thinking about Simon who just gets out of prison for murder after he's been locked up since he was 18, and starts working at a slaughterhouse for his parole. a big, scary dog who has bloodstains all over him, permanently crusted in the crease of his nails because he prefers field dressing over dragging the carcass inside the shop. who always smells of iron and sweat, and looms over you like he was trying to keep everyone else from looking at you. possessive, but you only know him from rumours and blog posts. his stare, the intense, hungry way he looks at you always gives you the creeps.
he's bad news. and he tries to woo you by feeding you meat from the animals he butchered (getting angry whenever you buy cuts from someone else), and won't go away even when you tell him to leave you alone. you've heard the rumours. read the news articles. nothing about this man is any good—
but he won't, of course. the thing about prison is that you need to hold onto the things that you have and take the stuff that you don't. a sort of cutthroat survival that has raised him better than his own mother. so, when he finds you (something he doesn't have, but wants), it's just in his nature to take.
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the Lovebug
I can finally present to you the rework of the lovebug variants! I've been trying hard between all the other things I had to do (artfight, streams, and other stuff like that) but now they are ready to be reintroduced! butt without further ado here they are:
an actual loooreeee! In the lovebug au of Heartache (lovebug isn't canon to the main story), Walter fell upon a strange little bug (the og lovebug for my au). he took it and decided to show it to Stanley... it didn't end very well...
the little bug bit Walter and from that moment, it went downhill...
and the last day of his "transformation"
TW: Blood
:)
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I think if Rody didn't have Manon to obsess over and therefore for Vince to make her into food for Rody I still think Vince would go cannibalism route. Like I think we're talking Vince giving a small piece of himself to be eaten by Rody as a form of love, just want to make that clear. This man is not normal.
I also think if Rody did have an obsession with Vince, he would have given a piece of himself for Vince to eat. He is all about giving the most to his partner even at the detriment to himself. He would hand over the whole of himself.
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tfw you’re a closeted gay man but you’re trapped in a show where cannibalism is a metaphor for gay sex (among other things) and you’re too afraid to stare into the abyss because you know goddamn well the abyss stares back so you ignore all your demons and bloodlust and the hot psychiatrist that keeps subtly suggesting that murder is the new black and pretend to be so normal that you end up watching the love of your life (aforementioned hot psychiatrist) turn himself in because he can’t bear to live without you and to cope with that you marry the hottest single mum near you because let’s be honest you’re too far gone to download grindr or pick up a knife and start stabbing people now so you just sit yourself down and enjoy awful peaceful domesticity for the next three years and quietly scream
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once again entertained by the fact that people are saying ren hasnt been quite as yaoiful or whatever this season as if he didnt say, in front of everyone and god "id happily munch on a bit of iskall thigh" and proceed to go on to imply some interesting things about said thighs and how "nice" they were on the first. fucking. day.
like that alone was enough to fill his "weird-style bisexual" quota for at least a month. we all know what an insane double entendre that is. i dont care tht the original context was cannibalism.
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so I know I went one direction with “decked out eating tango” already but now I’m rotating the idea of. something a little different. something more like—tango’s been getting hungry, lately. it started in december, after zedaph ran the dungeon for the first time. something that clawed against the inside of his stomach. he could ignore it, then, but if he had to think, that’s when he started getting hungry.
but it’s gotten worse, and worse, and worse. scar keeps on dropping in and then throwing cookies at him. zedaph makes disapproving noises and forces him to go on picnics. one time, impulse dragged tango on a tour of all the food on the server. but the thing is, it’s not that he’s not eating? he’s missing some meals, sure, but every single hermit who calls him out for occasional missed meals is a hypocrite and they know it. if anything, though, when he remembers to eat, he’s eating more. he’s so hungry. he’s so hungry.
but he’s losing weight anyway. and he decides to ignore it. he doesn’t know what else to do. he sits down with xisuma quietly one day to make sure he gets more calories than normal, and then he ignores it. he keeps working. if something’s wrong, surely it can’t be that wrong. he’s just—cold. the tips of his fingers and ears are cold. and his stomach always hurts. and frankly, if he’s desperate to finish decked out, finally sets a date even though he doesn’t think it’s completely ready, well—
he’s not sure, exactly, actually. he just knows he needs the hermits to run it. and that after that, maybe he’ll find time to figure out why he’s had shaky hands and blurry vision and cold fingers for the past two months. why he’s been hungry for longer.
he has more cookies shoved at him by scar on opening day. he goes through them nervously. they don’t do anything for him, really, but they do momentarily make him feel better, and make it easier to pretend he doesn’t need to be mother-henned. (despite the jokes, he can take care of himself, and he does actually leave the cave, and he’s trying to figure out what else could be wrong so he doesn’t really want more well-meaning jokes about missing meals. he knows. he knows.)
he curls up above decked out, once scar starts his run. he takes a deep breath. he touches the wires, lets some part of his mind leave his body, and he watches scar run the dungeon.
a growl, from somewhere, rises deep in tango’s throat.
he watches scar lose. watches scar’s body fall to the ground at a ravager’s feet.
spend enough time amongst beasts and become one, he thinks, to whatever extent he is even capable of thinking in that moment. it’s not much, though. the amount of thinking he’s capable of, as his body moves practically without his input, is not much.
because tango suddenly knows exactly what he’s so hungry for.
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