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#corpse devil
devouredmelancholy · 2 months
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The Devil’s Rejects (2005)
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nerdpoe · 5 months
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Danny was a stillborn, and Maddie made a deal with a Devil to give her baby a soul so he could live.
But the Devil couldn't really like, make a wholeass new soul for this. He could grab one of the ones he owned, but that'd just be putting an adult in an infants body, and that whole thought kind of weirded the Devil out.
So, he compromised.
He had a piece of the Laughing Magicians soul, and he just kinda.
Shoved that into the baby corpse.
And holy shit it worked, the kid took it.
Which, awesome! He gets the lady's soul and the kids when it's matured!
Except that was fifteen years ago, and now said Devil is desperately trying to get into contact with Constantine to cancel the deal they signed and agreed to.
Cuz that little baby?
Yeah he's the High King of the fucking Infinite Realms; a being that can not only cancel said contract, but do it and declare the Devil who made it guilty of Treason.
So he needs to find the Laughing Magician fucking yesterday, before the kid looks too closely at why his soul is so weird and figures it out.
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ho1000c · 3 months
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House of 1000 Corpses
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These two pages work amazingly to show just how unfulfilling a "normal" life can be, as well as showing just how little either of them really know of whats "normal"
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fanofspooky · 4 months
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Go To Hell…
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bloodybobbysawyer · 9 months
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I am hilarious.
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leatherfaceologist · 2 years
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HOUSE OF 1000 CORPSES
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headfullofdrought · 18 days
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The boogeyman is real and you found him.
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ethanhoewke · 8 months
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if i die i die
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credit: hewittswhore
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tiffray · 3 months
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“I’m bad, he’s worse, we’re already dead”
Inbred - Ethel Cain
@captainspaulding
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jarofmoths · 3 months
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mayasaura · 1 year
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So... about Kiriona and why she's Like That, and what's been happening these past six months.
She hasn't just been living her worst monkey's paw life as Ianthe's chew toy and bored prince, acting as emotional support for her new dad in his dismyriad crisis. Which would all be bad enough on its own. At least half that time she's also been actively deployed. Like, in the military, in a combat zone. Probably in a command position with very little experience and exactly zero training.
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From the scattered mentions we've seen of Antioch, Kiriona was most likely deployed there to quell a rebellion. No doubt a terrible experience that would have expected her to do horrible things. Then these things—the devils—turned up.
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Anyone who was infected by the devils, she had to dismember them and burn the corpses. Edenites, House, and civilians. That means regular old people who had nothing to do with the fighting, and people under her command. Either they became shambling zombies with mouths for eyes, or they were mercy-killed and burned before they could be taken.
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How many people did she see die? How many people did she kill, and how many of them did she consider herself responsible for?
So if we're counting the reasons Gideon might seem a little off, we might want to take into account how she took a detour though a fucking zombie apocalypse while we weren't looking. Shit.
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cockworkangels · 7 months
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chilling on the picnic table like corpse <3
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ho1000c · 8 months
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The set of House of 1000 Corpses
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fvnk2fvnky · 3 months
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Proud of this one
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venus-haze · 3 months
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Pretty Tied Up (Otis Driftwood x Reader)
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Summary: Or, the perils of working at Red Hot Pussy Liquors.
Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This takes place between House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil’s Rejects. Based on the Guns N' Roses song. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Armed robbery and implied kidnapping. Sexually explicit content that involves extremely dubious consent and sadism, gags, bondage, groping, and gunplay. Otis is pretty much his own warning. Do not interact if you’re under 18.
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Having regulars at a liquor store was a double-edged sword. You got to know some customers well enough to like them, but over time you’d notice they looked increasingly worse for wear as they came up to the checkout with their usual purchases. The exception, of course, were the Fireflys, who you always found unsettling, despite Baby’s attempts to seem affable. 
“My brother likes you,” she said one day, leaning against the counter as you rang up three bottles of vodka and two six-packs of beer.
“RJ?” you asked, glancing at her brother standing a few feet behind her.
RJ was always nice enough. Didn’t say much. Tall. Burly. Strong. Ruggedly handsome. You’d be open to going out with him.
She laughed in her usual high-pitch that always toed the line of being spine-chilling. “No silly! I’m talkin’ ‘bout Otis.”
You stared at her blankly. “Who’s Otis?”
“You know, long hair, blue eyes, scruffy ol’ beard. He came in here the other night. You must’ve made one hell of an impression. He won’t shut up about ya.”
Oh yeah. Him. Bought a bottle of whiskey and a stack of hardcore BDSM porno magazines. ‘You ever look at this stuff?’ he’d asked, eyeing you as you put a magazine with a nude, distressed-looking woman suspended by intricate ropes on the cover into a brown paper bag. When you first started working there, you could hardly stomach the sight of the rougher fare. As time went on, you found yourself hesitantly intrigued. ‘Gotta have something to do besides go to church on Sundays,’ you replied, earning a wicked grin from him. 
“That’s nice,” you said.
She snickered. “My brother’s not nice.”
“Is this everything?” you asked, hoping to move the interaction along.
“Hey RJ, you gettin’ anything else?” Baby asked over her shoulder.
He shook his head, approaching to pick up the crate you put the bottles in.
Baby handed you a wad of cash. She almost always overpaid, letting you keep the change, which was most of the reason you humored her antics in the first place. “Thanks darlin’! See ya real soon!” she said, wiggling her eyebrows, keen to something you were yet to be aware of.
Two nights later you were working the store alone. Your coworker Billy didn’t even have the decency to call and let you know he wasn’t coming in–or quit. He just didn’t show up at 9:30 when he was supposed to, and your phone call to his house was met with a busy dial tone. Asshole.
It’d been a slow night anyway, but you would have appreciated the heads up, or at least another body in the place when the front door was kicked open.
“This is a robbery! Don’t fucking move or I’ll shoot!”
Despite the bandana covering the bottom half of his face, you knew who it was right away. Long, graying hair and piercing blue eyes that were burned into your memory from his last visit to the liquor store.
You lifted your hands in the air. Your manager had told you on your first day that there was always a possibility of this happening. Better to just let them take whatever cash and booze they wanted and report it to the police once they left. ‘Don’t go playin’ hero. We got insurance.’
“Keep those hands up,” Otis said, slowly approaching the counter. “I’m gonna walk back there, and you’re gonna open the register for me.”
You nodded, eyes glued to him as he slithered around the counter like a snake, gun steadily pointed at you. 
“Go on,” he said.
With a trembling hand, you opened the register, the cash-filled drawer popping open for him. He pressed the gun to your temple, instructing you to put the cash in one of the brown paper bags by your side. You tried not to glance at him too much while you stuffed the paper bag with the money, finally pushing it toward him and sticking your hands up again.
“Alright, now turn around.”
“Wh-What?”
“I ain’t got all night.”
You glanced at the door. No way you could make a run for it, but maybe someone would walk in and be able to do something.
He followed your gaze and let out a cruel scoff. “Ain’t nobody coming through that door who can save you. I’m the closest thing to salvation you’ll ever get. Now turn the fuck around.”
With a shaky breath, you did as you were told, freezing when you felt the barrel of the gun press against the back of your head. His free hand grabbed your ass through your jeans, his strong grip almost painful as he squeezed each cheek. “Wonder how much it’d take to make you bruise?” he mumbled, almost to himself. He squeezed again, harder this time, as if he were trying to dig his fingers into your flesh. “Too much work when I can just cut into ya.”
“Don’t hurt me,” you pleaded, though hearing your own voice, you weren’t quite sure how convinced you were that you didn’t want him to do his worst. Knowing what you did about the Firefly clan, the rumblings around Ruggsville about the strange family–it would be pretty damn bad.
“C’mon now, mama. You led me to believe you liked it rough,” he said, voice gravelly and low as he slipped his hand between your legs from behind, rubbing the rough denim material and your cotton panties against your pussy, the friction hitting your clit in just the right spot for you to let out a shameful moan. Your hand flew to your mouth, the other clenched in a fist as you tried not to give him the reaction he wanted. Didn’t want to prove him right. Show him how curious you were. You didn’t even have it in you to fight back, not when you were on the edge, so achingly close until suddenly you weren’t anymore.
You nearly whined when he pulled his hand away, horrified at yourself, your reaction to his groping you. He grabbed each of your arms, roughly pulling them behind your back and tying your wrists together with something itchy and uncomfortable that dug painfully into your skin as you fruitlessly tried to free yourself from the secure knot he made. What the fuck did he use? Your eyes widened at the carpet burn-like sensation that’d begun to sting your skin. The roll of twine beneath the register. You used to secure some customers’ more sensitive purchases sometimes. 
Fingers and cloth forced their way into your mouth until you were gagged with the bandana Otis had pulled off of his face. He turned you around, looking you over with a slow, satisfactory nod. “I was having trouble getting over this mental block in my art. Started drivin’ me crazy. Y’know, they showed this nature documentary about a group ‘a lions a while back. How they protect and provide for their families, stalk their prey and go in for the kill–do you ever think about how we’re the only species where killing is taboo? For the rest of the animal kingdom, it’s just nature, part of the circle of life. There was a scene where the lion saw a gazelle from way across the savannah, and it was like nothing else existed except for its prey. It couldn’t rest until it tore that damn thing apart. That’s how I felt when I saw you.”
You shook your head frantically, your pleas of mercy muffled by your gag. Fat tears blurred your vision until he morphed into something monstrous, straight out of a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. 
“I ain’t gonna kill ya,” he said, roughly petting your head, “not yet anyway, that’d be a waste when I’ve barely even started.” He gave you a mean grin as he grabbed a hold of your hair by the roots. “I got a lot planned for you. Those magazines gave me a lot of ideas too.”
He lowered the gun, dragging it between your breasts and further down your abdomen until he reached the waistband of your jeans. Using his other hand, he unbuttoned and unzipped them with alarming ease, pulling them down until they fell to your ankles. Your breath hitched as he pressed the barrel of the gun against your cunt, the thin fabric of your panties the only thing stopping him from being able to slide it inside of you. 
Still, the cool metal sent a shiver through you as he rubbed it against your clit, black spots creeping into your peripheral as you hyperventilated through his sadistic experiment. He was hard. That much you knew, but what frightened you, perhaps most of all, was how wet you had become since he tied you up. Your skin still screamed against the rough twine that’d been cutting into your flesh, soon to draw blood as you kept struggling.
Your hips jerked, pressing the gun barrel closer to your pussy that was eager to betray you and clench around it if he just pushed past your panties and shoved it up there. You didn’t want him to do that, not in your right mind. But no one in your situation could be considered in their right mind, could they?
“Don’t fight it,” he encouraged gruffly, blue eyes piercing through you as he watched your knees threaten to give out as you neared orgasm. “Give the devil his due, mama.”
Your hands curled into fists, nails threatening to break through the skin of your palm. Then he did it. Slipped the barrel of the gun past your soaked cotton panties. Your brain short-circuited in a rush of terror and thrill at the sensation. You came, eyelids fluttering shut, a guttural moan tearing from your throat and pushing through your gag. Your limbs felt like ghosts, incorporeal parts of you that could only offer a vague sense of feeling compared to the sensation that overwhelmed your body, pleasure and adrenaline coursing through your veins all the same.
Gun be damned, you collapsed against the checkout counter, unable to support yourself any longer. Your chest heaved, unable to catch your breath with the now saliva-soaked bandana still shoved halfway down your throat. An astounded whine escaped your lips when he brought the gun up to his nose and sniffed. “This is it, mama. This is the devil’s salvation.”
He wasn’t making any damn sense, or your brain was too fuzzy to comprehend what he was saying. All you knew about the devil was from the Bible and that stupid Dr. Satan story people regurgitated like spoiled food. If Otis was the devil, you’d believe it, though.
The sound of a car door slamming shut made your eyes widen, and you glanced over your shoulder, your muffled screams of either help or warning to however was approaching.
“Sorry about this, darlin’. We’ll have a lot more fun later,” he said, hitting you across the face with the gun, sending you to the brink of consciousness. 
The bell on the door faintly jingled, and the last thing you remember seeing was a large, familiar figure walking towards you.
“C’mon and help me get ‘er in the car,” Otis said just as you passed out. "Don't forget the cash."
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