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In my head Skylar Specs listens to Gwen Stefani/No Doubt and nothing can change my mind

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Need...more... more movie

The Lost Boys x Ginger Snaps: Incorrect Quotes

Marko: The universe is cold and unfeeling. The only constant is chaos.

Paul : Was that place out of chocolate-chip pancakes again?

David : As your best friend—

Marko: Paul is my best friend.

David , holding a knife: As your best friend—

Ginger : You’re kind of a pushover, aren’t you, Brigitte ?

Brigitte : …I’m sorry.

Ginger : See!? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!

Paul: Am I a boy? Am I a girl? It doesn't matter. I'm going to burn your house down.

Paul: Do crabs think people walk sideways?

Brigitte : ...Paul, shut the fuck up

Paul: Marko, what do you value about Brigitte ?

Marko: They’re thoughtful. They pick flowers and bring them to me. Often they’re ones I’ve just planted, but...

Brigitte : That’s how I know they’re fresh!

David : Ginger -

Ginger : *sighs* Brigitte used to call me Ginger ...

David : ...Because it's your fucking name.

Dwayne : wow you and Brigitte are home early from the movies. What happened?

Ginger : We got kicked out because Brigitte wouldn't stop yelling diving scores as people jumped off the titanic.

Brigitte : That last guy had a solid 8, I'm telling you!

*Ginger and David are texting*

Ginger : Please bring home PURIFIED water with NO minerals added for taste. NONE.

David : I got spring water.

Ginger : NO!

David : With EXTRA minerals!

David : It’s like licking a stalagmite!

Ginger : DON’T COME HOME!

David : Mmmmmm, cave water.

(He loves antagonising her)

David : Oh, here’s my award for the most rules broken!

Paul : That’s not an award, it’s an angry letter from Max

David , hanging it on their wall: Well, it has the word ‘most’ in it, so I’m calling it an award!

*Ginger , Brigitte, and Sam are playing poker. Sam is winning by a long shot.*

Ginger : Aw, come on.

Brigitte: It’s not fair! They don’t even know what we’re playing!

Sam : Go Fish?

Sam : You can’t have a gun on stage!

Ginger : WRONG AGAIN! I can have a gun, and I must have a gun, that’s the rule of Chekhov’s Gun: have a gun. And now that it’s been seen, I will have to shoot someone before the end of the play.

Ginger : See, the problem is, Edgar , you’re playing 3D chess. I’m playing 4D.

Edgar : I’m playing checkers. I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing.

*Micheal teaching Sam to drive and taking Brigitte along for the ride*

Micheal : That's a pothole. To the left!

Sam : Take it back now y'all *Drives into pothole*

Brigitte, sticking their face into the front over the center console: Cha Cha real smooth.

Sam : I don't think that's how the song goes.

Micheal , crying and gripping the handle: Please just take me home.

Sam : Country Roads.

Brigitte: To the place.

Sam and Brigitte in unison: I Belong!

Micheal , crying harder: What the fuck?

Brigitte: *seductively takes off glasses*

Brigitte: Wow...

Micheal : *blushes* Haha... what?

Brigitte: You're really fucking blurry.

Tag: @kados-of-chaos @oceansrose2002

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dk if you take requests for stimboards..but if you do could you maybe put something together that features dollyflesh with things like blood, knifes and anything camo?

Aye aye captain Anon, sorry it took so long!! 🫡 I was literally just thinking of drawing him too, he scares the shit out of me

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Definitely thinking about making fanart for The playground by Aaron Beauregard

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I see the dollyflesh request dw, i m really busy with exams right now 💔💔

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I think tcc has made me view so many perps as human beings who suffered and did a terrible thing. I don’t think that is such a bad thing really

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Fandom: omg Donna my mentally ill baby 🥺🥺 uwu so cute and adorbs

Donna in canon: HEY what's up bitches, today I'm gonna be pranking my gardener with illusions of his DEAD WIFE!!! Stay tuned to see how quickly he kills himself!!!!

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Drawing Alex the cannibal (DO NOT CONDONE!!!) his case freaked me the out bro

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Stimboards!!!

Tcc (do not condone)

Lara Tolosa

Resident Evil

Fav stimboards

Leon Scott. Kennedy 🦮

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Caregiver! Leon scott kennedy stimboard

×/×/× ×/× ×/×/×

(Re2 version)

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Hiii!! :)

Could you do Ginger and Brigitte with a popular girl reader (or gender neutral) who hangs out with Trina but is actually really sweet?

I KNEW IT WAS WRONG, I'M BEYOND IT

Ginger Fitzgerald x popular!reader

Brigitte Fitzgerald x popular!reader

Ginger was immediately suspicious of you. If you're close with Trina, then you must be like her, a prissy, shallow and fake bitch. She keeps her distance, rolling her eyes at every smile or wave you give in the hallways.

Your compliments are surface-level, but always leave her dumbfounded. "You look so cute in that shade of red, Ginger." It throws her off. In a good way.

Not in a creepy way, but she’s fascinated. You laugh too kindly, you're nice to Brigitte, and you compliment people in ways that don’t feel fake. You’re dangerous because you make her feel vulnerable.

Trina definitely notices Ginger watching you and stirs the pot. "Ugh, she’s just so obsessed with you." Ginger almost backs off because she doesn’t want to be that stereotype. But your kindness keeps pulling her back.

She becomes lowkey obsessed with trying to keep you sweet. She always tries to seperate you from Trina. "You know she talks shit about you, right?" But she doesn’t say it to hurt you - she just wants you to be safe.

She acts tough in public but is surprisingly gentle when it's just you two. If you hold her hand, she pretends to hate PDA but doesn’t let go.

She walks you to class now, throws dirty looks at anyone who talks badly about you, and glares daggers at Trina. She’s not subtle.

She hates how Trina's friends tries to touch you when they're drunk or high. "Her boyfriends are stupid. Why are you friends with her?"

Her temper is still hot, her attitude still sharp, but she listens to you. She lets herself soften. You become her calm.

She dares you to skip class, sneak out, or make out in the back of your car. "C'mon, pretty girl, live a little."

Your first kiss happens after a party you both end up at, maybe reluctantly on Ginger's part. You ditch Trina to hang with her outside.

You're leaning on your car, giggling about something, and she just grabs your face and kisses you mid-sentence. No warning. It’s rough, urgent, hot.

Afterwards, she pulls back and mutters, "You talk too much," But she’s flushed, and she doesn’t let you go.

Your first time being seen by Trina together was in after school. You were standing by your car, sharing a cigarette or a soda, standing way to close.

Ginger has one arm slung casually around your waist, her other hand playing with the ends of your hair.

Trina walks by, clutching her books and dragging two other girls behind her. She does a full double-take like she’s just seen a ghost.

"Seriously? Her?" she spits, loud enough to get your attention.

Ginger immediately narrows her eyes and says something like, "Jealous?" before kissing your cheek on purpose.

You stay calm, maybe you give a smile and go, "Don't worry, Trina. I can still sit with you at lunch."

Ginger cackles. Trina storms off in pure rage, muttering something catty under her breath.

Afterward, Ginger kisses you again and says, "That was hot. Can I make her cry next time?"

Brigitte doesn't trust you at first. Trina’s bullying has affected her deeply, and she assumes you must be like her, just better at hiding it. Still, you keep making eye contact in class and smiling at her in this way that makes her stomach twist.

You sit with her one day, maybe in the library, or when Trina’s not at school. You say something like, "Hey, I read your part in the school paper - it was honestly incredible." And Brigitte just freezes. She didn’t even think you really noticed her.

She’s awkward around you for weeks. Drops things. Stares too long. Overthinks your every word.

She doesn’t understand why you’re kind. Why you offer to share your notes. Why you help her carry her project to class. You’re sweet, but she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Brigitte doesn't trust you at first. Trina’s bullying has affected her deeply, and she assumes you must be like her, just better at hiding it. Still, you keep making eye contact in class and smiling at her in this way that makes her stomach twist.

You sit with her one day, maybe in the library, or when Trina’s not at school. You say something like, "Hey, I read your part in the school paper - it was honestly incredible." And Brigitte just freezes. She didn’t even think you really noticed her.

She’s awkward around you for weeks. Drops things. Stares too long. Overthinks your every word.

She doesn’t understand why you’re kind. Why you offer to share your notes. Why you help her carry her project to class. You’re sweet, but she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Brigitte doesn't trust you at first. Trina’s bullying has affected her deeply, and she assumes you must be like her, just better at hiding it. Still, you keep making eye contact in class and smiling at her in this way that makes her stomach twist.

You sit with her one day, maybe in the library, or when Trina’s not at school. You say something like, "Hey, I read your part in the school paper - it was honestly incredible." And Brigitte just freezes. She didn’t even think you really noticed her.

She’s awkward around you for weeks. Drops things. Stares too long. Overthinks your every word.

She doesn’t understand why you’re kind. Why you offer to share your notes. Why you help her carry her project to class. You’re sweet, but she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Why are you nice to me?" she asks one day, a little too sharply. You just shrug and say, " Because you’re easy to like." Brigitte has to go home and sit with that for hours.

She calls you late at night, leaves books in your locker she thinks you’d like, and does research about your favorite things. She expresses affection in soft, careful ways.

Your first kiss was quiet. Private. Maybe after you’ve walked her home and she’s rambling nervously about horror films or a new art project.

You reach out, gently take her hand, and say, "Can I kiss you?" She just nods - completely breathless.

It’s soft, shy, and lingers just long enough for her to melt a little. She’s pink in the cheeks for hours afterward.

Your first time being seen by Trina was a complete accident. Maybe in the library or the hallway, when you brush a strand of hair out of Brigitte's face or reach down to hold her hand without even thinking about it.

"Wait… Are you serious?" Trina's voice cut into your ears like a knife.

Brigitte freezes like she’s been caught doing something shameful, but you don't let go of her hand. Instead, you smile and say, "Yeah. I am."

Trina starts laughing - high, fake, and toxic. "Wow. You must be really twisted if this is your rebound."

You instantly shut it down with a quick, "She’s smarter, cooler, and a better person than anyone you’ve ever dated."

Brigitte is speechless - but she’s glowing. You’ve just done something she never thought anyone would do for her.

Trina walks off in disbelief, already planning how to make it about herself. Brigitte whispers, "You didn’t have to do that." You smile. "I wanted to."

From that moment on, she stops hiding when she’s with you. And she starts holding your hand in public.

[nayapapayaa]

Resident Evil Stimboard/moodboard masterlist

Resident Evil 1

Richard Aiken

Resident Evil 2

Resident Evil Village

Bela Dimitrescu

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AGGHGHHHHH BRIGITEEEEE

I’D LIKE TO KEEP HER HERE WITH ME

werewolf!Ginger Fitzgerald x bully!reader headcannons

Brigitte Fitzgerald x bully!reader headcannons

She’s your favourite target. Quiet, anxious, easily rattled. You make her life hell. Every snide comment, every push against a locker just makes her unable to stop thinking about you.

Brigitte pretends to hate you, but secretly she’s obsessed. The constant attention, even if cruel, is more than she gets from everyone else.

She writes about you in her journal like you’re a monster, but the pages become confessions of obsession. Brigitte hates how much she craves your words, no matter if it makes her feel horrible or not.

Sometimes she practices conversations with you in the mirror, but they always turn into arguments where she breaks down. Or, she confesses things she can never say aloud. Things like “I think about you every night” and “I’d let you ruin me if it meant you’d stay.”

One night, she dreams of you crying. Not out of pain, but because she finally made you feel the way she does. When she wakes up, she writes the dream down and reads it over and over, ashamed—but her fingers tremble with excitement.

Brigitte’s fear turns inward. She thinks she deserves it, thinks maybe this is what love feels like. Sometimes she wonders if Ginger is right - maybe it would be easier to just give in to the darker urges growing inside her.

After one particularly cruel encounter, she locks herself in a stall and laughs through tears, repeating your insult like it’s sacred. It hurts, but it’s familiar. Comforting. You see her. stay.”

The hall is nearly empty. The bell rang minutes ago, but Brigitte lingers near her locker, fumbling with her books like her fingers are too cold to function. Her fingers twitch, slipping once, twice, her breathing uneven. She doesn’t have to look behind her to know that you are standing there.

“Still writing about dead girls and dog guts, Fitzgerald? Or just writing about the disgusting way you stare at me?” Her breath hitched, clutching her notebook to her chest. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I-I don’t stare… at you.”

You take a step closer. She hears your footsteps before she sees your shoes beside hers. She doesn’t move. “You do. All the time, like you want me to notice you.”

You tap the cover of her notebook with the back of your hand - then smack it hard enough to make her flinch. The sound echoes down the empty hall. “Bet this is just full of your sick little fantasies. What do you write about, Brigitte? Want me to push you down? Worse than that?”

Brigitte let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her knuckles were white around the notebook, eyes wide. Still, she doesn’t move. “You… you don’t know anything about me.”

You grin. That’s your favorite part—when she tries to lie to herself. “Sure I do.” You pause, your voice dropping again to a razor-sharp whisper.

You lean in, lips inches away from her ear. Your voice drops down to a cruel whisper. ”You don’t flinch when I get close. Your hands shake like you’re scared, but your eyes beg for me. Do you even want me to stop?”

She doesn’t respond. Can’t. Her throat locks up completely. Her jaw twitches, her face flushed red in humiliation. When she finally dares to look up at you, her expression is raw: wide-eyed, ashamed.

You smile knowingly.

Then, you turn around seemingly bored, and walk away. Brigitte stays frozen. She doesn’t cry. She just watches you disappear down the hallway and presses her notebook against her chest like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

Ginger truly hates you with burning passion. You humiliate her infront of your friends, mock her insecuritis every chance you get, push every button you can find. Deep down, you awake something in her every time it happens. A hunger for dominance that mirrors your own. 

After she get's infected with the werewolf curse, she doesn't want to kill you, much to her own suprise. She wants you. More than before. To break you like you would break her. 

She finds something you lost—a broken bracelet, a page from your notebook—and keeps it. Sleeps with it under her pillow. At first, it's rage-fueled. But soon, she's breathing it in like it's a scent she can't live without.

She starts to show up in places she's not supposed to be. Behind you in the school halls, the girl's locker room after hours, your bedrom window. She tells herself she wants to make you hurt, but her eyes linger. She hates the way you've made her addicted to your toxicity.

When she starts turning, when her nails sharpen, her hunger changes. She fantasizes less about revenge and more about control. Not killing you. Keeping you. Taming you. Collaring the predator that hurt her and making you hers.

When she stalks you at night, it stops being about fear. She watches you sleep, wonders how someone so cruel can look so soft. Sometimes she gets close enough to touch the glass of your window, as if holding back is some form of restraint.

Ginger starts recognizing your scent. The specific mix of your shampoo, sweat, and something primal underneath. It drives her insane. When you walk by in the halls, her pupils dilate and her breath catches. She starts following it like a trail, craving it, needing it like a drug.

The distant sounds of sneakers and squeaking and the coach's whistle echoes from the track. But inside the lockerooms, it's quiet. Quiet and stuffy. You shove open the side door with your shoulder, already flicking a lighter. A cigarette hangs from your lips. You skip gym often enough that no one questions your absence.

You're halfway through your first drag when you hear the clink of metal—a locker closing, slow and deliberate. You freeze, then you see her.

Ginger Fitzgerald, leaned against the far row of lockers, half in shadow. She wasn't there a second ago. Her arms are crossed, one leg kicked up against the metal behind her.

 "Didn't take you for the 'hide and puff' type. Thought you'd rather suck someone behind the bleachers."

Her voice is low, dangerous. But there's a mocking smirk tugging at her lips.

You scoff, blowing smoke towards her without taking your eyes off her.

 "What, you stalking me now? Jesus, Fitzgerald—go cut yourself or something."

Her gaze is sharp—hungry. You notice the way her fingers twitch at her sides, nails longer than you remember. Her skin looks flushed. Sweaty. Like she just ran a mile with her adrenaline screaming. You toss the cigarette to the ground, crush it under your shoe. She's close now. Too close.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself. You think you’re in control, always pulling the strings. But you don’t even see it, do you?”

She steps forward. One boot echoing softly on the tile.

“I used to lie awake, thinking about ripping your face off. Every time you cornered me. Every time you laughed like I was dirt.”

Another step. You can smell her now - sweat, copper, something unknown . It prickles along your skin, instinct screaming danger, but curiosity keeps your feet planted.

“Still could, Fitzgerald. But you won’t. You talk big, but you’re still the same little freak hiding behind a fake facade of drugs and thinking you’re someone badass.”

She laughs. Low, humorless. 

“You keep saying shit like that. Like you’re trying to get a reaction. Like you want me to snap.”

She’s right in front of you now. Her chest nearly brushes yours. Her eyes burn, hot and golden. Not quite human.

“What if I did? What would you do if I pushed you into one of these lockers, held you there ‘til you begged?”

Her voice has dropped into something husky, dark, like a growl wrapped in silk. Her hand comes up, knuckles ghosting your jaw. Not a touch. A promise.

You don’t move. You hate how your breath hitches.

“I’d fucking kill you..”

Ginger’s lips curl. Half snarl, half smile. Her voice lowers, almost intimate now.

“Good.”

And just like that, she backs off. Two steps. Three. Still watching you like she’s won something.

“Next time you light up, make sure you’re alone.”

She turns, disappearing into the far corridor like a shadow melting into the dark.

Your pulse is racing.

You don’t light another cigarette.

[nayapapayaa]

I wish I was pretty, I hate my face

[nayapapayaa]

The lords at Lady D's funeral Unrealistic because Heisenberg would be cheering..