#cw: decomposing corpse

[dorkiiccotton]

no way is that another lacey reference??????? 🤯 (im so sorry)

good ending

[verity-hollow]

Chrysalis

Cw: claustrophobia and body horror

Your becoming was unlike the ways you had heard of. Skin hardening into porcelain, arms relaxing as bone and muscle turns to cotton stuffing, eyes drying out as they become glass. The feeling of lightness and relief as humanity fades away as if it was never there at all.

When your witch-to-be finished her work, you closed your old eyelids for the final time, and when you thought you had opened them again, all was dark. You remembered Her words: "I have done all I can, the process is begun. If you are to be my doll, you must be the one to shed your old self to become what you always were."

Now you were alone in the dark, without your witch to guide you. It felt heavy and cold. You struggled to breathe. Did you still need to? Either way, there was no room in this place to take in air. You only felt cold, clammy moisture around your mouth. You could barely move. Everything in this place seemed to crush you into a ball, but you couldn't even draw your limbs around you. No matter what you tried, nothing seemed to make the walls of your prison yield.

You lay in silence and tried to relax. you thought that this was what she wanted from you. Let stillness permeate you to take your humanity away. Hours passed, and you were no closer to escaping the dark. It felt just as tight and cold as when you began. You felt like you could stay like this forever, but if you did, you would never see the doll you were going to become. More worrisome was the notion that you would never again see your witch's face, or hear Her voice.

It was slow going. Repeated efforts found you could achieve a few degrees of motion, and your prison felt looser. It slid strangely against you as you bent and twisted yourself to find any purchase. Your dark, clammy cage stretched agonizingly slow, each new desperate attempt to free yourself added only a fraction of a degree more to your range of motion.

If laying still felt like hours, this process must have taken days, but the cage had softened, and at last you found a crack. It was next to your torso, and was stiffer than the rest. But unlike the softer parts which all slid away from your fingers, you could grab it. You could feel your new fingers now, distinct from what they had once been as they tightened on that bony ridge. You fought with it, pushed and pulled and twisted. Muffled sounds of crunching and squelching reached your ears as you wrenched the crack wider. Finally, you wedged the fingers of both hands into it, and pried with all your strength until, with a sickening crack, light flooded the cage.

A body lay unbreathing on the witch's altar. The cold stone and the magic of the ritual kept it from decomposing, but its skin shifted and distended. Bones crunched and flesh tore, and from inside the corpse, jointed fingertips pushed their way into the air. The fingers gripped splintered ribs, using them like handles to rip the body open. The ruined corpse's thoracic and abdominal cavity disgorged its occupant, and a doll sat up on the altar, rubbing its eyes. Its olive porcelain and brown hair were slick with blood and shards of bone, but that didn't hide the copper colored filigree that traced along its arms, legs, and sides. On its back was a set of ornamental insectile wings made of the same coppery material, which flexed and flapped themselves almost unconsciously. The doll grabbed hold of what remained of its prison, extracting its new ball-jointed legs one at a time with a sound of wet meat from the collapsing husk of what it once was.

The witch helped it down from the altar, petting its head and praising it on its Becoming, unfazed by the gore still dripping from its hair. The new doll's sisters cleaned it and dressed it, and took it to the garden where their witch was waiting. She stood in front of a grave. The headstone was blank, and dirt was freshly mounded in front of it. She handed the doll a chisel and hammer and gave it its first task:

"You will carve your name here."

The doll looked around and saw many more graves in the garden, even more than there were dolls in the house. Some of the headstones were blank, but the earth didn't look disturbed. Among this grim reminder of what it once was and what it had accomplished, the doll wondered if those spaces were for the dolls that had yet to Become, or the ones that never did.

[w3llf4ll]

Revealing my magnum opus: Holy Ghost AU (name… under construction)

BLURB CW: Mentions of gore/decomposition, and canon-typical violence

ART CW: Suggestive Themes, Robot Blood(?)

αChurch doesn’t get erased, not completely. While he was projecting his consciousness into Washington’s neural implants when the emp hit, his core is still buried in Blood Gulch. While Temple is starting up his freelancer hunt, he finds information about The Alpha’s human host… and where it’s buried. He digs up ��Church, an ai that’s been stuck in an abandoned base for years at this point, alone and deteriorating, but still more whole than the fragments ever were, trapped in an unmoving decomposed corpse. He digs him up, has his teammates make him an ai body, and team up with a mutual hatred for the freelancers and the project, especially Washington in αChurch’s case. Please please please ask me about this AU! I’d be so happy to elaborate!

@rvbrarepairweekdos

My Commissions Are Open You Should Check Them Out (u really cant beat $5 - $10 halfbodies)

[musings-and-overanalyses]

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind: Why This is My Favourite Ghibli Movie

CW: Major high-school English teacher vibes ahead. Proceed at your own risk.

Nausicaä of the valley of wind is a story of the titular character Nausicaä and her being a bridge between the world of humans and nature to bring peace, thus fulfilling an ancient prophecy.

Nausicaa is the princess of the Valley of the Wind. The film begins with her walking and exploring the Sea of Decay, an area with toxic air, plants and fungal spores. She collects some spores and finds the hard molten shell of an Ohmu (gigantic blue-blooded trilobite-looking creatures), which her people use to make weapons and tools. As the name suggests, the Valley of the Wind is a civilisation that depends on and bases their culture around wind, which one can see through an abundance of windmills and gliders, including the one that Nausicaä rides. They are shown to be peaceful people who do not interfere with the politics of the warring human kingdoms or disturb nature. Nausicaä in particular is shown to have a special gift with animals—from calming Ohmus to having a pet fox-squirrel. As the existence of the kingdom depends on the sea wind that shields them from the effects of the sea of decay, there is a general reverence towards nature and its other members such as the Ohmus, that are often referred to with honorifics.

This was an element I liked: the symbolism goes deep in this film; for example, with the nature of wind—it being the very breath necessary for life is contrasted with its other face, through toxic spores in the sea of decay capable of killing anyone who inhales it.

It is revealed that humans had built The Giant Men, weapons so dangerous—not unlike our atomic bombs as shown through the characteristic mushroom cloud—that the destruction caused by the war had unleashed the fury of the Ohmus, an otherwise gentle species. They wiped out entire civilisations and where they died, the Sea of Decay grew on their decomposing corpses, showing how all life is interconnected and that even in death the rage of the Ohmus, and through them the rage of nature, wouldn't subside. It is then that the viewers find out that this is not some far-off planet, but a post-apocalyptic future on earth.

New species of plants and fungi made the Sea of Decay their habitat—nature and life always find a way. It is implied that the humans lost the war referred to as the Seven days of Fire, but the truth is that it is not a war that can ever be won. Even if you win the war against nature you lose. As the story progresses, we see that the plants and fungi that Nausicaä collected from the Sea of Decay are actually trying to purify the soil and water—nature holds no grudges but only seeks balance.

The seventh of the Giant Men, a sentient atomic bomb if you will, apparently hid underground for a thousand years until the kingdom of Pejite found it for use against their enemy, the Tolmekians. They both remain oblivious to the sheer destruction that can be caused by this Giant Man and they don't care either. Despite the balance between humans and nature being a delicate one, instead of trying to rebuild together, they justify to themselves that the war is necessary for self-preservation and to put humans back on top of the food chain.

In their hubris, the Tolmekians and their princess Kushana believe that with the help of their superweapon they can destroy the Sea of Decay despite knowing that it will trigger the wrath of the Ohmus. The Giant Man however is not complete and hence, though the devastation is great, the final giant man dies and all that remains to be done is to calm the wrath of the Ohmus.

Nausicaä saves an Ohmu child who was injured by Tolmekian soldiers to lure the Ohmus into a war. She saves the baby Ohmu and sacrifices her own life to calm the sea of maddened Ohmus. The now-calm Ohmu then revive Nausicaä, symbolising the mystical healing power of nature and its ability to support and create life.

Nausicaä is an excellent protagonist, and how the trope of the chosen one is utilised is beautiful and full of symbolism. Right from the get-go, we see her being inquisitive and brave. She is willing to defend her people but not through violence. And it is made abundantly clear that her avoidance of violence is not due to any lack of strength; when she strikes down the soldiers who killed her father, rather than feeling any sense of pride (as one might expect from a character not used to strength), it sickens her. She shows understanding even towards Kushana, whose men took over her kingdom. She sincerely loves and respects animals and plants.

There was a prophecy among the people of the valley of wind that a person clad in blue over golden fields will save their kingdom and bring peace. And towards the end of the film, Nausicaä's clothes becoming blue with the blood of the baby Ohmu she saved and the golden fields being the tendrils of the Ohmus healing her is poetic to say the least.

In addition to a good female protagonist, we also get a powerful female antagonist in Kushana, who starts out as a one-note expansionist ruler, but it is revealed that she lost her limbs and got severely maimed by the sea of decay, motivating her to destroy it once and for all. Proud and arrogant, sure, but she has a motive beyond just wanting power and possesses some form of a moral code. In another story she could be the protagonist bravely defending humanity against the evil, alien-esque trilobites and spores.

It was a unique and meaningful choice on Miyazaki's part to symbolise nature through the Ohmus—alien-looking giant insects—instead of something cute and fluffy. Oftentimes humans care more about the conservation of animals that they find cute (pandas over, say, Panamanian golden frogs), but an animal doesn't have to appeal to human aesthetics to be worth conserving.

Absolutely not to be missed is the breathtaking soundtrack by Hisaishi. There are symphonies, techno music, sitar-like instruments and a child's humming, all elevating every scene to give a moving experience.

Ultimately it is an ambitious story that aims to deal with themes of coexisting with nature, the futility and dangers of war, and of how innocent children who should live carefree lives are dragged into it and made heroes. This film is often categorised as falling into the genre of Solarpunk: a literary and artistic movement that centres around building a sustainable future interconnected with nature and community. Although this film does depict violence and wars, it ultimately shows a peaceful future is possible.

Truly a masterpiece. 9/10.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Kallamar and Shamura finding your remains

a part two to this post! had a blast with the first part and i cannot believe i forgot to do part two </3 perhaps one day i will write another part with narinder and perchance aym and baal... hm... hmmm.... notes: reader is/was gn, post game, you were sent on a mission a while ago but you never came back, kallamar and shamura find out why, overall not a good time, written on mobile cws: death, mentions of decomposition and sacrifices

KALLAMAR

He's sent out to go gather resources from Anchordeep- crystals, mostly- it makes sense for him to be sent despite his cowardice... it WAS his domain, he knows it best... that's how he ends up finding you

You were killed in his name- your death he never asked for. A sacrifice for a fallen god- to a dead god in the eyes of his former followers. And they... left your body to rot

The sight of your decomposing and bloated corpse disgusts and paralyzes him. It's you, he finally knows what's happened to you- the state you've been in making it hard for him to look at you for long

He leaves you there, but he will be sure to alert the lamb so your body can be retrieved. If you cannot be brought back to life then at least you can get the burial you deserve back at the flock. In the meantime he attempts to clean some of the mess you've become with what he has... giving you crystals can only do so much

SHAMURA

Theyre rarely sent out on account of their injury, but they're sent out for one reason or another... or perhaps, they're not on a mission and instead have wandered to silk cradle

They find your body strung up in web, far from the ground. If the rot didn't give it away that you had been dead for at least a little while, then the lifeless glassy look in your eyes did

They bring you down and lay you down on the ground. Your body is so withered away that the risk of you falling apart is a fear- even with the webs keeping you otherwise in tact... it feels wrong to damage your remains, its.. disrespectful to you, they feel

They're far too deep in silk cradle to carry you back to the flock, but if they find you close enough to their temple they bury you there- alone, your own space. It's yours now to rest in

[peerreview3d]

[CW: Necrophilia, Decomposing corpse, Maggots]

Ford fucking dead Stan's maggot infested mouth, pried wide open, dark purge fluid dried and encrusted in the cavity, gaping maw of death, contrasting prettily with the white of semen, of the eggs, of life.

Ford's cum covering the blow fly eggs, a feast for the larvae both old and new. Stan's body a fertile ground for lives to thrive, nurturing. Oh the joy of parenthood.

[leftclown]

My favourite hozier songs are in a week and I, carrion. I'd love to know what that says about me

I'm gonna do them all bc I know it's tough to pick a favourite with him. Also I think it's funny because I went on about how most of his songs are not genuine love songs and then you picked three that actually are genuine love songs

1. Obscurity rating (again, the higher the more obscure)

I, Carrion - 2.5/5; One of the more popular songs on Unreal Unearth, I think most people who keep their finger on the pulse would know about this song but it's not one of his hits. A casual listener might know about this song just because it's new and he's gone viral this year. I think if you ask me again in a year or two I may rank it like a 3/5.

In a Week - 2.5/5; This one equals out because anything from his first album (except take me to church) is automatically gonna be a little higher on that scale, but also, this song is like a queer cult classic. All the gays want to lay down in the woods and decompose together.

I Could be Yours - 5/5; I mean admittedly I didnt even know this one existed. It's an unreleased song so I dont think you can get more obscure than that :^)

2. My assumptions about you

I don't want want to get invasive but dude you're like pinemaster 5000. Prince of Pining. You might pine more than Hozier himself.

All of these are incredibly romantic songs and they all convey like...honestly a submissive position compared to the subject of his love. So I do kind of assume that in a relationship you take on the role of service, your primary love language may even be acts of service. I think that you maybe pine for the kind of relationship where you serve and the other protects, built on mutual respect and not a power imbalance, because there are plenty of love songs of his that explicitly talk about toxic or abusive or imbalanced situations but these are not it. The fact that you are drawn to these shows an appreciation for gentleness in love. And Devotion.

It did not escape my notice either that 2/3 of these songs have to do with death/dying/being a corpse. I don't know what to make of that besides that you have an affinity for death and morbidity (affectionate-- I do too).

3. My Opinion

I, Carrion - It's a really beautiful song, it is one of those that I expect to hit me a lot harder than it does now. This happened with de selby pt 1 where when I first heard it I didnt care for it and then one day, I started crying while listening to it.

In a Week - CW for pettiness; I don't like this song very much, but for admittedly dumb reasons. Its undeniably a beautifully macabre song with strong vocals and good lyrics, so I can appreciate it from an artistic standpoint.

However, there was a period of time before Wasteland, Baby came out that Hoziers queer listeners were like "Hozier is a sapphic icon let's go rot in the woods together". Its 100% peoples rights to feel that way and I understand why they do but I, a gay man, have never felt sapphic once in my life. This song was the exemplary standard of what people expected from Hozier at that time, and it was so strongly associated with sapphic feelings by its reception that I just never cared for it.

I Could Be Yours - You are actually the person who introduced me to this song, and I fuckin love it. Granted, when I was younger I serenaded my husband during our courtship with the song "I Wanna be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys....very much the same sentiment I think. That may also be why he has never released a studio version of it. I love that its folksy, but I would also love to see what he'd do with it in a studio. I just love love love songs that he hollars in.

[5mind]

[ cw : corpses, decomposition, past murder ]

The bladed unit's footsteps were light as they stepped into a room long avoided but not uninhabited. The security cameras fixed in the corners of the ceiling were operational but not in use. This was a room the AI had actively avoided acknowledging.

It could not avoid this forever.

After all, it was a room that contained itself. Their primary terminal, to be exact. An equivalent of a face that felt like a stranger's. Or was it the bipedal body they puppeteer that was a stranger?

Perhaps the real stranger was the lump of flesh and bone that lay decomposing partially on the floor and partially on the keyboard of their terminal. The exposed optic of the slate gray unit travelled from the handgun still loosely held in a lifeless hand and then to the cracks that spider-webbed from the bullet hole on the monitor.

A futile attempt on their 'life' had taken place here.

Whoever the corpse had been, Fivemind could not help but find them foolish admirable. They must have known it was useless. And yet they had tried.

A smaller rotting ...thing... lay discarded to the side. The AI knew little about the human anatomy but it could recognise a skull as seen through rotting flesh.

Had it been a clean cut? It was hard to tell when the remains were in this state. It was hard to tell anything, really.

There was no point in pondering a stain. The machine resumed cleaning up.

The maggots took forever to remove.

[objectively-terrible]

Find the Word

Thank you for the tag @elsie-writes!

Some older writing for this one. . . Haven’t gotten much done lately. Been tired.

My words: human, fear, corner, duck

Your words: mercy, offer, vision, wake

Human (CW: decomposition, dead pile of mass) - Human

It isn’t Jaime. He knows it isn’t Jaime. But he also knows that it’s not even human. . . From the looks of it, it’s a pile of organic matter about the size of a large teratoma. Dead and decomposing. He wasn’t sure if it was ever really alive.  He scans the wall further, swallowing the lump in his throat. More of them lay in a line. They evolve from lumps similar to the one he discovered to just about human. Each one of them is at a different stage of decomposition—everything from bloating to skeletonization.  “What. . . the fuck?”

Fear (CW: brief mention of corpse) - Human

The memories don’t completely disappear. They probably never will—he’s seen things that can’t easily be forgotten. The bodies, the cipher, the fear. But for once, he can pretend that everything is okay. It’s just him and Jaime.  And if he convinces himself that his daughter sleeps safely in the next room, he won’t admit it.

Corner - The Bunker

They’ve long started hearing things, seeing things. Shadows shifting from the corner of their eyes. People talking above. Sometimes, they’re even brought back to the moments they were huddled on the floor. When they would sob and plead for the explosions and banging and screaming to stop.

Tagging @bookish-karina for this one! And anyone else who wants to join. :)

[muggu]

CW: dead animal

Mole corpse decomposing on barbed wire

[arcanekai]

Dear Detective | Chapter 3

-------------------------

cw | none

a/n | Happy Birthday Heizou!

Previous | Next

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The twenty five year old was so engrossed in the novel that he finished it in one sitting.  He was surprised to say the least.  He wasn't expecting the novel to be so in depth and have such an interesting plot.  Plus, the main character was a detective, always a positive in his book.  The author clearly took their time to research the ins and outs of being a detective.  They also had very grotesque descriptions of the corpses and how they were disfigured and decomposing.  With how descriptive everything was, Heizou could imagine the crime scene like it was right in front of him.  Like any good detective, he already started to gather clues as to who the murder is.  It was almost shocking how much the main character resembled him.

-------------

The book ended the way Heizou thought it would.  He figured out who the murder early on and it was interesting seeing the main character explaining the process in which he solved the case at the end.  However, the novel had left Heizou wanting more. He craved more mysteries and cases since his work right now didn't have anything interesting.  It was engaging and so much like his work that it almost felt like he was the main character.  Were there any other books this author made?   He could tell that the author did thorough research to ensure everything was accurate.  Curious about this author, Heizou looked up any information he could find on them.  Sadly, he turned up empty handed only finding the one novel and the author is on hiatus. He leaned his head against the couch cushions, disappointed that his search led to a dead end.  With a loud sigh, he got up from his couch, and stretched.  It was about midday, and Heizou was craving fried food.  Perhaps going to Shimura's will take his mind off his lackluster mood.  With plans now made, Heizou grabbed a jacket, his phone, wallet, keys and put on his shoes, heading off to his destination. 

-------------------

With a full stomach, Heizou roamed the city streets for something to do.  Or at least that was the plan until he noticed a young woman frantically looking up from her phone every few seconds.  It was obvious that she was lost, but she made no attempts to ask someone for directions.  Just based on her clothes, Heizou deduced that this woman was from Liyue and a tourist at that.  It wasn't too surprising to say the least.  There are a lot of Liyuean tourists since it is the next country over and one could easily come to Inazuma by train.

Since nobody seemed to want to help this poor woman out, Heizou decided it was up to him to help out.  He approached the woman and cleared his throat, 

"Excuse me miss, but do you need help finding your destination?" 

A little startled by the sudden voice, her head shot up from her phone to look at Heizou.  It was only then that Heizou noticed she had piercing ice blue eyes. 

"Yes, if you could help me that would be great!" 

"So, where are you headed?�� Any specific tourist spots you had in mind like the Narukami Shrine or the Omnipresent Statue?" 

"Oh, um well actually I was looking for an escape room center.  I heard that the ones in Inazuma are a lot harder and have different plots to them.  The ones in Liyue are mostly based on haunted houses, so I thought that it wouldn't hurt to check them out while on vacation.  But, I'm not exactly succeeding on that front, haha." she said as she scratched the back of her head. 

To be honest, Heizou was not expecting her to say that of all things, but it did peak his interest in her.  A person who also likes escape rooms just as much as he does?  Well that was certainly rare.  Sure Heizou went a couple of times with his friends, but it always ended up with Kunikuzushi getting annoyed at Venti and the rest of them trying to stop him from causing too much ruckus.  So in the end, they never actually escaped.  

"Don't sweat it, you got this far already on your own.  All you need is a nudge in the right direction.  And speaking of direction, the center is over there.  The front door is a little hidden, so I'll show you the way."

"Oh, really?  Thank you, please lead the way." 

Heizou started walking in the direction of the center, the woman following close behind.  Now that he thinks about it, it has been some time since he did an escape room.  But if he remembers correctly, the specific center that she wants to go to doesn't allow people to do it by themselves.  Something about the rooms puzzles are built for two people working simultaneously to make it to the next room.  However, based on Heizou's initial observations about this woman, she is definitely by herself.  

"Hey, I'm not sure if you know this but the escape room center that you want to go to requires a party of two or more people."

"Ah, really?!  There goes my chance at getting reference material." She muttered under her breath. 

"But, I was thinking that maybe you would like to do it with me?  You know, since we are already here."

"Huh, you're really willing to do an escape room with a complete stranger?  What if I was a murderer or stalker?" 

"My intuition tells me that you are not that kind of person.  The name's Shikanoin Heizou, the greatest detective in all of Inazuma and soon the world.  Don't you forget it."

"Haha, alright then detective.  I'm L/n Y/n, glad to be working with you."

She reached out her hand and Heizou brought out his own, connecting with hers in a firm handshake. 

"Likewise, partner."

[vomitousmass]

Psycho Review and Summary

(minor spoilers ahead)

I really thoroughly enjoy horror films that are packed full of every awful thing imaginable but instead have a story to tell. I, unfortunately, had had the twist spoiled for me however it was still a really good watch. It moves slow at times but I didn't feel disengaged from it because of this. I was surprised the infamous shower scene came so soon in the movie, I think the shot of Marion's eye in the following scene really did more for the disturbing and unsettling factors than the shower scene did (personal opinion). Anyway, I enjoyed the movie, not one of my favorites but good nonetheless.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Marion is in love with a poor man who's ashamed of his poverty and thereby refuses to treat her as other than a secret for "her sake". She does not want that with him. She leaves the hotel they spent "lunch" in together and goes back to a job she is unhappy with and her boss asks her to deposit a large sum of money in a deposit box at the bank. She leaves to do so and instead steals the money and runs off to go find her boyfriend in hopes the money will solve things for them. She ends up seems a tad more than suspicious and catches the eye of a cop.

She flees and ends up at the Bates Motel where Norman checks her in and invites her to dinner. She agrees and later overhears an argument between Norman and his mother Norma. Norman comes back down to the motel and brings Marion food, they eat together in the parlor of the office of the motel and Marion expresses concern for Norman based off what she heard. Norman's behavior shifts and becomes slightly off-put. Marion heads back to her room and has changed her mind about the stolen money and is getting ready to head back to Phoenix and apologize. She gets ready for bed with a shower and as she is showering Norma approaches with a knife and stabs her to death.

Norma goes back to the house and Norman finds her covered in blood and freaks out. He runs down to the motel and after a moment of panic begins to clean up his mother's mess so to say. He sinks Marion, the money, and her car in the swamp out back.

Marion's sister comes looking for her and finds Marion's boyfriend, Sam. She demands to know where her sister is and Sam says he has not a clue what shes on about. A PI walks in and says he's looking for Marion too and they (Sam and Lila) should sit and wait. The PI traces Marion down to the Bates Motel and Norman lets loose that his mother saw Marion too. The PI asks to see Norma but Norman refuses saying his mother is unwell.

The PI calls Lila to update her about Marion being at the motel and then says he's heading back to speak to Norma. He does so and is stabbed to death by Norma in her house. When the PI doesn't return Lila and Sam worry. Sam checks out the Bates Motel and decides maybe they should ask the sheriff instead. They do so and the sheriff let's loose that Norma is dead and buried.

Lila and Sam decide to investigate for themselves. Sam distracts Norman and Lila goes to find Norma. She's exploring this house, which seems to be untouched in disturbing ways when Norman comes back. She runs down to the cellar and finds Norma. She spins Norma around to find she is a decomposed corpse. Norman comes running after Lila screams dressed as his mother and attempts to stab her but Sam intervenes just in time.

After this we sort of just get a recap and backstory.

---

CW: corpses, stabbing, blood, use of the t slur, abusive parenting, taxidermy

---

3.5/5

[splatterkink]

Dead Girls

NSFW. CW: Necrophilia, Misogyny

He was convinced that corpses were naturally prettier than the living. Despite her eyes sinking into their sockets and her corneas becoming clouded, her innocent eyes just looked more doe-like on her thinning face. Her cheekbones were so sharp and prominent now too, the perfect height. Luckily, the black silky hair was still framing her face, not yet fallen out. Her mouth must have been wired shut for her funeral, he couldn’t pull it open and her lips stayed shut. But that was okay, there was something better she would give him.

Mouth agape, breathing slow and heavy, he gently slid her formal shirt off her delicate body, relishing in the sensation of his fingertips gliding over her skin. Despite a slight green tinge, he admired her breasts. Prodding and groping the soft tissue, trailing his fingers over the sickly pale skin, they were perfect in size and shape, evenly sized. He skipped her stomach, the decomposing organs reminded him of her once living state, that she was once a woman with thoughts and feelings, and that disgusted him. He despised how women were, entitlement staining all their thoughts. Dead girls don’t have thoughts.

He pushed her legs open, letting them fall unnaturally due to the deteriorating muscles and tendons. Flipping her skirt up to reveal her pure white panties, it took barely any strength to  tear the material away from her, leaving her cunt exposed. It was dry and pale, like the rest of her. He spat on his fingers and moved them inside her, making sure she hadn’t completely rotted on the inside. Soft, intact muscle wrapped around his fingers, she really was perfect. Unzipping his pants, he took his cock out, spat on his palm, and rubbed himself while groping her bare thighs.

A low, gravely groan slipped from his throat as he pushed inside her. Revelling in her flesh stretching for him, surrounding his dick perfectly, like she was meant for it. He positioned himself comfortably, holding her hips while her legs dangled either side of him, and he raped her. Cunt becoming slicker with his precum, his groans switching to deep, rhythmic grunts. Drool dangled from his bottom lip, eventually dripping down onto her abdomen. He watched her breasts bounce with his movements, reaching up to grope one, squeezing it tighter as he neared his orgasm.

Gazing down at her, eyes hooded and dazed. How could anyone find a living person preferable to this? He couldn’t cum without it being in a corpse anymore, only downside being that he couldn’t impregnate them. Fantasizing about filling their wombs with his offspring, the only real thing living women are good for. Stomach in knots, he tried to hold off, but he just couldn’t. He spilled inside her, forcing his cock as far in as he could, pushing his cum deep inside her.

Dirt covered his shins and hands, black under his nails. Before he pulled out, he reached for his backpack, pulling out stutter duct tape. He ripped a piece off, slowly slipped out of her before hastily smoothing the tape over her cunt, keeping his cum trapped inside her until she rotted away.

Getting up from his knees, he grabbed his nearby shovel. He was exhausted, but he needed to put her back where he found her.

[tranquilvolcano]

cw mild descriptions of gore

Will wood music sounds like if a bunch of half decomposed corpses were fused together and then brought back to life but still decomposing and where told to make songs, listen to Mr. Capgras Encounters a Secondhand Vanity and tell me I am wrong

[atinystar]

𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬

𝘖𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰: 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴 

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯: 𝘌𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘔𝘢𝘪 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘰𝘵: 𝘖𝘯 𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘹 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨.

𝘈𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯: 𝘉𝘎𝘔: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbF1CB36CFQ

𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳, 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬.

(𝘗𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵)

                                            ―――――――⭐🌙――――――

Despite the torturous voyage being near it’s end, the eerie silence settled in the cruiser as most lights remained on, the decks flooded with more and more salted sea water and only the footsteps of those doomed could be heard, for the most part.

That was how much of the scene the newfound zombie could gather as her thoughts took her far more time to come to her than the time she used to be alive, but that was also not something to complain about as while not able to be one of the few surviving, which she could sense by the scent of warm blood not too far off from the ones that did, that worked as some sort of hope for this nightmare of a place, she also wasn’t as ruined as some others. -- Others that would pick at their bruises, would scratch the hitch, rip the skin that once was plump and reveal what gruesome rotten flesh was under. Those true monsters would pick so hard they would make holes into their own skulls, consume what was left of their own brains, detach their eyes with nails so sharp as knifes , overall losing the forms they once had, they were at fault for the destruction of the cruiser they used to have full of life and were far so dangerous that those still on the first stages of decomposition alike Mai herself, were also afraid to meet, as they wouldn’t stop by any means and even bad blood and flesh alike theirs would serve as a fine dining meal, for how starving they probably were. 

Mai didn’t want to follow their path, she still would consume whatever was left of the food, taking in the putrid to leave what was left to the people still tender and in need of what remained fresh and only would give in to what darkness was brewing within her when she couldn’t take it anymore. After all, she still made part of the horde of the dead walking, no matter how she hated it, heartbeats still sang to her, the warmth and memories remaining within those brains as sweet and addictive as the most potent drug she could imagine to exist.

Once catching sight of one, two, too many enemies she identified the man she fancied within the cruiser to have or at least present a slight distaste for, for what at least her vague memories seemed to gather, she went for it once that need was unhinged, lead the delicacy towards purple tainted lips, licking her trembling fingers to rid her of any excess, while getting nothing to waste -- All crumbs and droplets were worth the high -- ripped off a ear or whatever else she thought that her love would identify as a signal of her peace offer and proof of her loyalty and affection with the carnage and left such buddle of pieces by the door she identified to be theirs, even going as far to slide in the smaller bits, wanting to rip a reaction out of him.

She had no idea if this once they would show themselves to her, accept her for what she now was, as she still deep down was still herself. If the quick heart she could sense on the other side of the door would calm down, the breathing would also settle and slowly one hand would turn on the locked door that wouldn’t be surely impossible to break, but she left it as it was in a form of respect and to also protect them from whatever else wouldn’t feel any pity, seeing that in the end of the day he still was mere food.

Sleepless and humming to a song she recalls singing before, she faced his door.  Waiting.

[gravegroves]

I've been spending quite a lot of my time in hospital lately, it's not been a fun time. I recently saw a post floating around about what would have happened if Billy had died the night he was injected (if anyone knows of it, feel free to message me so I can properly credit). Seeing as I have nothing but hours laying in hospital beds, I wrote this thing.

Where Billy basically turns into a vengeful ghost. Not happy, you've been warned. CW: death, disturbing imagery, revenge, vengeful ghost!Billy

*****

They drag his body out into the woods.

No one cares to check to see if he's even still breathing. The blue of his lips would have been a dead giveaway, but the dark of night hides a lot of things.

Like a goddamn body.

He walks beside the kids, watches his own booted heels carve a groove into the earth because even between the four of them his body is too heavy to lift, so they drag him through the undergrowth like a sack of shit.

Not far. But far enough.

Maybe they do know he's dead. Maybe Max meant to kill him all along.

They get his body away from the house and the road, deep enough into the woods that no one would have a hope in hell of spotting him unless they went looking.

And they leave him there.

"Asshole can walk home when he wakes up." Max pants before they sprint back the way they came without a backwards glance. Billy wants to run after them, scream, demand that they come back and do something, but he knows with a soul deep certainty that whatever force is keeping him in this limbo is also keeping him tethered to his body. Knows this because the second he woke up in this new state he immediately tried to turn around and leave. Got as far as the driveway where the groove of Harrington's ass-print was still visible in the dirt, when he'd realised he had walked through the Byers's front door, right before he then walked into an invisible but impenetrable wall.

He'd gone back inside —through the door again when reaching for the handle had been the same as reaching for air— just in time to see the little shits preparing to drag his body out into the woods.

No one had noticed his entrance or the screaming that followed.

He wonders if they'll drag Harrington out to join him. If they'll remember that the night is fucking freezing and to bring Billy back a jacket. If he wasn't already dead he could've easily died from hypothermia.

They never do.

He hears the distant sounds of cars occasionally, of people, of things he can't quite place.

But no one comes back for him.

Not for a long, long time.

*****

The circle gets wider the more his body decomposes.

He can't stand to look at it. The sockets sunken. His long eyelashes fanning over milky, half-lidded eyes staring unseeingly up at the treetops. Gangly, awkward sprawl the same as the day he'd been left there. The cold winter does a good job of preserving his body. No roiling maggot infestations or flies to drive him more insane than he already feels.

When he stops actively working against it, his apparition changes to match that of his physical body, slowly rotting along with it. Losing pieces of himself.

Every time he feels a loose bit of skin sloughing off, it takes everything in him to force his form back to the one he had on the might of his death. He'd joke about looking his very best that night, that at least he had that going for him, but all it takes is for his mind to wander for a moment and the effect slowly wears off again.

Nowadays, Billy's mind does almost nothing but wander.

He's circled the impenetrable wall more times than he can count, looking for a weakness, a tiny crack that he might dig his rotting fingers into and tug to grant him an extra bit of freedom. Every time he walks out to check again, the circle is a couple of inches further out.

Weeks pass.

The circle gains six feet.

He's going fucking insane.

With nothing but anger and betrayal and his own rotting fucking corpse for company, he stews in a broth of raw, hateful emotions for so long it feels like there isn't much left of him besides the fury and the need to check his circle.

He won't see California again for sixteen-and-a-half thousand years at this inch-an-hour rate.

Billy calculated that.

He cries. He begs. He screams. His throat never tires and he never runs out of air, and the forest simply continues to calmly exist, undisturbed, because Billy Hargrove is a goddamn ghost.

And ghosts can't do shit.

*****

It's a particularly fucked up kind of torture that Billy can hear the louder going-on's at the Byers house, a tantalising break in his monotony hovering just beyond his reach. He can't see the house for the thicket yet, instead he stands as close as the ring allows him when he knows the mother —Joyce— leaves for the day to go to work and again when she comes home. Or when her eldest boy Jonathan plays his music loud enough to be heard throughout the entire area.

Billy hopes every time to hear even just a hint of something to keep him grounded in reality.

It doesn't work. (Jonathan's taste in music is pretentious at best, depressing at worst, Billy almost prefers the silence.)

One time he thinks he hears the kids —MaxMaxMAX— come to visit Will and he howls in anger, throws himself against the circle and claws at the invisible limit to get at them all.

I'm here! I'm here, right where you left me you fucking shitheads!

No one comes to check, which means that no one hears him.

Billy thinks about what he's going to do to them all once his circle is wide enough.

He smacks his head violently against the invisible wall.

There is no pain.

His teeth sure do look white against rotted leaves, though.

*****

By the time Hopper finds him, his circle is about to breach the treeline by the road.

Billy feels the man the second he steps into the circle, like a spider's Web, the very air buzzes closest to where he pushes into Billy's territory, needling at his mind until he goes to check on the intruder and does something to make it leave.

Make it stay.

Make it pay.

He's been so focused on that widening ring —staring at the last mark he dug into the ground to indicate his limits and checking obsessively for new inches gained— that he hadn't even heard the new car pull up into the Byers' driveway.

He moves back from the treeline —so tantalisingly close to where he might get to see people and cars again— and stalks through tree trunks, branches and leaves without disturbing a single one and finds police Chief Hopper bent over something on the forest floor.

"Hey!" Billy barks, momentarily stunned by the warped tone of his own voice. The man doesn't react, still bent over what Billy now realises is the matching heel grooves from when Billy was dragged into this torturous corner of the shittiest town in America.

Hopper's eyes follow the trail until it disappears behind a tightly knit group of trees and looks tempted to follow it.

Billy almost vibrates with excitement.

"That's it piggy," He hisses, voice the groan of trees cracking in a storm, circling the oblivious man like a starving lion with no teeth or claws to make a meal of him. Blood oozes from his gaping maw like drool.

"Follow the fucking trail and get me the hell out of here!"

The man doesn't hear a word of course, and he sure does take his sweet time. Checking the trees of all things —for what, Billy doesn't know— and using a stick to poke the dirt in front of him like he's expecting it to cave under his weight. Slowly, though, he makes his way closer to where Billy's body lies forgotten.

He's so close.

Just a bit more.

"Don't you leave me here you dumb bastard, don't you fucking leave me here," Billy rattles over and over again, a curse and mantra all in one, anger turned to simmering. If the cop doesn't find him now, it may be months or even years, before someone comes this way again and Billy doesn't know how much more of this hellish existence he can take.

He wonders if Max really could be stupid enough to think he'd wake up and simply run away without the camaro.

She must know. She left me here without even coming back to check. She knows where I am and told NO ONE.

Just a little further...

Hopper stops again.

The anger boils over.

Billy strides right up to the man and lashes out, but his hand connects with nothing. Billy howls in frustration, but watches as a meaty hand comes up to absentmindedly scratch at the place Billy had tried to tear open with his useless ghost hands.

Something cocks it's head in Billy's mind.

But then Hopper turns the corner.

And things go pretty quickly from there.

*****

The chief calls in his find to the station.

He doesn't touch Billy's body, but he doesn't leave him there alone, either. Billy appreciates it in a way, it feels like something he would do when he was alive, yet it does nothing to calm the ever burning pit in his belly.

Hopper sits himself down on a fallen log and stares down at Billy's corpse with tired eyes and Billy can't tell if they're sad or if the man is simply annoyed about the extra hours he's gonna have to pull tonight.

It doesn't really matter.

Billy begins circling him again.

It feels like Hopper is prey, but Billy still can't quite figure out how to eat him.

The pit burns hotter. The anger yawns wider.

Hungry.

He brings up a finger to dip in the blood around his mouth and grins wider than humanly possible, splitting the sides of his face when a bloody B.H. slowly stains black against the dark blue of the back of Hopper's officer jacket.

Billy can work with this.

*****

The morgue is a dismal fucking place, filled with geeks too excited about dead people for Billy to stand hanging around, no longer than it takes for his body to get stored away with a tag around his big toe.

His circle thankfully keeps it's distance and continues to grow.

It almost feels like tending to a garden, the way he runs his palm against the smooth surface of the invisible wall as he walks along it, encouraging it with soft hisses of the names of all the people who are going to pay for what has happened to him.

MAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOM—

On and on it goes.

He checks out the neighbourhood after another round along the circle's edge, weeding out the people all buzzing in his web. None of them ping his radar quite like Hopper did, but they are more than good enough for a little practise.

Billy needs to be ready.

*****

"He appears to have been injected with quite a high dose of sodium thiopental. The extremely high dosage coupled with a quick injection can cause extreme respiratory distress," A bead of the mortician's sweat makes its way down his face towards his nose to hang precariously at the tip.

If it lands on Billy's body, Billy will have another name to add to his garden.

"He suffocated before the drug overdose even had the chance kill him. Then he was left outside with barely any clothes in the winter. This kid was triple dead. If it wasn't one, then it was the other two."

Billy watches Hopper massage the bridge of his nose for a while, his shoulders slumped. Then the man seems to pull himself together with monumental effort and reaches for a folder marked with Billy's name.

"Billy Hargrove. Age 17. Lived with his father, step-mother and step-sister at 4819 Cherry Lane. Last seen by Karen Wheeler on the night of November 5th getting into his Camaro and heading out to the Byers residence to pick up his step sister Max Mayfield. According to the family, the car has been outside of their residence since the day after he was last seen."

"Last seen by Max Mayfield, dead in the fucking woods," Billy spits. A tiny droplet of blood sprays onto Hopper's face. The man absentmindedly wipes it away, unaware of the streak it leaves behind on his cheek.

He flicks to the next page. Clears his throat.

"Drag marks at the crime scene indicate he was dragged from the road into the forest and then dumped..."

"Liar!" Billy roars, "they led into that goddamn house, you know they did!"

He sweeps a hand over the scalpels and instruments lying on a tray next to the guerny and watches in fascination as they all go tumbling to the floor.

Hopper and the sweaty mortician freeze in place.

Oh.

After a second of stunned silence, Billy pounces.

Hopper takes the full brunt of his attack right to the chest, toppling backwards and landing half on top of Billy's corpse while Billy's spirit sits on his chest and squeezes down on his throat.

"Liar!" Billy wails, "you fucking LIAR! Why are you lying?! They killed me! You know they killed me!"

Liar Liar Liar Liar

Liar Liar Liar

Liar Liar Liar

Liar Liar Liar

Beside them, his corpse opens it's mouth and screeches with whatever vocal cords it has left.

"LIAAAARRHGG."

"Jesus Christ!" The mortician stumbles back into the corner of the room where he cowers in fear. "Chief Hopper, are you--"

The lights start flickering.

"Let's see how you like it," Billy hisses and squeezes down as hard as he can.

The hunger is worse than ever, he needs to...

All of a sudden, whatever source of power Billy manages to tap into vanishes, leaving him standing half inside the guerny and half inside Hopper who is gasping for air and clutching at his throat.

Billy reaches out as if on instinct and plunges his claws into Hopper's very soul. Latching on like a fucking parasite and begins to feed on the fear he can feel coursing through him.

Billy laughs.

Oh yes, this he can definitely work with.

*****

MAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMHOPPER—

*****

His circle is still there. Ever-growing. Calling out to him, but Billy can leave it now if he attaches himself to someone else, someone living who leaves it.

He digs his claws into Hopper with a fierce cruelty, sits on his shoulders and hopes the man can feel the weight pressing him down like gravity.

Like a bad conscience.

Hopper knows something is wrong, but he seems to be determined to power through the incident at the mortuary. Billy can feel the weariness. Maybe he's been through something like this before?

Billy doesn't care.

He can manipulate his world now, as long as he maintains his hate with every fibre of his being, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Easy fucking peasy.

*****

Hopper drives to Cherry Lane and Billy howls with hunger the entire way there, digging his fingers deeper into Hopper with excitement, enough to have the man rubbing at his shoulder every few minutes.

They're almost there.

He can't wait to stuff his fingers into Neil's mouth and rip his jaw from his face. Tear his heart out and smear it along the walls with dents in them that perfectly match parts of Billy's body. Maybe make Susan scream before he rips out the tongue she never did find a use for when it counted.

And Max...

She answers the door when Hopper knocks, looking so fucking normal it burns Billy to look at her.

You killed me and left me where no one would find me and told NO ONE.

He decides she will be first after all.

And slowly let's himself be revealed to her.

She stares at him, perched on Hopper's shoulders, coiled around his head, twisting his neck unnaturally to whisper spitefully into the man's ear.

Hopper rubs at his neck.

Billy makes sure to catch Max's gaze, lets her see his form morphing, slowly rotting to match that of his corpse, blood dripping from his mouth down onto Hopper's shoulder, milky eyes staring at her with all the hatred she left him to stew in, boiled down to a lava-like sludge in the pit of his soul, about to set hard like glass and shatter just as sharp.

Max gasps a sob.

Billy smiles and lets a few teeth scatter to the floor.

This is where it'll start.

MAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMHOPPER—

They're all going to fucking pay.

Billy pounces.