d3viantly
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(Please Don't Go) I'll Eat You Whole by d3viantly
Fandoms: No I'm not a Human (Video Game)
31 May 2026
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Summary
“...howdy?” Viktor called out uneasily, his voice cracking just slightly. The dark figure bent down suddenly, its face, or half its face, visible beneath a hat, the rest was covered in shadow. Though it had appeared quite tall in the distance, it was likely at least twice Viktor’s height if it had needed to bend over to face the peephole.
“...oh.” The thing croaked out in a throaty, masculine voice, its visible jaw shifting slightly. “I didn’t think people would move in while I was away, I was just gonna come in before remembering to knock.”
Viktor swallowed at the figure’s casual tone, adjusting the collar of his white turtle neck as an uncomfortable sweat began to form. The thing’s mouth had hardly even moved as it spoke—how it achieved such a thing was incredibly jarring.
Viktor was typically not picky with who he allowed inside, but he had a feeling that it wouldn’t be exactly smart to entertain a conversation with the obvious visitor, much less let it in.
He kept talking.
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A shadowy figure is approaching Viktor’s house tonight, and there’s a very good chance the thing may be a visitor. What it wants is currently unknown, however Viktor will find himself being very affected.
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Summary
“You’ve not done this before, right? Stabbed anyone, I mean.” Mr. Whittman asked a little shakily—the question already sounding answered for Alastor.
“I have. But haven’t you? That work you made on the man’s gut wasn’t exactly good, but it wasn’t amateur enough to be your first time doing it. It’s funny how easily things work out—two friends, two murderers, two fellows out for lunch. It’s all the same, isn’t it?”
Vincent inhaled a shaky breath and nodded, finally standing up from atop the body. He looked to Alastor—looked away—then looked back at him again. “I…I guess it is.”
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Alastor abruptly cancels an evening at the bar with Vincent to instead have a meeting with another man. Predictably, Vincent doesn't quite like being dissappointed, so he intends to do something about it.
...by breaking and entering. Obviously.
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What happens when 52 of my readers vote for me to write a fic?
You get this. -
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“Now, the million dollar questions…Who is this killer, assuming it’s someone other than The New Orleans Huntsman? Is he or she still in Louisiana? Have they already fled? Are they sneaking past us right now, under all of our very noses?”
Vincent, unable to help it, turned up the radio, (again). He loved to hear people talk about himself, especially if they had such a lovely tone. He hadn’t caught the host's name, maybe he’d-
“They could be anyone of us. Killer, if you’re listening…”
The voice continued, uncaring of his inner thoughts. He held his breath, almost worried the smooth tongue would slip away forever lest he gave it his full focus.
“Then make yourself known.”
With how the voice had just asked Vincent so prettily?
Oh, he would.
———
Or,
Vincent has gone down to Louisiana, needing to continue rising through the ranks of stardom across television. But then he ends up meeting Alastor, a local Radio Star with a bad attitude that Vincent would love to fix.
Too bad Alastor liked being difficult.
Oh, and they’re both serial killers, but neither of them know it yet. Who would have thought?
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Summary
As the trudging got closer, Napoleon crept away from the entrance of his stall—just to have the advantage of distance in case of an attack—until he found that it was only Snowball.
The white pig watched him for a moment, eyes tired and bleary, knuckles covered in chalk dust—clearly having just finished more of his extravagant wind mill plans for the night.
He held an old light in his mouth, the flame of it flickering as the fire burned away at the wick. He set it down, the metal clattering as the chain fell from his small tusks.
“Comrade.” Snowball spoke quietly so as to not disturb the others, muttering in a curious voice. Not cold or warm, just considering.
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Amid Napoleon and Snowball's steadily growing rivalry over leadership and the windmill, the two pigs share a quiet night together—having a drink.
It's not like anyone can exactly prove it’s alcohol, so there's no need for a fuss.
...atleast, not yet.
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Summary
Spamton lost his smug smirk for a moment, contemplating what he should do. Now, typically, he’d prefer to go with Tenna over some random lady any night, hell, he would right now. But when was the last time he’d had sex with someone that wasn’t Tenna? It’d been, what, at least three months, probably more. Maybe he should…mix things up a bit. Try his way with a new chick. The two stars weren’t dating, so they both needed to stop acting like it. This could be the step back that Spamton needed. Even if it made him feel a little sick for some reason.
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Spamton, being Spamton, hates that him and Tenna have gotten a little too close lately, and decides to create some distance by flirting with a random lady in the hopes of having sex. When things go less than favorably, he goes to find Tenna and (maybe) apologize, but things have gone a bit off script. How will he react when he sees someone else chatting Tenna up in his place?