, I KNOW) being isolated (even with Aym and Baal) for as long as Narinder was, he got very bored. So, after a couple visits, and some temptations, he began to feel more curious than inconvenienced. Lamb would often bring him things from the mortal world that they think would interest him, or that he should get to know. Eventually, some form of story time became a tradition. Lamb would come to his domain and tell him a story, wether it was an event that happened that day (gossip lol) or even a folk tale of some sort. It was, in a way, ridiculous to him. But he did find them “enriching” at times.

Over time, he grew very fond of Lamb and their visits. He found that it was his way of connecting with the world after such a long time, that’s what a vessel is for, after all. And, with the growing of the cult, they would describe to him how beautifully it was coming along. They would tell him about the gleaming orchards, luminescent nights, bountiful farms, delicious food, and gorgeous architecture. But what he found a lot of interest in was hearing about how the followers were also growing. He got to hear about cultists finding each other, getting to know one another, forming bonds, friendships, falling in love, getting married, forming lives together. Narinder got to hear about community, something he had been deprived of for such a long time. Eventually, the idea of getting revenge as soon as he was set free wasn’t the most intriguing idea anymore. He began to understand and know the feeling that the lamb described as no other than yearning. He yearned for gleaming orchards, the luminescent nights, the bountiful farms, the delicious food, and the gorgeous architecture. He yearned for community. But the horrid realization he had to come to terms with was the fact that he yearned to have this all with the lamb. He wanted to experience it all with no one other than the one who took it upon themselves to bring these ideas to him (the guy would daydream for fucks sake like oh my god get a grip you are in the trenches dude they’re gonna have to die for you to be fully free wth are you doing,, anyway). He yearned for this feeling to be returned, and it made him miserable.

Yes, the lamb enjoyed Narinder’s company- yes, they enjoyed the community the cult offered- but, they had had a growing change in perspective. The amount of control the crown offered was interesting. They could destroy the other gods, the problem, easily. With the power they had been given, they didn’t need to fear. There wasn’t a need to yearn when they could just get what they want at their own will. They began to see a much bigger picture.

The time for the final sacrifice grew nearer- BUT SURPRISE! Even with impending freedom, Narinder was more miserable than ever. He came to terms with the fact he wanted the lamb to be at his side, or well, he wanted to be at THEIR side. However, there was the dilemma of the final sacrifice that was needed. And who could ever want to be with someone who needed them to die? He had no clue what to do but stall, which could only last so long.

Reluctantly, he finally informed Lamb of what needed to be done, they refused (obviously dude). They fought. Neither could really understand what it was the other was fighting for. They couldn’t understand how 2 sides of the same coin could tumble from side to side so much.

Narinder was usurped. Lamb claimed victory. Both of them were in shock, because neither had REALLY imagined this. No one knew what to do next. The lamb expected at least some anger from Narinder’s part, some form of resistance, but they absolutely did not expect him to plead.

Even he couldn’t understand why he was on his knees, gripping at their cape. All he could really understand and know was the feeling, and it was more overwhelming now, more than ever. He yearned for a life. He pleaded for mercy, for a chance. And, the worst of it all, is that the lamb understood the tears in his eyes and the begging of his words, and Narinder the stoic expression on their face and the confusion in their silence.

Lamb allowed him to stay, but had no idea what to do with him. So, they locked him (not literally) in a hut; which he pretty willingly stayed in (in an effort to ease tensions). They try to avoid him as much as they can, but he keeps clinging onto the dreams they passed down to him.

Anyways yea that’s it lol, like i said pretty simple and vague as of right now 🫶🏼 some stuff might change idk

[awakentheeldritchabomination]

First off, I wanna say that I mean no disrespect to the artists who worked on Hazbin Hotel. It’s just that I’ve been seeing people make redesigns of Hazbin characters, and though I don’t usually participate in stuff like this (it seems fun, and you are all incredibly talented. I just feel kinda bad tinkering with someone else’s work like this), the show made me frustrated, and frustrated induced brain-vomit started sloshing around in my skull so noisily that it’s been keeping me up. And, well, I had to get it out somehow.

So…here ya go, I guess. It’s nothing crazy or new. It’s just a few disgustingly rough ideas for this very specific version of Charlie that I kept seeing in my head. They’re far from polished or anything, and they’re definitely missing some key details because I’ve been hyper-fixating on trying to get the face right lol. I might make a full body illustration later, but I have commitment issues so who knows how far this’ll go. That is to say, don’t expect any more of this or the other characters unless 1) my brain decides to torment me with more literal demons or 2) I, by some miracle, become a more productive person. Plus, Tumblr’s a new thing for me, and I don’t know what I’m doing with this yet other than posting art and then disappearing for years. Seriously, you have no idea. It’s a wonder that I posted for a second time.

Anyway, the direction of this design is pretty obvious. I went with the lamb/goat motif because I liked the idea of inverted/parallel symbolism. I was toying with a “wolf in sheep’s clothing” concept where they appear to be a lamb in this form but actually shift into a more wolf-like dragon sorta thing when prompted. Their wardrobe is supposed to be an extension of the innocent lamb deception as the ruffles and looseness are meant to be kinda reminiscent of fluff while communicating a sense of privilege (a white untainted by the grit of Hell… something that probably wouldn’t last long). I was also inspired by white goth and catholic goth aesthetics (I blame Ethel Cain) as well as those insanely beautiful ball-jointed dolls. I don’t know if I captured that well (to be honest, the more I look at those digital renditions, the more I hate them). I considered adding a pair of spectacles coz I thought it was cute lol, and because I thought it could be a way for them to try and seem more human.

If I were doing a rewrite (which I have ideas for, but I should probably focus on my actual original characters instead) then:

1. They would be agender and androgynous (I’d go the Good Omens route and make most angels/non-human entities largely genderless as gender is a human construction, one that most angels wouldn’t really concern themselves with)

2. They would be kinda elitist and naive but still sweet

3. Their intentions would not be entirely insincere, but they would not be acting without selfish goals

4. They would be an eldritch abomination

5. There would be possible exploration of their role as an antichrist as well as basically being a tool of war for their papa’s self-gratification

6. Their pops would suck

7. More horror

8. Like, it wouldn’t not be funny…but horror’s my genre so….

9. They would not suck at fighting, but death is traumatizing and so is being the cause of it (squeamish)

10. That being said, could make friends with Death??

And that’s all I feel like writing. Hopefully I update this lol

[malwaredykes]

ok. finished honest hearts. most of my inventory is plants and mushroom and Soups And Potions And Elixirs made from said plants and mushrooms. which is excellent.

the salt-upon-wounds confrontation was Tchruly garbo like. first of all they lit up ole josh before anyone even had the chance to say anything LOL that wasnt like Bad necessarily just rly funny. like yeah we can negotiate before anything breaks out *the camera pans to Jotchua Grams lifeless body on the pavement* but um second of all what the hell was that dialogue. "grrrr im gonna kill you" "[speech 75] no thats stupid. dont" "umm okei :) but i'll be back >:(" *runs away* Like. man. listen. throughout the entire dlc i Did Not want to be fighting all those white legs lol. i didnt know those people. you know i generally hate the Hostile By Default Irredeemable Canon Fodder Raiders crap and in this case its just especially egregious to me, with them being a Tribe and with me being some random ass normie strolling into the area getting instructed by the local white saviors. like, okay, since i Was getting involved, then if anyone deserved to Feel The Judgment Of Mine fall upon them it was in fact salt-upon-wounds with his track record of being a horrible fucking person. so i had to fight my way through all those white legs only for the Problem Guy to be like "Hm Okay. Deal. You Leave Forever And I Get To Live. Sounds Good. Sucker" like. fuck no. youre dead. this is for waking clouds husband how DARE you make my bald queen SAD

which btw i did encourage cloud to get mad at daniel for hiding that from her. like yeah girl dont take this shit from him. youre allowed to feel angry. who does he think he is. making decisions for the sorrows like youre all children. be mad at him. chase him out. tell him to never show his stinky mug around these parts. If You Want. ahh but then the ending slides said she forgave him.... well i suppose i have to respect her choice... but... cloud honey if you ever wanna team up and chase daniels stinky mug far away just give me a call

i also encouraged follows-chalk to go out there and experience the world outside... i really hated how he felt obligated to ask joshua permission, and how joshua was like Well 🥺 I wont tell him what to do but 🥺 Is it wise... I just worry about my foolish little lamb 🥺... like. Shut Uuuupppp.... chalk is an adult. i think. either way what do You know. jotchua. last time you ventured into The Civilized Lands (lol) you were a fucked up genocide army general so forgive me for thinking you might not have the most objective and up to date outlook here. Anyway. chalk come hang out sometime. come to the lucky 38. youll meet my epic swag friends and family. LOL bit of an aside but (mostly so i dont become insane because of the dlcs writing) i like to imagine that most of the time chalk expresses incredulity about some Civilized World Concept like gambling (-_-) or big dams or big weapons, hes literally fucking with you. like hes joking around. he used to mess with daniel and jotchua like that and now hes doing it with you. like Wow... How Strange... You Say It Is Called A... "Window".... 😂😂😂...

loving how the ending slides barely mentioned joshua also. like wtf happened to him. who knows. damn maybe he did die and i didnt even notice. im sorry jotchua. may your soul quickly find its way to NOWHERE lol #owned

final verdict: waking-cloud and follows-chalk are great, joshua graham is an extremely funny character, daniel is nothing to me, the area is cool, the plot is dumb as hell, the whole thing is racist, the quests are boring. 3/10

[dead-dog-dont-eat]

Out of curiosity, if Marzanna is Zestial's daughter, wouldn't she be technically be some sort of vampire as well?

(Ik that it wasn't stated that Zestial is a vampire, but still)

Funny enough, I also think Zestial might be some sort of vampire! But he also shares traits of a scarecrow and a spider (to which ayylmao commented about from the looks of his design, including might being a vampire). And if you know me pretty well, I'm a sucker (pun intended) for vampires and scarecrows. Plus, if hell and heaven and demons and angels exist in the hellaverse then so should other mythical creatures too lol.

Answering to your question, I would like to think so as well given that you mentioned it. If Marza weren't a demon then she would definitely be a human/vampire hybrid like Marceline from Adventure Time or Dennis from Hotel Transylvania. Ironic enough, I read that in Balkan folklore, a "dhampir" is a mythical creature that is the result of a union between a vampire and a human--so that would be what Marza is in terms of Zestial being a vampire while Pentious is a human. (During my small research of hybrids, I've found that a hybrid between a vampire and a werewolf are called either were-pires or vaewolfves, and those were pretty dope).

However, I would imagine that Marzanna would be a day-walking vampire--to which if you don't know what a day-walking vampire is, I would look up the character Colin Robinson from "What We Do In The Shadows". Being a half-human that she is, she can walk in the daytime and not get burned to death, but she prefers dark, cold and gloomy weather as her preference; and she is able to eat human food (because it was said that vampires cannot eat food since they'll choke because they cannot really even swallow anything but blood and also vomit), including foods that have garlic in them since she isn't repelled by them.

However, she technically is still a vampire. Another reason why Zestial might be a vampire is because in a scene where Alastor adjusts his attire in a mirror in "Scrambled Eggs", you can see Al's reflection but not Zestial's (ik this could be just an animation viewing focusing on just Alastor, but still) but yet when we see Al and Zest walking past security cameras you can obviously see Zestial on the lens. Like being said, Marzanna can't see her reflection, is very nocturnal, and have a painful experience when touching pure, undiluted silver and holy water, and have hunger urges of drinking blood.

While she can get easily full on regular food on her human half, she is still in need of nutrition of her vampiric side as well. She could easily feed off of butcher-produced meat, but if not available, she would have to go out at night to hunt for mostly small birds and vermin to kill and eat. Larger animals like lamb and sheep, cows, horses, and pigs are considered large feasts for her and would be satisfied after she is finished.

[artemfication]

“MC goes Buzzfeed Unsolved with the demon brothers while fucking with the entire human realm internet!”

CW: swearing. Lots of swearing, mentions of death/murder, all the typical stuff related to summoning entities, haunted places, live streaming, not proof read.

Part 3

MC goes ghost hunting in the human realm

“I don’t think I can do this guys…” MC has locked themselves in an old cabinet in a random classroom, shaking and trying to control their breathing.

The moment they heard a deep and booming voice, they bolted the shit out of the ritual room and fled into a random corridor, losing Solomon in the process of their escape.

“Oh my dear MC…where have you gone, little lamb~?” The heavy footsteps come to a halt in front of the classroom and MC covers their mouth, waiting for the demon to walk away.

The chat is freaking out, offering to call the emergency line, or call out to other ghost hunters and exorcists. However, MC is simply shaking their head, quietly waiting for a sign that it’s safe.

The footsteps never started again, could the demon have vanished?

They don’t sense a presence near…it’s deadly quiet.

“Do you think he left…?” They whisper, both to themselves and the chat.

They open the door of the cabinet for a tiny bit and squint their eyes to find any movement. It remains silent and they wait for a few minutes more, just to be sure, before crawling out of the cabinet.

“What in the fucking Outlast is this? Do you all know who the fuck we just summoned?!” They hiss, crawling towards the door.

“I have no idea what type of summoning spell Solomon’s been chanting, but it is hella fuckin’ terrifying…”

“MC love, please present yourself at the front desk...”

The speaker has turned on out of nowhere and MC almost jumped out of their skin at the booming voice through the speaker.

“I have a surprise for you.”

That does not sound like a very happy sunshine and rainbows with flying unicorns type of surprise. And worse of all, the front desk is their basecamp.

“I still have enough battery…I can hold out a little longer…there’s no way I’m going there. I have to find a way to banish the demon back to hell…but I need Solomon for that. Fuck…I have no idea where he is….no, no, no, no, I can’t call him, I’ll give away his hiding spot, I’m sure he is still alive…” MC ponders for a while, reading the chat to see if there is anyone with a solution.

“Just climb out of the window.”

“Go to the roof.”

“Summon one of the demons you made a pact with.”

“Call authorities.”

“Seduce him.”

“Make a pact with the demon.”

MC is shaking their head and they sit down to lean against the door.

“You guys…we’re up against one of the highest ranking demons…you think me acting like a hoe is gonna do the trick?!” They whisper in disbelief.

“Lmao you’re a hoe for Satan and that worked.”

“Solomon is that you?! Where are you?”

“The Devildom.”

“Don’t fuck with me you little bitch, I swear to god when this is over I’m going to feed your ass to Ceberus.”

“Lol try me hoe.”

MC is about to throw another comment when the speaker crackles, before the heavy voice speaks again, addressing them by their name.

“Let’s play a game of hide and seek then. I will leave you alone if I can’t find you in thirty minutes, but if I win…well…your soul is mine.” A maniacal laughter erupts right after the demon spoke and MC feels chills running down their spine.

A game of hide and seek with your life on the line. Thirty minutes to stay out of the demon’s claws. Thirty minutes to survive.

At this point MC is praying to the angels to come and save them. They have met and seen many types of demons, nice ones, mean ones, some evil, some neutral, most of them just existing for the sake of it. And demons are not all that scary when they take a more humane form, but their true forms can be more intimidating, especially the higher ranking demons. They can shift back and forth and they have seen the seven brothers in their demon forms, but the more a demon gives in their nature, the less they look like a normal human. And at this point, MC does not know if the demon is in his actual form or his humane form. Just the thought and feeling of being hunted is terrifying enough for them.

“If I want to survive…I need to find Solomon first…”

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