# 3 (from my Substack archives): The Role (and the Why) of Cannibalism in My Stories' Spicy Encounters

Where I talk about consuming your obsessions/lovers with a worryingly amount of fervor.

Disclaimer: Before I begin, I would very much like to point out that I dislike having to use the word “spicy” to describe these types of scenes. Not because it’s inherently negative; the necessity behind it to combat censoring frustrates me. However, I will likely use it many times in this post because the puritanical culture in the USA (and online) can’t let us have nice things.

Also, as I write Adult fiction, assume that everything in my newsletters is for, well, adults. At some point in the future, I might do a post where I recommend Middle Grade and Young Adult fiction and authors for people who think that some preteens and teenagers might grow up to like my work and want something with similar vibes and themes tailored for the kiddos in their lives for now. But again, my work is not meant for minors to consume. If I ever write kid-lit, you’ll be the first to know.

Content notice for discussion of fictional and not-fictional cannibalism within consensual/dubiously consensual/consensual-non-consent/non-consensual sensual/sexual encounters.

So, as I sit here in the sweltering heat due to no AC on, tapping away at 4:20 in the morning because I’m the sucker who works the graveyard shift often, I find myself thinking of spicy scenes. Particularly all the ones I could be writing involving some form of consuming the object(s) of the character(s) desire... Because nothing screams romance and spicy scenes like fading away in a building that has the actual heat on when it’s 70°F out but I digress.

Let’s talk about one of the most common and ancient traditions of humanity:

Cannibalism.

Most people would say that it’s horrific to consume another human in any situation… despite it being a timeless theme/trope in fiction. Due to the very definition of cannibalism—the eating of the flesh of an animal by another animal of the same kind—I would argue that humans tend to consume each others’ bodily fluids during sex which could be considered as cannibalism and that is accepted by the majority. And auto-cannibalism—the eating of ones own flesh—is also a norm. (Think about your dried skin on your lips or haggard nails that you might chew on. Gross, huh?)

Now, of course there’s the matter of consent and intention. Did all parties involved consent to be and/or take part of the human meat sampling? If so, would it be considered cruelty-free? I kid (but not really).

There’s something about cannibalism as a concept that’s always horrified and fascinated me. And, as I’ve grown as a writer and learned how to utilize it in my fiction, I find myself drawn to exploring it in the safe and sane confines of fiction (where no one but my not-real characters will get injured). Now, for someone who talks a big game about being a fan of fictional cannibalism, I’m a chicken when it comes to watching anything pertaining to it. Seriously. Getting me to watch Silence of the Lambs (1991 movie directed by Jonathan Demme) was like pulling teeth even though I enjoyed it as a concept for the most part (would’ve liked it more without the blatant transphobia, though). And We Are What We Are (a 2013 movie directed by Jim Mickle)? Even though I’m a huge fan of kinda redneck cannibals with cult-like rituals (as is evident in the Lost Gods series—Matthew Diggins, my beloved Book II and III child. You deserve so much better then being a human blood-bag.), it took a while of psyching myself up to watch it. I’m also not a fan of reading about it unless it’s within a queer and/or erotic context (same goes with a lot of body horror for me, to be honest).

Despite this, I really do enjoy writing about it and writing themes of consuming the object of your affection. The body horror and the act of transformation—to making yourself into a god-like figure or a grand artist of the macabre and dining on the flesh of another in your species—is absolutely addictive to write. And I could drown in the feeling of crafting another scene where lovers partake in each other, growing that much (twistedly) closer and closer with the threat that one day someone will end up going to far, giving into animal impulses and utterly consume the other. But if you know me, you know I’m a sucker for unconventional endings and fictional characters absolutely dripping with blood—whether that of their enemies or not.

All this is not to say Hannibal was in the right, just that, in fiction, I can definitely see the allure. But this is after all, in fiction, where pretty much anything goes as long as you make it believable.

There’s just something so utterly delicious about being one with your obsession in seemingly unconventional ways. What do you think? Want more like this? I have a few ideas about vampires and vampirism in my fiction and fiction in general that could be cool to dive into. Or do you want me to shut up and just post updates here (hello FBI agent watching me. I swear, I’m just a dark fic/horror romance writer)?