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#tw serial killers
harrywavycurly · 9 months
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The concept of Eddie being a serial killer but being sweet to us just makes me imagine serial killer Eddie and a princess reader 😍 she’s so innocent but is married to a literal killer.
Hiii babes!!! Oh my gawwwddd staahhppp!!! This concept is *chefs kiss* because it’s just the irony of you being all sweet, innocent and probably a little too nice/trusting while being married to a serial killer who you have cutting the crust off your sandwiches and leaving you love notes on the coffee maker before he rushes off to “work”🫠 Just let me indulge myself for a moment okay?
Masterlist: here
TW: Eddie is a serial killer
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“Honey where is the pot that I make soup in?” Eddie holds his finger up making the man tied to a chair in his own basement stop squirming for a moment. “I want to make soup for dinner is that okay?” Eddie quickly puts his phone on the work bench next to his duffel bag so he can put you on speaker, placing you on mute as he looks into the eyes of the man with a busted lip.
“Make a sound and I’ll make this the longest most painful night of your life understand?” The harshness of Eddie’s voice instantly makes the man just nod his head making Eddie smile as he unmutes you. “Soup sounds amazing Princess, the pot is on the bottom shelf in the cabinet to the left of the stove.” Eddie begins rolling up his sleeves as he hears you rustling around in the kitchen, a loud banging noise making him raise an eyebrow at the phone. “You okay baby?” He hears you let out a sigh letting him know the answer.
“I can’t find it.” Eddie’s eyes flicker from his phone to the man tied to the chair. “I really want soup.” He knows by the way he hears a small sniffle come from the phone that you’re about ten seconds away from having a breakdown in the middle of the kitchen.
“Listen to me baby,” he glances at his watch and then back at the man in the chair. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be on my way home and I’ll make you some soup how does that sound?” He knows you’re contemplating the idea and he can’t help but smile as he pictures you sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor letting out a huff because you wanted to make the soup for him, he’s always thought you were so adorable when you were slightly frustrated.
“Fine but can I help?” Eddie quickly grabs the gloves out of his duffle and begins to put one of them on as he hears the sound of you plopping down onto the couch.
“I’ll never say no to your help sweetheart.” He watches the man carefully as he pulls out the next few items from his duffle, his eyes glaring into the man’s reminding him to stay silent. “Now I’ve got to go okay? I love you and I’ll see you soon.” You tell him you love him too before both of you hang up. “It’s your lucky day,” The man’s face goes white as he tries to wiggle out of the ropes that are tied around his ankles. “This is going to be quick but…probably not painless.” 🙃💖
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schizopositivity · 10 months
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Can people please stop comparing the stigma of their widely recognized mental illnesses to psychosis/schizophrenia? I understand there is stigma of other mental illnesses too, but that's a lot more talked about and debunked. When I make posts about my illness and community specifically I don't appreciate you derailing it to include your illness that doesn't face the same stigma.
People looking at you weird isn't the same as people filming you and posting it for laughs, people attacking you because they see you existing as a threat, and calling the police for showing symptoms you can't control. You can't convince me that the stigma around psychosis and schizophrenia doesn't exist or is the same as the stigma of every other mental illness. I see it every day, I've experienced it myself, I don't share my illness publicly because I fear for my own physical safety and humanity.
Here are some examples I have naturally come across on YouTube comments recently, people don't usually fight against these and they are the norm: [TW: sanism, serial killer mention, demonic possession mention, forced medication, forced hospitalization]
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We don't commit most violent crimes in the world. We are not inherently violent. But society's belief that this is true and that we should all be locked up for the rest of our life is still believed widely today. This is what I am advocating against. This is what I want changed in the world and at the very least in the neurodiversity community. We just want to be seen as humans, please do not make this about other mental illnesses.
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vampirade · 5 months
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🎃 @bylerween2023 day two: Halloween Party! 🕸️🦇🩸(Double Date Night! Featuring Lumax)
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tired-teddybear · 4 months
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i don’t get ppl who think real life serial killers are attractive or cool or whatever. like those are Real People. if you wanna call a serial killer babygirl just find a fictional one
like. there’s so many fictional murderers and such that people make edits and fanart/fanfic of and it’s a billion times less problematic than doing that with Actual Real Life Killers. go draw patrick bateman in a maid dress. make some edits of (matthew lillard as) stu and william afton.
have fun with it bc at the end of the day, they are fictional characters and doing that stuff doesn’t hurt anybody. however, doing that with real life killers? that does hurt people.
basically: don’t romanticize actual serial killers when it’s so much less fucked up to just call hannibal lecter your babygirl or draw the riddler as a catboy
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incorrectbatfam · 2 months
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Super charisma (like people find you unusually charming)
You are suddenly convicted of every serial killing in the world because your personality matches the killers' charismatic profiles
Tell me what your superpower would be and I'll tell you what the catch is
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autistic-af · 11 months
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One of my favourite facts is that the serial killer HH Holmes asked to be buried in concrete so that no one could steal his bones.
And 100 years later science just basically used a chisel and stole his bones.
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ectonurites · 4 months
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YOU SOUND LIKE YOU'RE SICK [CHAPTER 1 OF 2] ~12.9k | M | Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
“So, now that I’ve lured you out of your cave,” Mike starts, and quickly adds as an aside, “And guided you into a casual state of mind with the promise of milkshakes,” before leaning forward to properly meet his eyes, “You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Will knew that question was coming, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been dreading it. Putting words to what he’s been going through lately is difficult, at least if he wants to be taken seriously. His earlier attempt had crashed and burned, which is what landed him here in the first place. He needs to be strategic, methodical, cut and dry in his approach. “I don’t know what good talking about it will do, but sure,” he shrugs, trying to play this out calmly, resting his chin in his hands as he stares right back at his best friend, “I’m losing my mind.”
It’s the late 90’s and Will Byers is trying to paint. He's at least making progress on the freelance work, but on his personal art far less so. It doesn’t help that forces outside of his—or anyone’s—control have something else in store.
[READ ON AO3] [PLAYLIST] [ART]
Written for @bylerween2023 DAY 4: PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR [and posted at the last possible moment bc i take forever to edit lmao.]
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fruitbythefoot7 · 5 months
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bylerween day 2: slashers, gore & body horror
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hehe scream (1996) byler au >:D i took some Very Awkward reference pictures for this, but i think the posing turned out pretty good! they really went crazy together <3
@bylerween2023
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hanasnx · 5 months
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Ok but he also leaves letters with his semen, lmao. Anakin is already a weirdo, but sk! takes it a level further. What do you think, Master Indy?
anon how does it feel to be the realest.
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he’d write out his sick love letter. details about your body and what it’d look like under his care. cut up, bloodied, bruised, and coated in his cum. how he’d keep you to himself, how you’d never see the light of day again.
“a taste of what’s to come.” he writes. and he stands over it, and jacks himself off. pumps his length as he squeezes his eyes shut, imagining all the things he wants to do to you. keep you in a cage, lead you around on a leash, get a silver blade on your skin. he chuffs out air as he fucks himself, until hot spurts of cum paint the ink on the page. the dampness smudges it, but he doesn’t care. folding it up with his jizz all over it, and stuffing it in an envelope to leave it on your pillow where you’ll find it.
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foodiewithdahoodie · 10 months
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Bite Forbidden Fruit (dark byler au, cannibal will x serial killer mike)
Inspired by @pinkeoni's many posts about Will coming back wrong. Byler being coded as Jennifer's Body/Ginger Snaps/Raw/Bones and All/other human turning monster flicks
Mike never ever saw himself as a person to take a life. The idea of death, war, violence of most kind really - sickened him. Karen used to laugh at how much of a pacifist and tree hugger he used to be in his earlier youth. Mike's even stunned to see how effortless it actually is to kill another human being in cold blood, but hey, it's for Will, so he makes an exception to his usually solid moral code.
"Is it good?" Mike asks, standing with the bloody nail bat at ease by his side, almost like it's a paladin's sword if he were to imagine a less gruesome scene playing out.
He's staring down at a crouching Will ripping away at the flesh of a dead James Dante, Troy Walsh's right hand man. Will's munching and biting and clawing hungrily, blackened eyes reminding Mike of a starless and moonless night sky. Somehow, through the taller boy's gaze, Will still seems innocent. Pure. Untainted despite literally eating one of their longtime bullies for dinner (or in this case as a midnight snack). Mike's gotten better at hunting to feed the beast within his best friend. He mastered how to copy Troy's handwriting. Knows James does whatever Troy says with minimum resistance like the lackey he is. Wrote a note pretending to be Troy, lured James out to the woods under the guise of meeting up with his equally cruel friend to smoke cigarettes or something else that's dumb and bad kid-like.
Mike had bludgeoned him well using the shadows as cover when he swung, aiming for the points of his skull that made the boy concussed and knock out (thanks Human Anatomy library book). He then finishes the job on the motionless prey with a few more whacks, face unrecognizable when he's done, huffing from the workout because he's still an unfit nerd by nature. Then Mike did a 'come hither' gesture for Will to walk out from behind a tree, stomach growling, and mouth watering with spilling drool in desire. That's how they got in their current position.
Will too focused on the prey, ignoring anything surrounding them because Mike's keeping careful watch, so his guard is oddly down. Perhaps, he's a little insecure that Will's attention is elsewhere, and Mike's aware of how foolish and unhinged he is to fish for a compliment during this time sensitive situation, but he can't help it. Even if this version of Will is more on the primal side than sentient, Mike wants praise for his hard work just like a dog that brings back its prize to its owner.
"Will?" Mike calls again, in a softer tone that he only reveals when he and Will are alone from family and friends and strangers. "Is it good?" He repeats, kneeling but not fully resting himself on the ground like Will's doing. He's maintaining the height difference.
There's a pause in Will's vigorous feeding, as if his brain is processing the words properly. He raises his head slowly, mouth and chin dirtied with things that'd make a normal person vomit, faint or scream. Fortunately, neither boy is normal. Mike gives a pointed look, never once treating his best friend any differently than they're routine dynamic - him checking in and Will giving honest answers in return.
"Is... G-Good." The distorted, scratchy voice of Will speaks. It's a combination of a roar, a croak, and the quiet cadence of the Byers' youngest son. It sounds like three separate voices are talking at the same time at different frequencies.
Mike beams at the confirmation. Puffing his chest out a bit in pride and even giggling a little with a rosy blush splattering his freckled cheeks. Seeing that Mike's satisfied, Will flits his desolate gaze to the immobile body at his disposal, awaiting orders patiently, and Mike gives hushed permission for Will to resume feeding. He rifles his backpack for peroxide, dumping nearly the entire bottle onto the nail bat to wash away the blood before it dries and crusts over. He's glad he stalked Karen when she was doing her daily household chores, learning all the various cleaning products that could get rid of the toughest stains. Mike's been doing a lot of that lately. Tiptoeing. Making his footsteps virtually silent. Practicing his stalking by following after his own family members to see if they'd notice his presence or not. The store clerk never questions why he uses his allowance to buy a bunch of latex gloves and jugs of bleach, assuming he's just running errands for his mother, because it's the Wheeler's kid - they're good stock in a good neighborhood.
Mike grabs a bunch of wet wipes, preparing to clean Will's face off some. By now, Will isn't feasting as much as he is playing with his food, molding the torn flesh and ligaments as if it were Play-Doh. Mike can hear the keening and whining of demodogs lurking in the woodsy shadows encircling them. Waiting for their turn to eat the scraps Will's left them like vultures. They make for a great cleanup crew, the mix of Upside Down creature and Will's bite marks sure to confuse forensics on if a human or a new breed of animal mauled James to death. He's still perplexed at how Will started controlling the demodogs, part of him knowing that Will hasn't been telling him the whole truth yet, and he longs for the day when he does get fully candid with him. Mike beckons for Will to come over for his ritualistic cleaning and feels his heart jump in his chest when Will crawls on all fours to him. It's cute.
"C'mere." Mike whispers wistfully, a gloved hand cupping Will's chin so he can use the wipes to make his best friend's face spotless, spic and span.
Will blanky stares at him. He doesn't blink. It's unnerving, but Mike doesn't falter. He's seen Will do worse. Knows what Will's capable of. The fear he has isn't ever related to Will one day getting too famished, too starved, and pouncing on Mike to do him in. No, Mike fears how others are going to treat Will in this condition. Those doctors and the Party and Hawkins in general. He gently wipes Will's nose, cheeks, chin, hands, and lips - paying extra attention to the lips that are slightly parted with a tongue poking out - showing off fangs that retract now that he's curbed the hunger until next time.
"Tell the demodogs they can eat now." Mike commands and Will nods obediently, his head jerking to the corpse, one nostril bleeding, and soon the creatures are licking, consuming, devouring freely.
Mike sets aside the wipes (not before re-cleaning Will's nose) and pulls out a spare sweater that won't be missed from his backpack. Will's a messy eater and has gotten his shirt covered in evidence. His pants are safe, though, along with his shoes.
"You're going to have to be neater when you feed. I can't keep up with the laundry if you keep wearing my stuff." Mike scolds halfheartedly, averting his eyes when Will lifts up his sullied shirt to reveal his pale nude chest. Ordinary for kids their age, unsuspecting that his short body could do such horrendous deeds.
In quick succession, Will's swamped in Mike's too-big-for-his-small-frame sweater. The demodogs have made James unidentifiable. Mike pulls out a garbage bag from his backpack and stuffs Will's shirt inside, same with his gloves and the wipes. Will's blackened eyes begin to lighten again to their original hazel. The fog clearing up to consciousness.
"What time is it?" Will's voice is tender and quiet, the way Mike prefers it.
"Time for us to go to bed if we don't want to fall asleep in Mr. Clarke's first period." Mike chuckles, tying up the garbage bag and wondering which place he'll dump it - the quarry, the junkyard, the train tracks?
Will hugs himself, the sleeves of Mike's sweater engulfing his hands. Dark brown eyes are alit with swirling emotions as Will sniffs the sweater contentedly and mindlessly, not quite coming down from his primal side yet. "I'm gonna pass out in Mr. Clarke's anyways. I'm so sleepy since we started doing this. Mom thinks it's nightmares."
"Don't worry." Mike comforts. "I'll take notes for you and me both. Rest up. Do what you have to. Leave everything to me. I'll handle it."
"You handle so much already." Will rocks on the balls of his feet. "Maybe we should, I dunno, tell my Mom or uh... H-Hopper."
"No! They'll just get in the way!" Mike seriously warns, throwing an arm around Will's shoulder protectively and pulling him close so their bodies are flushed against each other. He whispers in Will's ear. "We're the team, Will. Remember? It's just us. That's why you told me, right? Because you know I can help you the most. The best."
Will's silent, leaning his head towards Mike and feeling his fangs threaten to protrude again because why does his best friend smell delectable and tasty and scrumptious? He just ate. He's full. Why is Will hankering to attack Mike and gorge on that milky skin hiding tendons and muscle? He doesn't want to hurt Mike, not anymore since he's been providing so swimmingly for him, and it's scarier to Will that he knows Mike wouldn't mind it. Wouldn't mind dying by Will's teeth and tongue and nails and pack of demodogs. If that's what Will needs.
"I want you." Will confesses half mad with bloodlust and Mike's breath hitches, tickled. "I want you to let me h-have a bit of your blood from time to time. I..." He gulps shakily. "I want to relish in the flavor of you, b-but I don't want to do more than that. Just your blood is enough. It's the sweetest thing I've ever had."
"Will, of course. Anything for you." Mike sighs dreamily, like it's the most romantic and amazing thing he's ever heard. "We're already running late, so not this time. A-After school, though! I'll come by for a sleepover at yours. Bite me then. Okay? Okay?"
"Okay." Will agrees.
They part ways. Before, Mike would bike Will home, but after learning that he's got protection in the demodogs, he trusts Will to be safe without him. Mike opts to throw the garbage bag in the quarry, feeling a bit sad that he's polluting, but quickly pushing the guilt down. He's getting better at that. Sometimes, he ponders if El's still out there. He misses her. She was a great friend and useful and her assistance would be very much appreciated when dealing with Will's cravings. Still, Mike figures that even if El were to have stuck around, if she's even still alive, he would feel more at peace catering to Will by himself than letting others support them. Mike takes great pleasure in knowing Will opens up to him first, that he's above Joyce and Jonathan in certain concerning matters.
In the morning, he does the routine. Mess with Nancy's eggs. Complain to his parents. Bikes to school with Lucas and Dustin. Then wait for Will to get dropped off by Joyce's new boyfriend Bob. Will of today is nothing like the Will of last night. He's geeking with Dustin about the latest comic issue of X-Men. He's dreading gym class with Lucas. Mr. Clarke gives him leeway to nap because it's Will Byers, the Zombie Boy, he was taken for a week and gets special treatment from faculty. Mike plans to keep it that way. Will deserves it. To have inside jokes with his loving friends and scrunch his face at cafeteria's mystery lunches (even if his distaste for it isn't what Dustin and Lucas think it's for).
Mike notices Troy seems at a loss. He recalls that feeling and that expression by memory - the loneliness of sitting in your best friend's absence - alone without the person who understands you the most in this world. Mike felt that deeply last year when he was the only one who cared about Will. Now, he sees Troy wandering the halls by himself without his partner in literal crime. News hasn't broke about James Dante. Mike's counting down the seconds to the hour. Remembering how long it took for them to be notified of Will's vanishing. He says nothing to the Party when he peers through the window of the school office door to see Hopper and subordinates talking sternly with the principal. The corners of his lips curve upward slightly, in a subtle movement of satisfaction. He could only hope to witness Troy's despaired face once he finds out. How can he bully the Party with one man down?
"The world must be ending cuz Troy hasn't terrorized us all day." Dustin says aloud while opening his locker to collect his mathbook.
Lucas has his hand splayed, palm upward so Will can doodle on it with pen. Mike beats down the jealousy of Will touching Lucas voluntarily, his creative fingers smoothing their Ranger's skin to make the surface flatter and more conducive for the ink to take. He thinks it unfair. That when it comes to physical contact, Mike is the one that initiates it between Will and him, but when it's Will and Lucas, they can meet each other halfway doing their signature hug with a pat on the back. He purses his lips and reminds himself that he's Will's closest friend out them all. He shouldn't fret.
"Hey, if Troy's taking a break from pummeling losers, then I'm not questioning it." Lucas shrugs and then hurriedly apologizes when Will swats at him.
"No moving or I'll mess up."
"Sorry. Sorry."
Mike glides towards them, hovering beside Will, practically stitched at the hip. He slyly shoots a glare at Lucas, who rolls his eyes, already sensing Mike's territorial behavior kicking in. Ever since Will was rescued, Mike orbits the shortest one of the Party and personally takes offense whenever Will concentrates on his other friendship bonds.
"Dude, just ask Will to draw on you too. Sheesh." Lucas calls out and Mike blushes when Will pauses to glance his way.
"You want me to doodle on you? I can."
He gulps. For once internally thanking Lucas's bluntness. "S-Sure!"
The bell rings and they flee to class. That's when the announcement is made on the intercom. A curfew is to be set in place. Gossip spreads like wildfire. Troy's been summoned to the office. Hopper's still here. Will and Mike play dumb, but do show inquisitiveness when Lucas and Dustin suggest it could be Upside Down related again. They're not technically wrong. Will wouldn't be like this if the Upside Down hadn't changed him. Mike goes to the Byers' house, against Joyce's and Karen's better judgment with the forming search party of Hawkins adults, police and citizens alike. It's in deaf ears, Mike refuses to leave Will's side and the mothers relent.
He's in Will's room, streching out his sleeping bag beside the bed. Will's gone to the bathroom, although Mike believes he's imagination is overactive because it sounds like Will's throwing up in the sink or something. Probably Joyce's meatloaf not sitting right in his friend's stomach. It's not the type of meat Will savors these days. Mike eagerly rolls up his pajama sleeve to display his arm. He can't wait for Will to bite him. To give Will his precious blood that apparently trumps all others he's feasted on. Mike would be lying if he said he didn't feel special because of it.
"Mike." Will's voice snaps Mike to reality.
His friend pads across the floor, dropping to his knees, and grabbing at Mike's offered arm. He nuzzles his face in the crease where Mike's arm bends. The scent is exhilarating. It reminds Will of all the homecooked meals he's sampled, the Halloween candy he's collected, the desserts Karen's baked, the carnival food and greasy Benny's burgers. It's Mike, who feels of home, that Will needs to take a bite out of. He feels the sharp fangs aching, itching to pierce skin like the flu shot Joyce makes her sons get every year.
"Do you really mean it?" Mike asks, moving his arm more into Will's carnivorous mouth.
"Mean what?"
"That I'm the sweetest tasting?" Mike clarifies, happy to be Will's number one in anything.
Will smiles genuinely at him. It's boyish and adorable and contrasting to what his next action is. "If you weren't my best friend ever, I'd eat every part of you 'til there's nothing left to be salvaged."
"Wow." Mike exhales in awe before Will sinks his teeth in and sucks the blood directly from the veins, tasting all the foods that give him no nutrients anymore since he became this thing.
Everything is perfect so far. They're down one less bully. Hopper suspects nothing from them. Will's appetite is satiated. They go to the arcade daily with their friends. Troy's been quiet more. Owens can't find any flaw in Will's health beyond emotional. Mike bought a new video game to play with the Party. The Dante's put their house up for sale, just like Barbara's. Mike wears more long sleeves to hide his healing scars. The store clerk doesn't bat an eye when Mike gathers more bleach and latex gloves on the counter. Another person, this time a teenager, goes missing. Will's fed, spoiled rotten. A new girl moves to town named Max.
Will gets better at controlling his hunger and develops more powers the more he gratifies the beast. Mike gets better at maiming and discarding. They're in the woods again, Mike getting Will to come down from his monstrous trance. He dismisses the demodogs stopping in their feasting of another prey to gesture in the direction of a thick line of dense trees. It's the one time Mike's not carefully watching, preoccupied with scrubbing Will's dirtied face. A pair of big brown eyes are wide and intensely staring at the boys from her spot behind a tree. She decides to make herself known despite the horrors she just saw. Her foot cracks a branch and alerts Mike, who brandishes his nail bat, and Will, who hisses ferally and beckons his demodogs to be on guard.
Mike looks startled, dropping his weapon upon realization.
"El? You're alive?"
He barely can finish when Will charges at her, viewing her as an enemy trying to steal his food or hurt them, his primal state forgetting how she saved him, and El lifts her hand in defense. Both of their noses bleeding. Mike's too slow to react as El's powers seem to not work, Will tackling her to the ground.
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Tagging @light-lanterne @microwaveonwheels @venus-cava @wheelersboy @hyperfixationcentralsvoid @bylertruther @elhaspowers and I can't remember who else I'm sorry 😖Not sorry for the cliffhanger though. I've always wanted to see Willel fight each other with their hands. Okay bye bye!
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nightmarebunarts · 8 months
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Occasionally I forget that this man was canonically (!) Jack The Ripper
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harrywavycurly · 9 months
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Summary: Eddie Munson is a serial killer, but to you he’s just your ultra loving husband that works odd hours with his uncle Wayne at the plant in town. You have no idea that half the time you call him and he’s “busy” it’s because he’s duct taping someone’s wrists and ankles together or cleaning up after himself when he’s done…working. Eddie makes sure that you know how loved you are and tries his absolute best to keep you as far away from his business as possible even though sometimes it’s harder than he’d like it to be. At the end of the day you are the most important thing in his life and he’ll do just about anything to keep you happy. This is a series all about the ups and downs of being married to a serial killer.🖤
Story Type: Serial!Killer Eddie x Spoiled Reader
Status: Ongoing
Tag List: Open
A/N: Writing about Eddie being a serial killer wasn’t on my 2023 bingo card but here we are. I also know killing is horrible and horrendous I don’t condone it at all this is all just fantasy and based on watching Dexter 73874 times so if you’re not into it that’s fine I won’t be offended please do what’s best for you!🖤
TW: Knives, killing, torture-ish things, Eddie is a serial killer
Conversations: Coming Soon✨
Texts: Here
Instagrams: Here
Everything Else: Here
*This story is in no particular order so you can read it however you like but you’ll find everything down below*
Part 1: Bedtime
Part 2: Soup
Part 3: Honey Are You Home?
Part 4: Thanksgiving
Part 5: Nick
Part 6: Puzzles
Part 7: How Long?
Part 8: Family Video
Part 9: Meeting
Part 10: Schedules
Part 11: Girl’s Night
Part 12: Pampering
Part 13: No Choice
Part 14: Retired (this is set way in the future)
Part 15: As Planned
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one-time-i-dreamt · 1 year
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I was trying to find a serial killer in a digital world then stopped to watch Stranger Things with the serial killer and Will Byers.
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Now that the new Dahmer series is on Netflix, here’s your reminder that the producers were not required to seek consent from the families of victims and didn’t even bother to warn them about the publicity and how aggressively they were going to push it on the Netflix homepage.
I know it happened before a lot of us were born, but the people it impacted, the people that man’s actions left devastated, are still here. The families of the boys and men he killed are still alive. They should not find themselves in a position where they’re being retraumatised by a Netflix ad they can’t skip.
Dahmer preyed on Black and brown queer youth. We should not be turning their lived trauma into a spectacle. Their pain should not be our entertainment.
And for the love of God, stop making merch and talking about how Dahmer could have been fixed. Just stop.
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rosewaterraindrops · 8 months
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Realized something about the WWDITS timeline:
-In the promo for S5E5, Nandor says they got to Staten Island in 1892.
-Laszlo was Jack the Ripper, who was active from 1888 to 1891.
So maybe they left London in 1892 so that Laszlo wouldn’t get caught!
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a-sip-of-milo · 5 months
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Can't believe people are making fan blogs for rapists and serial killers in 2023. The fuck is wrong with you.
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