#undead idv

[plaguedsoulrealism]

Papercutter again

[jetbluebishop]

Being a pc idv player is not for the weak.

[asklawyer]

merch + doodles

[ridergoggles]

When you're kiting in Moonlit River Park but the heartbeat doesn't get quieter after taking the rollercoaster

[legitidvleaks]

Percy ("Undead") Character Day Letter

"Undead" - Revival In the final second of consciousness, I can finally declare: the experiment is a success. ("Undead's" 4th Character Day Exclusive Emote)

A Letter Accompanied by an Observation Report

Sir, Since my last correspondence, I have devoted myself wholly to the new assignment entrusted to me. I am pleased to report that, as of this day, the experiment has yielded stable and reproducible results. I trust that the findings herein will be of value to your ongoing inquiries. Through repeated adjustments to both the intensity and frequency of the applied current, I succeeded in restoring animation to the subject, who had been confirmed lifeless and wholly devoid of vital signs. Following this revival, I conducted a series of observations and tests. While many results aligned with our expectations, certain unforeseen complications arose in the latter stages, compelling me to suspend the experiment temporarily.

Observations Upon revival, the subject exhibited marked impairment of motor function, characterized chiefly by sluggish convulsions and an unsteady gait. This recalls the accounts recorded in the earlier "slab" experiments, wherein such constructs are fated to move with a disjointed rigidity, as though they were ill-matched cogs within a mechanism starved of lubricant. With regard to self-awareness, Percy, upon awakening, engaged in little more than aimless wandering, punctuated by inarticulate guttural sounds. There appeared to be scant retention of prior memories; he showed no recognition of, nor fixation upon, the research and experiments that once occupied him in life. Remarkably, despite his formidable physique, Percy's disposition during this stage was docile, even subdued, and he demonstrated little aggression toward his surroundings.

Response to Stimuli On the third day following revival, I commenced tests of pain sensitivity, employing both electric shocks and open flame. When subjected to low-voltage currents, Percy's demeanor and mood remained unchanged—perhaps a consequence of his previous endurance to similar trials before his demise. However, when exposed to high-voltage current and flame, he exhibited pronounced sensitivity, recoiling from danger. For the first time, I observed a transition in emotion: from caution and fear to unmistakable anger. In a display of strength far exceeding that of any ordinary man, Percy tore the apparatus apart and made his escape from the chamber. For the safety of all, he was subdued and returned with the assistance of Guard 26.

Learning and Cognition Three weeks after revival, I introduced the subject to texts on mechanics and electrical theory. Owing to the earlier stimulus tests, Percy was initially resistant to these materials. Yet, with persistent effort and patient instruction, he gradually began to comprehend the theoretical concepts—and even showed a measure of interest. After three weeks, I discovered, quite by accident, that Percy had begun to apply these theories, using laboratory tools to alter the structure of his own left arm. Upon witnessing this, I resolved at once to terminate the experiment. At this juncture, Percy exhibited considerable agitation and resistance, but with the aid of Guard 26, he was subdued and placed into permanent dormancy. Having completed these measures, I found myself drawing a sharp breath, acutely aware of the experiment's inherent unpredictability. My initial intent was to establish a theoretical foundation for future work—specifically, to observe distinctions among subjects revived by various methods of assembly. Yet, when a cold mechanism begins to exhibit independent thought and seeks to defy its master, one must pause to consider whether such endeavors ought to continue. The matter demands the utmost caution and reflection. These, sir, are my observations and conclusions at this stage of our work. I trust they will be of some service to you.

Your most faithful servant, Burke Lapadura

[boyfasciitis]

the banned from duos gang

[nightwonder7]

I need to see more fool's gold and ithaqua art being silly if it's alright.....

And then everyone pointed and laughed at him /j Guess who was responsible for sending out the invitations.

I've had this stuck in my head for a while now. Basically wanted to make a short backstory of this anniversary art piece from last year where Norton was practically the only one without any drip pfffff

[chawawanya]

All hunters ! [3/?]

[rosemaze-reveries]

Hello! I found your blog and love the writing

Here’s sit with me while I tell you my favorite idea 💡

✨So the hunters (all if possible) come back to the manor after a long match of smelling sweat and blood upon walking towards their shred room with reader they catch a scent of their lovers perfume- mind going a mile a minute with the idea of their lover being in they arms and just melting from the stress of the day ✨

Thoughts 💭

ANON. anon...... this is the kind of scenario that makes me CRAZY uegh.. when their judgment's clouded by bloodlust but inhaling your scent brings them back to their senses >>> 🤒 let me be your lighthouse home etc etc. sign me UP.

for some blurbs, this turned into a broader "hunter comes straight to you after a rough match" without the perfume bit. kind of misunderstood the assignment but either way, here's this!

🌪️✂️👘🏳️🏴🦌🐍🪞🎻🔩🐟🕯️

🌪️ Ithaqua brings an air of gloom with him into your bedroom. Driven by nothing but a searing want for you, he skips over any pleasantries to tear off his mask and shove you onto the ground. A bed of wind tries to break your fall, but his impatience gets the better of him; he pins you to the floor with such force that he disrupts his own gale from cushioning your way down. Not that you care in the moment. You’ve been waiting to have him in your arms all day. He leaves a scattering of love bites and wet kisses up your neck.

✂️ Jack has one particular tune that he hums after his worst matches. Months of living together have left you all too familiar with it. His song begins from the foot of the staircase and steadily crisps itself to your ears as he draws nearer. Afraid of the state you might find him in, you rush outside to meet him at the top of the banister. He pauses with one foot on the next step. “Curious,” he says, greeting you with a cordial smile. “It’s not often a little mouse stands in my path—not on purpose.” His blouse is soaked a shade of reddish brown, and no amount of easy banter can hide the weariness in his eye. “Well, you’ve saved me the trouble. I was on my way to ravage you next.”

👘 Michiko drags her nails along the walls of the corridor, leaving a dull streak of blood behind. She doesn’t make a sound when she slips inside your room, practised in her delicate step; you don’t even feel the dip in the mattress before she has her shoulders arched over you. Eyeing you tenderly, she rolls a warm thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m home,” she murmurs. “Your sweet scent led the way again.” She realizes she left a smear of red on your skin, and her hand jerks away, startled by the reminder of what she had been doing just minutes ago.

🏳️ Bi’an’s arms wind around the small of your back, drawing you into his chest for a slow, tender embrace. It’s the first thing he does after returning to the manor: falling straight into your arms. As his lips trail down your forehead, peppering soft kisses in their path, you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him closer. A whisper escapes you about how out of the blue this is, and in response he brings a kiss to the corner of your eye, prompting them to flutter shut. “Let me have you, just for a little while…” Those sweet kisses he’s so good at descend your neck, growing rougher the lower he goes.

🏴 Wujiu’s arms wind around your stomach, pressing his chest flush against your back. He hasn’t uttered a word since returning from his match, aside from a tepid “Nothing worth mentioning” when asked about his day. This sudden affection takes you by surprise. You try to turn your head to face him but he catches your chin, steering your gaze back to the wall. “Don’t look at me.” Whatever is clouding his mind today is better left alone, you realize. You lay your hands on top of his, squeezing them, encouraging him to let your presence blot out everything on his mind. Warm breath fans your collarbone as he nuzzles into your neck, drinking in your scent.

🦌 Bane doesn’t like to discuss his matches. It makes no difference whether they are quick or slow, a win or a lose, they always weigh on him the same way. He sits on the edge of the bed lost in thought. You decide to break the tension first by greeting him with a hug from behind, your chin hooking over his shoulder. Bane isn’t big on physical affection. But after a while he cups a tender hand to your temple, palm taking up the entirety of your face, and presses you gently into him.

🐍 Yidhra might be the hunter most detached from the nightmares of the manor games. They provide nothing but leisure for her, and she’s never felt particularly passionate about them, win or lose. Her followers are the ones who give her the most trouble. When they resist her will, her consciousness splinters apart, some days leaving her too weak to herd them back again. These are typically the days she comes for you. You aren’t sure when she enters your room, but sometimes you catch glimpses of her tail in your peripheral, never to be seen when you’re looking on purpose. Her voice floats in the back of your mind: Mine, mine, mine, mine… There is nothing that binds you to her, yet you’re the only one who never resists her.

🪞 Mary barges into the room clumsily for someone of her poise. She struggles to prop herself against the door, muddy skirt stiff in awkward folds. “My mind is a mess,” she exclaims, voice clear but breathless at the same time. “Where are you? Come settle me.” The second she spots you, she sulks over to toss her arms around your neck, finding a seat in your lap. Clearly she isn’t concerned about observing her usual decorum today. Her dress is heavy and splotched with muck you don’t care to identify, but you don’t mind holding her as the burdens of the day ease off her shoulders.

🎻 Antonio’s fingers instinctively travel to the liquor cart by the window. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights, but feeling around to find nothing but an empty platter gives him pause. One resigned cluck of his tongue later, you feel tendrils of hair coil around your waist and wrists. They pluck you up from your side of the bed and present you in front of him as if you’re nothing more than a doll. “Not a drop to console me?” he complains, knowing you’ve hidden his bottles again. Then his head tilts slightly, taking in your scent. You can practically see detention’s fiery glow return to his eyes. “No, perhaps you are right—there is something more intoxicating for me here.”

🔩 Percy - “Hm...” He’s scrutinizing you with such intensity that you wonder if something’s on your face. He leans over to take an exaggerated whiff of you, and your heart sinks in offense. You have half a mind to tell him you showered just that morning, so it’s probably not you — besides, he’s the one who’s been tangoing with carcasses all day — but Percy keeps a thoughtful look about him. “You smell full of life,” he muses. “That fragrance you wear, it was popular back in the day. Transports me to the city again.” He would know better than you; you just found this perfume in the trunk of a dusty old room. When he comes closer, clasping either hand around your face, you let him lose himself in the nostalgia. Moments like these are all you have to keep yourselves sane in the manor.

🐟 Grace’s mouth is pulled into a taut frown when she flings open the door. You can see a slight quiver in her lip if you squint. Her harpoon clatters on the ground and she drops onto your bed, braid falling out, face buried in a pillow. There’s little you can do except rub a soothing hand in circles on her back. When she peeks over her arm with a gentle plea in her eyes, you wonder if she’s asking for a deeper massage—but you don’t get the chance to ask before her hand latches onto your forearm, tugging you down to lie with her.

🕯️ Philippe settles for a glass of brandy and his bundle of sketches. He’s resting on the chaise by the foot of the bed, not his work desk where he’d usually be. Rather than drafting new ideas he’s simply thumbing through the old ones, mechanically, breaking from his cycle only for a sip of his glass. It’s like your lover’s been replaced by a puppet. You feel unnerved enough to intervene: stripping him first of his glass, his sketches, then his monocle, you tip him back onto the cushion. You expect him to complain about having to get back to work, but he doesn’t protest. Tonight is for him, you decide. As his dark hair sprawls out beneath him, you straddle his thighs, and his hand reaches up to cup your cheek. “I’m terribly jealous of this magic of yours,” he murmurs, faint lilt in his voice. “It’s always you who brings me back from the stars.”

[poorly-drawn-miewlk]

all the new skins are beautiful i can’t-

[rika-mortis]

Some Miles Upshur fanarts that I made in 2020-2021

[jetbluebishop]

Silly banners so my friends actually know what I'm streaming

[asklawyer]

no connections between the stuff in this post beside that I was high af when I’ve draw them

[lemon-pilled]

i have work tomorrow and instead my ass stayed up to draw all the hunters.

youre welcome (god i have to tag everyone. augh.)

[katwarrior]

A sleepy little Luca with Percy's coat from a fic that @aroisuk is working on. No wonder Percy thinks he's so cute <3

[plaguedsoulrealism]

Paper cutter