#Rust dbd

[valentronic]

love this guy the uhhhhh *looks at smudged writing on hand* triangle

[theancienthybrid]

The Legion, a deadly group of teens, consisting of:

Frank Morrison

Julie Kostenko

Joey Jonathan

Susie Lavoie

and

Frank...Morrison...?

[elikajinnie]

not necessarily a request but i think a dbd killer jungwon would be soooo fun to read omfg. especially since you write horror so well and your other jw fic was PHENOMENAL

just wanted to leave my little brainworm here 🙈🙈

P: Dead By Daylight Killer!Jungwon X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Obsession, Psychological Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Violence, Dark Themes, Mental Torture, Slight Mind Break, Blood, Mentioned Cult Activites, Humiliation, Bondage (Chains)

Synopsis: A new killer, a new map, and terrifying new powers. When you first learned the Entity had unleashed another killer, you were annoyed. But as you face him now, those feelings shift. His control.. his ability to manipulate your every move… it’s worse than you could have imagined.

a/n: Well originally the dbd series was only for the hyungline.. but anon.. you did this.. i love dbd, even more with Springtrap (OG fnaf fan.)

now playing: in the dark of the night (jonathan young)

Time was irrelevant in the Entity’s realm. From the moment you are captured, you could forget asking what time it was. There was no rhythm to the days, no routine, no sense of passing hours. "Good night" and "Good morning" had become meaningless. Darkness was constant here, shadows stretching, pressing in from every corner. The sun? Gone. Warmth? Never existed in this place. Only a numbing, all-encompassing cold that seeped into your bones.

There was nothing to do but wait, trapped in this perpetual limbo until you were inevitably called in. And when you were, it was always the same. Pain. Panic. The ever-present fear of what came next. It was a cycle—endlessly repeating. The only constant was the hum of the generators. Only one thought ever echoed in your mind: Where’s the next one?

It was a race for survival. One that you had grown accustomed to, even if you hated every second of it. You'd learned to adapt—staying low, staying quiet, and always moving with purpose. Always searching for the next generator, the next chance to escape. When you were called in for a match, you didn’t expect anything different. Another trap. Another game. Another nightmare.

So when you were called in for a match, you weren’t surprised to find yourself in a dark room, the familiar heaviness of the air wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. You instinctively started moving, but as you took in your surroundings, something felt... off.

This wasn’t a map you recognized.

You pressed your back to the wall, narrowing your eyes, and began to cautiously explore. The layout was foreign, with jagged architecture that seemed almost ceremonial. The walls weren’t just cracked or broken like the usual maps, they were covered in strange, arcane symbols that seemed to pulse in the low light. Each step you took only deepened the unsettling feeling in your chest. This place wasn’t just unfamiliar; it felt wrong.

A chill ran down your spine, and the implications hit you like a cold slap. A new map.

A new map meant a new killer, and right now, that was the last thing you needed. The Entity had dragged you back into its twisted game, and you knew the rules: survival, at any cost. But with a fresh killer on the loose, you could already feel your grip on sanity slipping.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out the setup for the map, it was an old military fortress, abandoned and decaying, with walls that seemed to whisper the memories of battles long forgotten. The architecture was a grim reminder of something that had been built for control. It was a cold, imposing structure, with crumbling stone and rusted metal fixtures that still managed to hold a terrifying, menacing presence.

There was no light, not even the faintest glow. Not inside the fortress, not out in the sprawling dark forest that surrounded it. You couldn’t see a single star in the sky. Only the moon, hanging high above in a deep, unsettling red hue. It bathed everything in a faint but eerie tint, as if the very land was soaked in blood. The forest itself felt like an extension of the fortress—claustrophobic, suffocating, and full of hidden threats, where every tree and shadow could be hiding something that was waiting for the right moment to strike.

And you had the feeling of a million eyes watching you, eyes that you couldn’t see, but could feel burrowing into your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you paused mid-step, breath hitching. Then you heard it.

Giggling.

Faint at first, like wind through leaves. But it grew louder—layered, distorted, like a chorus of laughter echoing from every direction at once. High-pitched and wrong. Mocking. It wasn’t just one person. It was like a crowd—a million voices laughing, whispering, enjoying something you weren’t a part of. Something you were the center of.

Your fingers curled into fists. No one was around, not visibly, but the laughter remained, somewhere just beneath the surface of the world around you. It didn’t stop. It was like the map itself was alive—like something about this killer didn’t just stalk you… it played with you.

You forced yourself to move, to breathe again. And as you crept through the shadows, you finally spotted others—Meg, Jill, and Nancy huddled near a generator about twenty yards away. Relief tugged at your chest, but it was fleeting. Something wasn’t right.

They all looked… off.

Nancy was crouched off to the side, healing herself with trembling hands, her movements clumsy and disoriented, like she was struggling to focus. Blood stained her jeans and hands, and her face was pale.

Jill and Meg were at the gen, but even from this distance, you could see the way their heads occasionally snapped to the side, as if reacting to a sound that wasn’t there. Their hands moved across the generator with mechanical repetition, but their expressions were empty—hollow, like the act of fixing it was just muscle memory now.

You decided to walk up to them, the tension in your chest tightening with every step you took. As you approached, their heads turned toward you, and for a brief moment, the hollow expressions on their faces softened. There was something almost relieved in their eyes as they noticed you.

Meg’s mouth opened slightly, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, her eyes darted between you, Nancy, and the surrounding forest, her hands still mechanically twisting the generator. Jill, on the other hand, met your gaze with a shaky exhale, her face pale as she wiped her forehead, as though the pressure was finally beginning to crack her composure. And Nancy, already nursing her own wounds, managed a small nod when you approached, but it was clear she was struggling to stay alert.

You moved toward Nancy, offering to help with the healing. Your hands worked quickly, but you couldn’t ignore the strange, nagging feeling creeping at the back of your mind, the shadows in the corners, the whispers on the wind, the eyes you couldn't see. The world around you felt too still. Too controlled.

Once you were done, you asked quietly, “What happened to you guys? What did you see?”

The moment the question left your lips, they all seemed to speak at once. Their voices were low, barely above a whisper, as if sharing the details of their encounter with the killer might somehow make it worse.

“I… I don’t know exactly,” Meg began, her voice shaky, as she glanced nervously over her shoulder. “He—he has these… shadow figures. Little humanoid things. They’re not real, but they feel real. They just appear out of nowhere.” She swallowed hard. “It was like he was controlling them.”

Jill interrupted her with a sharp intake of breath. “He doesn’t just control them. He controls everything.” Her voice trembled. “I—I swear, it felt like he was in my head, messing with my mind. Everything around me went black for a second, and I couldn’t move. It was like I wasn’t even in control of my own body.”

Nancy added quietly, her eyes darting around nervously. “He made me feel... trapped, like i couldn’t breathe.” She paused, wincing as she adjusted her bandages.

The three of them fell silent for a moment, exchanging uneasy glances as if the memories were fresh and raw. The weight of their words hung in the air, leaving you with the oppressive feeling that the killer wasn’t just a physical threat, but a mental one, too. His power wasn’t just about stalking or hurting; it was about breaking you down from the inside out. Control.

A mental killer wasn’t something common in the Entity’s realm. Most of the killers you’d encountered were brutal, physical creatures, ruthless in their pursuit, they were straightforward in their violence. You could fight against them, try to outrun them. But this? The idea that this killer could break you down mentally, control your every thought, every move, was enough to make your stomach churn.

You were barely able to process that thought when suddenly, the giggling—the maddening, distorted sound—grew louder. The laughter bounced off the walls of the fortress, seeping into your ears and clawing at your mind.

Before you could even react, the shadows around you shifted, and in the blink of an eye, three humanoid figures emerged from the darkness. Their forms were barely solid, shifting and flickering like smoke or mist.

The moment they appeared, the cackling began rising, high-pitched and mocking, like the laughter of a thousand twisted souls trapped inside these shadowy figures. They didn’t have faces—just hollow, shifting silhouettes, but you could feel the malice radiating off of them. It was as if they were laughing at you, at your fear, feeding off it.

Panic surged through you like a tidal wave. Without thinking, your body reacted. You spun on your heel, heart hammering in your chest, and before you knew it, you were running.

Behind you, you could hear the others scattering, all of them running in different directions, driven by instinct, their own terror feeding off the sinister presence of the shadowy figures. The giggles seemed to follow, echoing off the map as if they were everywhere at once.

You had to keep moving. You had to survive. The shadowy figures hadn’t followed you. No, they were flying off, following the others as if they were being drawn to their fear, choosing their prey with a twisted, malevolent intent.

For a fleeting moment, you wanted to stop, to look back, but the sudden pressure in your chest made it impossible. Something was wrong. Your heartbeat picked up, pounding in your ears, as if trying to warn you.

You forced yourself to turn forward again, desperate to put distance between yourself and the shadows, but that’s when it happened.

A sharp pain ripped through your side, sudden and brutal, as if something had slashed across your skin with precision. You screamed in pain, the noise ripped from your throat as your body staggered forward, caught off guard.

The blood dripped from the wound, staining your clothes, and your legs faltered as you tried to stay on your feet. But before you could fully comprehend what had just happened, you lifted your head—and there he was.

The killer.

He stood there, an imposing figure cloaked in darkness. His black, high-collared coat clung to his body, sleek and dark, moving almost unnaturally as if it were alive, responding to his every movement. The fabric shifted, undulating with an almost hypnotic rhythm, as if it were part of him, an extension of his being. Chains twisted and coiled around his form like a prisoner to his own power.

His hands were covered in long, sharp gloves, the fingertips tapering to sharp points. He gripped a long sword, its blade unnervingly smooth, and its surface etched with ancient, cryptic symbols that seemed to shift when you looked at them too long.

He was dressed in all black—from head to toe. Even his face was obscured by the shadows cast by the high collar of his coat, leaving only the glow of his eyes to pierce through the darkness. His expression was stoic, and emotionless. The very air around him seemed to tremble, like the world was bending to his will. There was no warmth, no humanity in him. Just cold, unrelenting control.

He took a slow step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. The sound of his footsteps was barely audible, but each one sent a shiver through your spine, vibrating the ground beneath you.

You couldn’t move. Your heart hammered painfully in your chest, your legs barely holding you upright. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to fight, to do something but there was something in his gaze that made you feel like you were already caught, trapped in his web without even realizing it.

His eyes—dark, almost hypnotic seemed to be studying you. Assessing. The chains around him moved slightly, like they were waiting for his command, and you could almost feel the power radiating off of him.

Before you could react, he moved. Slowly, deliberately. His long, gloved hand reached out, his fingers curling around the hilt of his sword. With one smooth motion, he placed the cold, sharp edge under your chin, lifting it slightly, forcing your head to tilt upward so that your eyes met his. The pressure was light, but the sharpness of the blade made your skin prickle.

His eyes never left yours. They were intense, almost too intense, like they were piercing into your very soul, reading every hidden fear, every thought.

“Adorable.”

The single word hung in the air, and you didn’t know whether to be insulted or terrified. His voice was low and almost affectionate, as if he were speaking to something fragile, something delicate.

“You know, I can already see it. How sweet you'd look… under my control. Docile. Obedient.” He tilted his head, a faint smile curling at the edge of his lips. “It’s almost too easy to imagine you like that… so perfectly pliant, so ready to fall in line.”

Your heart skipped, the combination of fear and confusion making your mind race. Was he toying with you? Or was he serious? The way he spoke was both enticing and terrifying, like he was trying to lure you into something dark, something twisted, something you didn’t want to admit you were even considering.

The sword remained under your chin, the pressure just enough to remind you of how easily he could push you past the point of no return. But still, you couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. There was something about the way he looked at you—so assured, so in control that made you feel like you were drowning, like the world around you was fading away, leaving only him.

“Imagine it,” he whispered. “You, belonging to me. No fear. No pain. Just... you and me. All under my command.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your pulse quicken. Was he asking you to surrender? Was he waiting for you to break? But you couldn’t. You couldn’t even fathom the idea of giving in, of becoming another pawn in his twisted game. You could only shake your head, your breath shaky, a barely audible sound escaping your lips. “No…” you whispered, but the word felt weak, like a futile protest against something far too overwhelming.

It was the only thing you could manage in that moment, shaking your head in disbelie. But the look in his eyes… that cold, unreadable gaze that pierced through you, it hardened.

And then, that smile—the one that had previously seemed almost teasing faded into something darker, something sharper. "What? You deny me?"

His words stung, more than they should have. They echoed in your mind, pulling at something deep inside of you. The anger in his voice wasn’t just the kind you felt when you were challenged, it was disappointment, like you had failed to meet some expectation he had for you.

He stepped closer, leaning in just enough that you could feel the heat of his presence, could smell the faint scent of something dark on him. His lips almost brushed against your ear as he spoke again, his tone colder now, laced with menace.

"You think you can defy me?" he whispered. "You think you have any control in this game? In this world?"

A chill ran through you, but you stood your ground, even if only on the outside. Deep down, though, you were terrified. Terrified of what he could do. Terrified of what he was. You swallowed, trying to summon some semblance of defiance, of strength. But your voice came out in a whisper, shaky and uncertain. “I won’t... give in... to you.”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze never leaving yours. The air between you felt thick with tension, with a simmering, unspoken promise of what could come next. Then, he let out a low, almost amused chuckle, the sound deep and unsettling. "Such a brave little thing," he murmured, his voice almost affectionate. "But you’ll come to understand soon enough… everyone submits eventually."

You barely had a moment to process his words before the blade sliced through the air again, and before you could even brace yourself, the sword slashed across your side, cutting deep. The pain was instantaneous, blinding. You screamed, the cry of anguish tearing from your throat as you staggered, your body giving way beneath the weight of the injury.

Your legs failed you, and you crumpled to the ground, breath coming in ragged gasps. The world spun, and your vision blurred with tears from the searing pain. You could feel the blood dripping steadily from your wound, pooling beneath you.

But just as you started to crawl away, a shadowed hand shot out from the air, wrapping around your waist like iron. A sudden yank and you were hoisted up off the ground, your body flailing helplessly in the air. You didn’t even have the strength to fight back, cause before you knew it, you were tossed over his shoulder like a ragdoll. The movement was swift, effortless, and you were too dazed to do anything but feel the world tilt as you dangled helplessly in his grasp.

You could hear his footsteps as they echoed through the desolate, shadow-filled landscape. He moved with purpose, a slow and calculated pace, his eyes scanning the surroundings as though choosing the perfect hook.

When he found one, he didn’t hesitate. With a cold precision, the rusty hook was driven into your shoulder. The pain was instantaneous, a searing, bone-deep agony that made you scream, the sound echoing through the silent night, raw and desperate.

The world spun as you hung there, your body suspended from the hook by sheer force, your blood dripping slowly down your side, staining the ground beneath you.

And as you hung there, helpless and exposed, you watched him turn away. He didn’t look back, not even once. He dragged the sword behind him with a casual ease, the blade scraping the ground lightly, making a dull, metallic sound that sent a chill down your spine. It was like Pyramid Head's relentless, methodical walk as he dragged his own axe through the dirt.

You hung there for what felt like an eternity, the pain in your shoulder intensifying with every passing second. The Entity’s claws slowly began to emerge from the sky around the hook, creeping up from like nightmarish tendrils, their sharp, jagged tips glistening with a hunger that sent a cold shiver through you. They were coming closer, inching toward you, ready to finish the job and drag you into the void.

But it wasn’t just the pain or the claws that drove you to the edge. It was the voices. The giggling. The laughter that echoed from the shadows like a haunting symphony. It was everywhere, all around you, like the world itself had become a twisted echo chamber, filled with distorted sounds of joy and mockery. It was as if the very air itself was alive, alive with voices that jeered at you, taunted you, fed off your fear.

You could usually hang on a hook for a long time, enduring the pain, the waiting. It was a part of the game, a part of the cycle. But this?The laughter, the maddening giggles, the whispers that fluttered in and out of your consciousness, made your mind feel like it was slowly cracking apart. The voices didn’t just sound like they were taunting you—they were delighting in your suffering, savoring each moment, each second of your agony.

The giggles grew louder, more intense, like they were crawling beneath your skin, worming their way into your mind, threatening to break you from the inside out. You could feel your thoughts slipping away, as if the laughter was trying to take over, drowning out your ability to think clearly. Was this it? Was this what it felt like to lose yourself?

The urge to scream again rose in your chest, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Your voice felt useless, lost in the chaos. Instead, the only thing you could do was hang there, helpless, and wish for it to shut up—the voices, the giggling, the madness that was crawling through your brain.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

You clenched your fists, trying to hold onto your sanity, your control, anything that could keep you grounded. But every breath, every heartbeat, seemed to only make the sound grow louder, more intrusive, until you wanted to tear at your hair, rip your skin, anything to make the noise stop.

But all you could do was hang there, waiting for the inevitable.

Finally, after what felt like ages, just as you were starting to lose all hope, you felt a sudden shift. The pain in your shoulder became less sharp, almost bearable, and a figure appeared out of the darkness.

It was another survivor, limping, clearly injured—blood staining their clothes, face pale from exhaustion. They reached you quickly, their movements frantic but efficient. Without a word, they unhooked you, their hands trembling as they carefully lowered you down. You almost collapsed in their arms, your legs buckling beneath you, but they caught you before you could fall completely.

"You need to move," they whispered urgently, barely able to keep themselves steady. The moment they freed you, they were already backing away, looking over their shoulder. They didn’t even hesitate, they just turned and ran, leaving you there, breathless and confused.

As they disappeared into the shadows, you were left wobbly, weak, and disoriented. You could still hear the distant sounds of the killer's footsteps somewhere in the distance, but the laughter had subsided for the moment. The Entity's claws had retreated back into the sky, as though they were biding their time. You were no longer tethered to the hook, but your body still felt broken.

You forced yourself to move, stumbling through the darkness, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps, and your vision swam with the pain, but you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t allow yourself to collapse just yet. The only thought in your mind was finding a safe place, somewhere to heal.

You eventually found a small corner of the map, tucked away between crumbling walls and thick trees, barely visible through the shadows. There was no sign of the killer. No sign of the minions. You collapsed against the rough stone of a building, your body trembling as you began to fumble through your supplies, trying to bandage the wound and stop the bleeding.

Just as you finished bandaging your shoulder, breathing heavily in the dim light of your makeshift refuge, the sound of maddening laughter hit you again. You stiffened, your heart skipping a beat as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

You turned quickly, your breath catching in your throat.

And there it was. A shadowy figure—a dark, twisted shape lurking beside you, its form flickering in and out like it didn’t quite belong in this world. Its giggle was sharp, distorted, and it echoed in the hollow space between you and the walls, making your chest tighten with dread. You froze, staring at it in horror, unable to move.

Before you could react, it made a sudden shrill noise—louder than before, like nails scraping against glass and with no warning, it leapt onto your back. The weight of it felt like being struck by a wave of darkness, its form clinging to you like it had no intention of letting go.

The tendrils, dark and writhing shot out from its body, wrapping around your wrists, pulling them painfully against your back, pinning you in place. The creature was fast, too fast for you to think, and now it was like you were bound by invisible strings. Every movement you made was sluggish, like your body didn’t want to obey.

You tried to scream, but the creature’s presence choked the air around you, leaving you gasping for breath. It giggled again, right next to your ear, the sound grating against your nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

“Good… good… so obedient,” it hummed, its voice low and mocking, and the words wrapped around your brain like venom. "So good, so very good..."

You couldn’t make it stop. The more it spoke, the more insane the words made you feel. It was as if the very sound of its voice was slowly eroding your thoughts, making it hard to think, hard to focus.

You tried to run. Tried to push forward, to escape. But your legs wouldn’t move as they should. It was as if the very presence of the creature was dragging you down, forcing you to walk slower, each step heavier than the last. You weren’t running—you were walking, like the creature was controlling your movements, slowing you down.

“Good girl...” it whispered again, too close, making you shudder. “Stay... We’ll play forever…”

You couldn’t handle it. The overwhelming sensation of being controlled, the constant taunting laughter, the words that seemed to worm their way into your mind and stir up every fear you’d ever had. It was driving you to the edge, to the brink of madness.

But still, you fought. You fought with everything you had left. Even as the world around you seemed to distort and fade, even as your body grew heavier, you tried. You tried not to give in. But the more you resisted, the more the shadow clung to you, the more its presence slowed you, its voice growing louder in your ear.

"Good... girl..."

You stumbled through the map, your steps growing heavier with every passing second, each step like wading through thick mud. The giggling was incessant, worming its way into your ears, until the sound became more insistent than your own thoughts.

You tried to focus, tried to push back against the pull of the shadows, but your mind felt as though it were unravelling. Your thoughts started to become fuzzy, like a broken radio signal, distorted and impossible to follow. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t make sense of what was real and what was just part of the madness that the creature had wrapped around you.

Your vision started to blur, colors smearing together like paint on a canvas that was too wet. The world wavered in front of you, twisting and distorting, and each step felt like you were sinking further into a sea of confusion. The edges of your reality seemed to fray, and for a brief moment, you couldn’t even remember what you were supposed to be doing.

The laughter never stopped, only growing louder, until it felt like it was inside your skull, echoing from every corner of your mind.

And then, suddenly, the fog lifted, and you blinked—blinking hard to clear the haze from your vision.

When your blurry vision finally focused, you found yourself standing in front of the killer.

He was there, standing as still and imposing as ever. His gaze was locked on you, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. The control in his eyes was suffocating.

You didn’t know how you had gotten here. You didn’t even remember moving. But somehow, the shadow—the minion—had led you here. To him. And now, as you stood before him, unable to move, unable to think clearly, you knew the inevitable was about to happen.

The laughter in your ear faded, replaced by an eerie silence as the shadowy minion began to unravel itself from you, its tendrils loosening their grip on your wrists with a sickening wet hiss. You stumbled forward slightly, knees buckling, but didn’t fall. You could only watch as the creature slithered down your back before it moved to the killer’s side.

Then, without a word or command, the minion melted into him—its form seamlessly merging with his body, as though it had always been a part of him. Shadows coiled around him like armor, wrapping tighter as the last flicker of the creature disappeared within him.

The killer then took a single, measured step forward.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Your body obeyed his presence now, like a marionette waiting for its strings to be pulled.

He tilted his head, just slightly, his glowing eyes locked onto you with quiet amusement. And then he spoke, his voice low and smooth, yet cutting straight to the bone.

"The last survivor... at my feet. Like you should be."

The words hit you like a blow. There was no rage in his voice. No wild aggression. Only cold certainty. As if this outcome had always been written—you, here, broken and alone, with no one left to save you.

He leaned down slowly, giving you no room to flinch or retreat. His gloved hand reached out, and his fingers curled beneath your chin.

His grip was firm but not cruel. Possessive.

He tilted your head upward until your eyes were locked with his again, and everything else—your pain, the fog in your mind, the noise fell into silence. He studied you like you were something to own, something he’d hunted for and finally cornered.

His voice dropped to a whisper, brushing just over your skin. “Such a fighter,” he murmured, thumb grazing your jaw. “But even the strongest… kneel eventually.”

Without saying anything else, he stood up again and slid his sword in front of him, the blade gleaming with an almost unnatural light. The symbols carved into it began to shift, moving across the metal like they were alive.

The moment the symbols started shifting, shadowy figures began to unfurl from the killer’s body. They moved like smoke, winding and curling around him. They slithered through the air toward you, their giggles growing louder, more shrill, like a chorus of twisted voices, each one mocking you.

You tried to back away, to get away from them, but your legs wouldn’t respond. They were everywhere—surrounding you, closing you in. You shouted, desperate to push them back, to make them stop, but they didn’t listen. They just giggled more, their laugh echoing through your mind like a sick, rhythmic chant.

Some of them swatted at you with their shadowy limbs, their touch cold and mocking. Each swipe left you feeling more helpless.

"You're not strong enough," one whispered, its voice dripping with venom.

"Just give in..." another giggled.

The words were cruel, harsh, degrading. They spoke of your weakness, your failure, and it made your chest tighten with frustration and despair. You could barely breathe beneath the weight of it, the laughter, the mocking voices, the shadows that consumed everything.

And then, you felt the chains.

At first, they were slithering just outside your periphery, but before you could react, they moved quickly, wrapping themselves around your wrists. They were cold, tight, and they burned as they slithered up your arms, pulling you off the ground. Your body dangled in the air, weightless, but utterly trapped. The killer’s chains, now bound to you, pulled you higher, lifting you as if you were nothing more than a puppet in his grasp.

You looked down at him, your heart hammering in your chest, but his eyes were focused on you with that same cold, calculating gaze. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his sword.

Without warning, he sliced through the air.

The pain was unbearable.

It was a clean strike, swift and precise, but the force of it seemed to tear through your very soul. You screamed, but it was drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat rushing in your ears. Every part of you felt shattered, and you didn’t even know if you could still breathe.

And then, just as everything around you turned black, you felt the pull of the Entity’s grip once more, dragging you into unconsciousness.

When you woke up, your body was sore, aching from head to toe. The world around you was familiar, yet wrong. The scent of firewood and damp earth reached your nose before your eyes opened, and the steady crackling of the nearby campfire filled your ears.

You blinked, disoriented, as your vision slowly cleared. You were lying on the ground, just outside the survivor's camp, surrounded by familiar faces all sitting nearby, talking softly to each other.

You tried to sit up, but the ache in your body stopped you. It was as though you’d just woken from a nightmare or perhaps it had all been one.

But now, you were back here.

Back in the camp.

Like always.

After that night, you were called into two more matches. Neither of them involved the new killer. Neither of them involved that suffocating presence, that overwhelming control. But it didn't matter. Every time you returned to the camp, the memory of what had happened still clung to you, like a dark cloud hanging over your every step.

But it wasn’t just you. Other survivors had faced him, the new killer, and each time they came back, they were different. Broken, in a way. You could see it in their eyes—the vacant, haunted look that spoke volumes without a single word. They would return to the camp, their bodies battered, their minds frayed. They would fall silent, almost like the echo of the killer still lived within them, dragging them down into the depths of his control.

You’d watch as they stumbled back, each one looking less whole than before. They didn’t talk about it at first. They couldn’t, it seemed.

Eventually, when they would speak, it was always fragmented. Unclear. The words didn’t fit together like they used to. They’d speak about their match, but their minds were somewhere else.

Their sanity seemed to slip with each encounter, like pieces of them were lost in the game. It wasn’t just the physical toll of facing a killer. It was the mental and emotional cost. You could see how every time they faced him, they came back with less to give. Less of themselves to share, to offer. It was like facing him was leaving scars deeper than any cut or wound could.

You told yourself you were fine. That the first encounter hadn’t gotten to you the way it had the others. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t true. The memories of everything about him lingered like a toxin in your bloodstream.

So when the familiar pull of the Entity tugged at your core again, dragging you into another match, you expected nothing. Just another trial. Another run. Another chance to survive.

But when you opened your eyes… You were staring at the dark fortress.

That damned fortress. Its jagged stone walls and blood-tinted shadows loomed above you like the mouth of some massive beast, hungry and waiting. Your hands clenched into fists. You could only grit your teeth, the familiar sting of frustration prickling your eyes.

Really?

You tried to think positive. Maybe it’s just his map, you told yourself. The Entity had done that before—used a killer’s realm for another’s trial. Maybe this was someone else. You had to believe that. Maybe it was the Huntress, or the Trickster, or anyone else who didn’t drag your thoughts into madness with a single glance.

Please, let it be someone else.

But then you heard it.

The laughter.

That sick, echoing giggle, bouncing off every wall, carried by the wind, crawling beneath your skin. One voice at first… then two… then a dozen. It built in layers, high-pitched and overlapping, like a chorus of corrupted children whispering secrets they were never meant to know.

Your heart sank. Your spirit plummeted.

It wasn’t just his map. He was here.

Somewhere in the shadows of that fortress, sword in hand, chains dragging silently behind him like whispers of promises unkept. And the minions… they were already awake.

You pressed your back against the nearest wall, trying to steady your breathing, trying to fight the creeping sense of hopelessness threatening to swallow you whole.

You weren’t ready for this. No one ever was.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to move. One step at a time. You couldn't afford to freeze in place, no matter how tightly the fear gripped your chest. You had to find one generator, just one, and maybe, you'd have a chance to survive this.

The laughter echoed around you, still distant. It seemed to follow you, seeping through the walls like a taunt. You clenched your fists tighter, pushing forward despite the dread clawing at your insides. There was no time to waste. The longer you lingered in the open, the more vulnerable you became.

But as you moved through the fortress, each turn felt more disorienting than the last. The corridors twisted in strange directions, every door you passed seemed to mock you, every hallway a dead end.

Then, you turned another corner.

And there it was.

A throne room.

It loomed in front of you, massive, and strangely pristine, given the state of the rest of the fortress. The walls were lined with ornate stone columns, and in the center of the room stood a throne, tall and imposing, carved from obsidian. The seat seemed almost to beckon you, as if daring you to approach.

You glanced around, a sense of unease crawling up your spine. It felt like you were being watched, like the very air in the room had shifted, making your skin prickle with a foreboding presence.

You turned to look behind you, your breath catching in your throat as the faintest laughter reached your ears. The sound was so quiet at first, like a low whisper on the wind, but it grew louder, until it became unmistakable.

The laugh was right behind you.

You spun around, heart pounding in your chest. The throne. The seat that had seemed empty just moments ago was now occupied.

There, sitting in the obsidian chair, sat the killer. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as if he were sitting comfortably in his domain. And perched on his shoulder, like a twisted, grotesque pet, was one of his minions. Its dark and shadowy form flickered like smoke, its sharp teeth snapping at the air in your direction. It giggled, the sound high-pitched and unsettling, as if it took delight in the fear it was causing. The sound seemed to echo around the room, magnified, as if the walls themselves were laughing along.

Your heart thudded in your chest, the sight of him sitting so calmly in that throne sending a chill through your bones. You were frozen, caught between wanting to run and being unable to look away. Every inch of you screamed to get out but your body wouldn’t listen.

His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. There was no anger in his gaze, no wild fury, just an unsettling amusement. He didn’t say anything, but his lips curled into that eerie, cold smile again, and his eyes seemed to say everything. You were his now.

And the giggling… it didn’t stop. The minion on his shoulder let out another shrill laugh, and you could hear the rustling sound of more shadows moving around you, just beyond your sight, closing in, like a thousand eyes were watching your every move.

Suddenly, he tilted his head slightly, as though something had caught his interest. It was subtle, but there was an unmistakable shift in the atmosphere. The minion on his shoulder paused, and without warning, it detached itself from him, leaping from his shoulder and flying straight toward you.

You screamed, the sound loud and desperate, as the creature lunged at you. Its body seemed to dissolve into a dark mist before it reformed, clinging to you like a twisted parasite. The minion’s cold, clawed hands wrapped around your shoulders and chest, pulling you closer, its sharp teeth snapping in your ear as its giggles echoed in your skull. It smelled like cold stone and death, its touch icy, seeping into your skin.

You thrashed, trying to break free, but it was impossible. Its form was slippery, elusive—like it was one with the darkness, and no matter how hard you struggled, it held you tighter. You couldn’t breathe as it laughed—mocking you, taunting you.

The killer's voice cut through the madness.

“Be quiet.”

The word was spoken softly, but the weight of it was like a command, and in that moment, everything went still.

The minion on your chest froze, its body shuddering with the sound of its laughs dying in its throat. You couldn’t understand it at first, but then you realized something—it was shutting up. You didn’t even know why, but the giggling stopped, the pressure around you releasing just enough for you to suck in a trembling breath.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to shout, to demand that this nightmare end. But you couldn’t.

His words had an unnatural weight to them, and somehow, in the deep recesses of your mind, you understood—you had to obey. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your voice had been silenced, as if by some unseen force, the very command in his tone forcing you to submit.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but your mind felt like it was fogging over. The minion was still on you, but it seemed almost dormant now, no longer laughing, just clinging to you in silence.

You could feel its unsettling presence as it nuzzled against you, the chill sinking deeper into your skin. The laughter had stopped, but its taunting silence filled the void left behind. It felt like your very thoughts were being muffled by its touch.

The killer moved then. Slowly he stood and approached you, his footsteps quiet. He didn’t look angry, or even bothered. Instead, he seemed almost… contemplative, like he was thinking, carefully choosing his words.

When he reached you, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as if studying you closely. The silence stretched, and for a moment, you were certain he was trying to figure something out—something about you.

Then, he leaned forward, his gaze never leaving yours. His voice broke the quiet, low and smooth, but somehow, it carried a weight that made you want to shrink away.

“You know,” he began, his tone almost casual, “you remind me of someone.”

You didn’t know how to respond, couldn’t even form the words. You could only stare at him, your mind racing as your chest tightened with uncertainty.

He paused, still looking at you with that unblinking, unsettling gaze. Then, with a sudden snap of his fingers, a small smirk curled at the corner of his lips as if he’d figured something out.

“Yes...” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “You remind me of one of my past followers. My most devoted one, in fact.”

Your stomach turned at his words, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. You wanted to scream, to demand answers, but you couldn’t. You were frozen in place by the weight of his gaze, unable to speak, unable to do anything but listen as he continued.

“The one who died for me.” His voice softened, but the words hit you like a punch to the gut. His eyes glinted with something darker, something satisfied. “She was so loyal… so ready to give up everything for me. But in the end…” He paused, tilting his head again as if savoring the thought. “She gave up her life for me.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The mention of a past follower, someone who had been so loyal, so devoted, yet had met their end in his service made your skin crawl. Was he speaking of her with a sense of affection? You couldn’t really tell.

He straightened up, his face still unreadable, and for a moment, he just stood there, gazing at you. The minion on your shoulder shifted slightly, as though it too was listening, waiting for something more.

“And now,” he murmured, voice barely audible but chilling nonetheless, “I see the same potential in you.” His eyes darkened, the intensity rising, and you felt an overwhelming surge of fear. “You could be the same... so willing, so ready to give everything for me.”

Fear surged in your chest, thick and suffocating, but there was nothing you could do. No way to run. No voice to scream. Only the echo of his words wrapping around your thoughts, sinking their claws in.

Suddenly, with terrifying ease, the killer stepped forward and lifted your limp body off the ground.

You gasped, more from the shock than the effort but your limbs refused to fight him. Your legs dangled, your wrists still tangled in those invisible chains of command. He held you with little effort, one arm beneath your knees, the other supporting your back as if you were something fragile, something precious.

His hand moved slowly, and you felt the chill of his gloved fingers as they gently brushed your hair back from your face. The motion was almost… tender.

His expression shifted as he looked down at you. For a brief moment, he almost looked soft, like he was admiring a painting or some priceless relic he’d spent ages hunting. Then his lips curled into a smile—not warm, not kind.

It started at the corners of his mouth and spread unnaturally across his face, twisting it into something manic, something unhinged. His eyes gleamed with a hunger that sent a fresh wave of terror pulsing through you.

“I just have to charm you enough...” he whispered, his words soft, almost soothing, but his eyes told a different story—dark, hungry, and filled with crazed intent. “And then you’ll be mine. Completely. Beautifully.”

His face, now a warped blend of fascination and madness, hovered inches from yours. The warmth of his breath contrasted with the cold emptiness he radiated. You could see it in his eyes—he wasn’t asking. He wasn’t hoping.

He was promising.

The last thing you saw before your vision blurred again was his crazed smile, framed by the writhing shadows around him, as if the darkness itself had chosen to serve his obsession. And deep down, you felt it:

He wouldn’t stop until you were his.

a/n: For those who might be confused, Jungwon’s power revolves around control and domination. He has the ability to summon up to three minions at a time, which roam the map in search of survivors. Any survivors who come too close to Jungwon or his minions may be temporarily swayed into becoming loyal followers under his influence, forcing them to obey his will for a short period. Think of his power like the villain in Shazam.

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[apollodarling-writes]

Babycakes can you pretty please write a male y/n x yan!ghostface where y/n doesn’t die in the end and lowkey falls in love 🤭 (also pretty please make ghostface a praiser 🙏🏽)

FAMOUS LAST WORDS

yan! dbd! ghostface x gen jockey! male! reader

cws : yandere themes, a bit of dry humping, praise, creampie, choking, rough sex, kinda ?? handjob (reader receiving), orgasm control, knife play, anal, pronebone, dubcon??? , mentions of public masturbation, thigh fucking, danny is a tease, reader cleans his blood off of the bowie so blood play but ingestion??? , cum eating i guess but the reader is made to clean up his cum from danny’s gloves.

the fog that hung between the trees was particularly thick this trial. the red forest was known for being hard to navigate in some areas due to the low lighting, and the natural fog scattered throughout the landscape was of no help either. you were unsure if one of the survivors offered the entity a bottle of murky reagent, but it had become harder to see than it already was. you suppose you couldn’t complain as it made you harder to track, and thus it was easier to hide.

your group had completed two generators without a single person being hooked. anxiety knotted your stomach as you mulled over what the killer was up to. was the killer waiting for your group to finish the generators and then camp the gates? were they watching from the shadows and getting some sort of sick pleasure from watching the lot of you squirm? the answer to these questions was beyond your reach, and you knew that all you could do was focus on the task at hand. if you struck the wires too early, you would blow up the generator and the killer would surely know your location if they didn’t already.

a chill runs the length of your spine, gooseflesh raising the hairs on your body. you stop repairing the generator for a moment, the feeling of being watched prevalent as your swivel your head to find the source of the gaze. you’d been in this realm long enough to abide by your instincts. your gaze flits through the trees, your heart thumping in your chest as you are unable locate the source. chalking it up to the quietness of the trial, you busy your hands with firing the wires of the generator, successfully sparking one portion. you sift through your toolbox, searching through old and rusted scraps for something to replace one of the broken parts.

a hand suddenly grips the back of your neck, hoisting you off the ground. a hand muffles your cry of protest, bending your front over the generator.

“shhh… just be quiet now, baby.” a muffled voice all but pants, their chest pressing against your back as they lean forward to whisper in your ear. “i’ve finally got you to myself….”

you recognize that voice — the ghostface. realization washes over you; the quietness of the trial, feeling watched, the lack of a terror radius…. it all made sense now. your tongue darts out to lick the leathery material of his gloved palm in a feeble attempt to get him to release you.

“be patient now,” the ghostface groans, “we’ll get there, pretty boy.”

the ghostface maneuvers his fingers to grip your wrists, pinning them behind your back while grinding his half-hard cock into the meat of your ass. you squirm at his touch, feeling disgusted at the desperate panting the man behind you let out.

“i know you’ve been thinking about this,” the masked man grunts, his breath hitching. “i’ve seen you fuck yourself in trials before — did’ya think i wouldn’t know?”

shame and embarrassment wash over you, a quiet whimper leaving your lips as a hand snakes around to palm you through your bottoms. “n—not here… please—“

“god, look at how cute you are,” the ghostface coos, his gloved hand slipping past your waistband and cupping your length. “keep begging like that and i won’t be able to control myself.”

“i’m not—“

“ah-ah, quiet now… don’t you wanna be good for me, baby?” he purrs, your hips bucking as his thumb brushes against your cockhead. ”mmm, so sensitive. i think im gonna have fun with you…”

the ghostface’s hand tugs down your pants, your protests going unheard as you hear his robes shift. his cock slides between your thighs — the intrusion unwelcome and unfamiliar.

“stop… i cant — we can’t… not here.” you panic, your gaze flitting through the areas you could see. god forbid any of the other survivors witness this and get the wrong idea. you’d be considered a fucking traitor. maybe they’d even think you were selling them out. or, shit, what if they thought you were slutting yourself out to survive?

“shut the fuck up,” he groans, his cock brushing against your shaft. “just sit there and look pretty for me, ‘kay?”

your mouth immediately closes, figuring it would be better to just let him have his way and hopefully all five gens will be done by the time he finishes. your body is tense with shame and guilt, your thighs clenched around the masked man’s length in an attempt to get him off faster.

the ghostface spits in his hand, wrapping his fingers around you again, and pumps you in time with each thrust. with each movement, you find yourself melting into his touch, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet. he was too good at this, and he fucking knew.

“y’like that, baby?” you could hear the smirk in his tone.

“fuck you.“ you grit out, hating that you were becoming aroused at such an invasive, disgusting act.

“oh, i plan to, little bunny.”

the masked man removes his hand just as you were on the cusp of your orgasm, a soft whine leaving your lips. your cockhead is flushed an angry red, beads of precum now smeared along your shaft. “why’d you—“

you suck in a breath as a finger slowly dips into your ass, curling into your g-spot. the feeling was foreign, and it hurt like a bitch, but fuck did it feel good. “yeah? just like that, pretty boy?”

he slowly pumps his finger, careful not to hurt you as he works up to another one; his fingers scissor and stretch, curling into your prostate. before you knew it, the man had gotten three fingers in you, your legs shaking and your whimpers increasing in volume as you come closer and closer to your climax.

“fuck — ‘m gonna cum.” you pant, your back arching as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers. through a lust-induced haze, you hear a faint chuckle before the sensation you crave eludes you. the ghostface removes his digits, your cock twitching and aching for release.

“oh, you poor thing. were you gonna cum?” the man murmurs teasingly, his own erection throbbing beneath the layers of his robes. he eagerly grips the back of your neck and ushers you on your stomach behind the generator, lifting his clothing just enough to carefully push inside of you.

“y’so fuckin’ tight..!” he hisses, releasing your wrists to press down on your lower back. your fingers find purchase in the dirt of the forest floor as the ghostface slowly thrusts into you, your gummy walls hugging the man’s cock so deliciously.

with each thrust, you found it harder and harder to control your volume. with the way the man had angled himself, the tip of his cock bumped against your g-spot damn near constantly. your stomach tightened as your release began to approach once more, desperate whimpers and whines leaving your lips as tears pricked your eyes.

“i’m gonna cum – ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum…” you whine, “please, i need more!”

the killer groans in ecstacy at your desperation, his cock twitching inside of you as one hand wraps around your throat, lifting you from the dirt. “gonna have to fuck you more often, yeah? youre doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby.”

his digits tighten around your throat, cutting off your air supply as your jaw slackens at the brutal pace. a gurgled moan parts your lips, your face growing red from the lack of oxygen. mercifully, he releases his grip on you, but is quick it with the cold steel of his bowie knife.

the ghostface snakes an arm around your midsection, pumping your cock in time with each mind-numbing thrust. you hold yourself up as the blade trails along your flesh, drawing thin lines of blood. it seemed that the man was getting off on the pain he inflicted, his thrust becoming harder, faster.

the blade trails up, pressing against your lips. “open up, baby. gotta clean up your mess.” the ghostface breathily groans, his thrusts growing sloppy.

your lips part, the blade resting on your tongue as your lips close around it. it tastes like iron, your own blood coating your tongue as your cock twitches in the killer’s fist. ropes of cum spill onto the leather of your assailant’s glove, a long moan erupting from your throat as your vision blurs with tears. your hips buck into his grasp, the killer never once stopping. your mind melts into a delicious quiet, the only thing you’re able to focus on is how fucking good it feels.

“fuck — you feel so fucking good, bunny.” he groans, sheathing his blade and replacing it with the cum stained leather. “be a good boy and clean off my glove, yeah?”

the killer pants as you mindlessly obey his order, the bitter taste seemingly only serving to arouse you further. you lap at the cum on his glove while the killer fucks into you with fervor, breathy groans leaving him as the chill of his mask presses into your shoulder. the ghostface weakly thrusts into you as his climax washes over him. his cock twitches inside of you, cum painting your insides as he slowly comes down from his high.

the man is quick to fix his attire as the exit gate sounds, leaving you breathless as cum drips down your thighs, the scent of dirt and sex staining your clothing. with shaky legs, you pull up your bottoms and quietly mull over what just happened as you make your way to the exit gate on the opposite side of the map.

[paintedonmyteeth]

Sleepy Cuddles w/ Pyramid Head 🩸🔪 △

Pyramid Head brainrot goes brrr. Pyramid Head brainrot is forever eternal, anyway — yeah I have yet another post of Pyramid Head because I’m bored, my brain had ideas, and I NEED him so I feel like catering myself once again w/ Pyramid Head. That’s all I can say. OH YEAH might I add, rather than Silent Hill’s PH like my last few posts this time I decided this time around I’m gonna do DBD Pyramid Head. Also a heads up for the small nsfw warning in this post, so MDNI.

Doing back to back trials or maybe more is always tiring. Leaves you all sleepy asf, grumpy, and really not wanting to be thrown into another trial for the entity’s amusement.

Usually you’d try sleeping around the campfire or take short naps, literally whenever you have the chance to do so before the entity drags you off to another random map, and it can get pretty annoying when you don’t get no breaks to rest. >:((

And what’s better than looking for none other than your favourite tall killer, the Executioner for some cuddles???

If you need cuddles or sleep, Pyramid Head’s always there in Midwich waiting for you whenever he’s not busy with any trials of his own. :))

He loves earning small visits from you while the both of you have some time to spend when the Entity isn’t calling for either of you for the next trial.

The two of you meet up usually in the halls of the school or some random classroom if Pyramid Head happened to be looking for you first. The nurses office is where the two of you kick back and relax in each other’s company most often, because that’s where all the old mattresses are left on the rusted metal bed frames.

The beds are way too small to fit with Pyramid Head’s large figure so the both of you would settle with stripping off all the mattresses from the bed frames, lie them all on the floor stacked atop each other by 2 by 4 for bigger space.

Cuddles w/ the big guy are the fucking best. And he enjoys cuddling you too.

Because of the huge height differences between the both of you, he thinks you’re the perfect size so he could gently squeeze you in his arms while you’re all curled up with him.

And don’t forget about them man tiddies, his tiddies are the best for a pillow but in the end, you’re waking up with a sore neck. But it’s fucking worth it. >:))

It’s also soothing listening to his breathing from his rusted helmet or the soft growls rumbling from his chest, which kind of reminds you of thunder rolling through the sky in the distance.

As I mentioned the last time in one of my other hc posts with Pyramid Head, he’s a fuckin’ walking heater and all that body heat radiating from him while you’re pressed against him with his arms around you is just pure bliss.

Feels so nice to pass out in his arms especially with all that exhaustion and the multiple trials you went through still racking your brain, and he likes it how easily you conk out the moment you get comfy with him just in a matter of seconds.

On some small occasions there’s times where Pyramid Head is also hornee and wanting help with finding some relief, once granted consent he’ll keep in mind how tired you are after all those trials you went through of course, this time around he’ll restrain himself from going too rough on you and will opt to fucking you gently and at a slower pace. Getting some relief out of this and also helping you destress, a small little reward for doing such a great job. <33

After cuddles and naps with Pyramid Head you’re feeling all rejuvenated and energized to keep pushing on through more trials the entity has yet to throw at you.

Sometimes it’s not enough and Pyramid Head will decide to keep you for a little while longer, drawing the entity’s attention in some instances and having to fight with them in order to prevent the entity from ripping you away from his grip.

Few minutes wasn’t enough he wants more time with his precious. Fuck off. >:((

Besides the exhaustion or stress from everything in the entity’s realm, you still visit Pyramid Head whenever just for more cuddles or naps to give the big guy some company and spend more time with your beloved Executioner.

🥩⋆♱✮♱⋆🔪 🩸

[mikkeneko]

I don't plan to write much in the DBD space, but this idea came to me, a variation on the scene in episode 1:

---

"Hear me out," Charles said.

Edwin let out an eloquent sigh. "I already know what argument you are going to make, and the answer is no," he said.

"Crystal would make a great addition to our operations!" Charles forged on undeterred. "I mean, imagine having a psychic on board! Think of how many possibilities it would open up -- it'd be brilliant --"

"Charles, no. No living people," Edwin said firmly.

" -- just, the opportunities it would give us," Charles continued to plead. "So many avenues which have been, just, completely closed to us before, we'd suddenly be able to do --"

"We already have enough to do, Charles, we are not going to adopt this girl," Edwin insisted.

"C'mon, mate, just think of it!" Charles wheedled. He reached over to the side of the small closet they were huddling in and flung open a cabinet door that had been closed for so long it had almost rusted shut.

Inside the cabinet, stacked neatly and then left to languish, were rows upon rows of brightly colored boxes. Settlers of Catan, Ticket to Ride, Gizmos, Lords of Waterdeep, Pandemic, Three Kingdoms, Quirkle, Forbidden Island, Azul, Wingspan, Agricola… the titles went on and on, all of them acquired and then abandoned to languish in the back of the cabinet, each labeled with those damning words --

Edwin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Three to five players, Ed!" Charles pleaded with him. "Just imagine what we could do with three whole players!"

"....Fine," Edwin capitulated. "She can join."

"You know I can hear you guys, right?" Crystal's muffled voice came through the wall.

----

As Charles was to shortly discover, adding a psychic to the party was not the best approach to competitive board gaming.

[writer-freak]

Hi! If it's ok with you, (spoilers for Hooked On You, that DBD dating sim)

In one of the endings you get appointed as Jr. Deputy Entity and left in charge while The Entity goes on vacation.

Anyway, can I request Philip Ojomo with a reader that has been left in charge as The Entity's replacement? It doesn't have to be in the Hooked On You version, I actually think it may be more interesting in the context of the original Dead By Daylight.

You can include any other characters you want, but I'm mostly interested in The Wraith to be honest.

Thanks in advance!

Thank you so much, I wrote it in the original Dead by daylight universe and made it more angsty and open ended. If this isn't what you had in mind feel free to request again <3.

You never expected to be left in charge.

One moment, the trials were running as normal, Killers hunting, Survivors scrambling, the cycle of life and death playing out just as the Entity demanded.

The next, the Entity itself, the one forcing you to repeat this never ending horror, simply left. No explanation. No grand spectacle. Just a vague notion of "vacation" and an unsettling sense of absence.

The weight of its realm ended up onto your shoulders like a heavy cloak, suffocating and cold.

The killers felt it immediately. Some stopped mid-hunt, heads tilting toward the sky as if they could sense the shift. The ever-present hum of the Entity's hunger faded to a dull, distant echo, and something in the air loosened like a thread loosening.

Now you were watching the trials below with an unsteady heart. The twisted landscape plays beneath your gaze, looping through broken realms, endless loops of suffering. The fog seems thicker, more restless, curling around your ankles like it’s waiting for direction.

You’re supposed to give it.

A low clang echoes behind you, distant and metallic. You turn just as Philip Ojomo, The Wraith, emerges from the mist.

His weapon dangles loosely from his hand, fingers curled around the rusted metal like it might slip away. He just stands there watching, the same way he always does like he’s looking through you, seeing the pieces no one else does.

"What does this mean for us?" he finally asks, voice low and rough.

It takes you a second to find words.

"I... don’t know yet."

Philip steps closer, his big frame that shadowed you should be frightening, but somehow it comforted you. He’s careful with his movements, like he knows the strength he carries and doesn’t want to wield it recklessly. The bell in his hand lets out a faint, ghostly chime as he shifts.

"You control the trials now?" he asks, voice echoing in the stillness.

"I guess so. The Entity didn’t exactly leave me a handbook." You try for humor, but it falls flat.

Philip is silent for a long time, his head tilting slightly. You wonder what he’s thinking if he’s debating killing you right here, testing if you're really the one in charge. But he doesn't move. Instead, he lets out a low breath, almost like a sigh.

"You shouldn’t stay out here" he mutters, glancing at the fog getting thicker around you two. "The others... they’re restless."

You swallow hard. You already know that.

The Trapper has been more brutal than usual, dragging trials out for hours, his traps placed with sadistic precision. The Huntress hums her lullabies louder, her axe swings growing reckless and wild. The Killers are testing limits, waiting to see what happens when they push too far.

Waiting to see if you’ll stop them.

"Let them be restless" you say, voice quieter than you want it to be. "I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do."

"You could stop this" he says carefully, like he’s afraid of the words. "You could change everything."

Your chest tightens.

"I don’t know if I should" you admit. "The Entity’s coming back. Eventually. And when it does..." You trail off, throat tight, rubbing your arms like you can chase away the cold creeping in from the fog. "If I change things... if I mess this up... what do you think it’ll do to me?"

Philip’s fingers twitch around the handle of his weapon.

"You’re scared" he states, voice quiet. Not accusatory. Just... understanding.

"Of course I am." You let out a bitter laugh, swiping a hand down your face. "I don’t belong here. I don’t know why I got stuck with this. I’m not a god. I’m not the Entity. I’m just... me."

Philip watches you, his gaze heavy. He takes a small step forward, then another, until he’s close enough that the chill radiating off his body seeps into your skin.

"We’re scared too" he finally says, voice barely above a whisper.

You blink up at him, throat tight.

"You?" you echo, barely believing it. "But you’ve been here forever. What could you possibly be scared of?"

Philip glances away, jaw tight. He rolls his shoulders, fingers flexing like he’s trying to shake off an ache buried deep beneath the surface.

"When it comes back," he mutters, "if it doesn’t like what you’ve done... it won’t just punish you." His voice goes lower, rougher, as he looks back at you. "It’ll punish all of us."

The words sink in like stones.

You stare at him, heart pounding in your chest. He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t need to. You already understand what he means. The trials could get worse. The punishments harsher. The Entity could stretch out its claws and twist this place into something even more brutal than before because of you.

Philip shifts, his clothes rustling as he turns away from you, like he can’t quite meet your gaze.

"But if you try to help" he says carefully, "even just a little... we’ll take the risk."

You bite the inside of your cheek, your pulse hammering in your ears.

"You’d risk making it angry?" you whisper.

Philip nods, slow and deliberate.

"For you?" he rasps. "Yes."

The fog curls tighter around your ankles, tendrils lapping at your boots like cold fingers. The realm is watching, waiting, listening. But Philip is the only thing you focus on the weight of his words, the faint tremor in his voice.

"What do you want me to do, Philip?"

His eyes darken, and he doesn’t answer right away. He lifts his weapon again, fingers curling around the handle. The metal is tarnished with blood and rust, a reminder of what he’s done, what he’s been forced to do.

"You could free us" he says eventually, voice barely a whisper. "Or you could let it continue."

He shifts, stepping back, the fog swallowing part of his figure.

"Either way," he mutters, "we’ll follow you now."

He fades into the mist with a low, distant chime of the bell, leaving you standing there with a thousand unanswered questions, the weight of an entire realm pressing down on you and a choice heavier than anything in the realm itself.

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

[peachsequence]

Dead by Daylight Writing Prompts - 🎃Haddonfield 🎃

Note: Going for the vibe of DBD's isolated, lonely Haddonfield rather than the Halloween movies. Maybe I'll do the movie versions later?

porch lights glowing on empty houses

a breeze carrying the smell of decaying leaves

jack-o'-lanterns grinning with candles that never burn out

a dusty sofa pointed at a TV displaying white static

the hum of streetlights

a rusted swing set in a backyard

abandoned police cars flashed red and blue lights on an old white house

indistinct chatter from a radio

family photos with blurry faces

an untouched candy bowl with faded wrappers

dark windows overlooking the street

cracked sidewalks

a phone hanging off the hook

cobwebs gathering in the corner of a room

blood dried into the carpet

broken windows and collapsed porches

a knife resting on a kitchen counter

an open front door, a too-quiet house

large leafy hedges, perfect for hiding behind

no birds, no insects, just wind that sounds like breathing

leaves falling in the same looping pattern

something waiting in the silence, patient

[bubblegumcandywhore]

Something I used to do to express gender was just listing off random things, titles, and adjectives like it was a shopping list of a sort. So I encourage all to do the same. Here is my gender list;

Debutante, bug girl, siren, doe, shaking a bloodied slab of meat in my mouth like a dog and having the blood splat everywhere, hand of madness, an interlocking and puzzling cube simultaneously and continuously moving and changing dimensional shape, star dust, Rust, Succubus, Sharp crystal points, murderous clown, purple, florida morning skies, mania and dementia, mad god, monk, demon queen, priestess, plague (both the disease(s) and character from DBD), dirty doll found in an abandoned building, forest oak, rotting/rotten/rot, decayed log but with a whole city of life regarding bugs and worms, brain in a jar, jelly fish, tentacles, Pirate, holy knight, divine entity, balance, yin and yang, blades such as swords and sickles, bo staff, pink, bows and ribbons, puppeteer, puppet with torn strings, fire flies, a swarm of flies/bees/wasps (bugs that go bzzz), bones and tar, eldritch, ribcage, roots beneath the trees, royal blue, 333, 777, 222, 555. Angel girl with black wings, mother miranda, Daniela/bela/cassandra Dimitrescu, snow white/Narissa/vivian/Faith(The wolf among us), Louise/Tina/Bob (bobs burgers), A prism of white that shines rainbow, color wheel, every color through light, white diamond/Lapis Lazuli /Sapphire/Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz/Amethyst/Sugilite/Opal(SU), Hearts 🫀♥️, brain, sinew, mortal flesh but a immortal being, experiences but never anything more than a moment in time, embarrassed sad little woman, Crows, Cats, Snakes/Reptiles, Wisp, a cloud of star dust, forged iron, Black, pearls, clouds, melted wax, lit candles, white roses, black lilies, morning glories. Genderless cryptid, mothman, la lorona, ghost, a figment, non existent but present, a paradox in design. A moral fabric in a sea of cruelty, red/poisoned apples, soft humming, lanterns, Mileena/Sindel/Scarlett(MK), torches, keys, locks/door knobs, water, air, lightning. Botany, whimsical, fruity little creature, stained glass mural, red meat, strawberry cow, blood and snow driven woman, crazy cat lady, hollowed, stoic, solemn, eery, kind, loving, orchids, instead of organs its machinery and my heart is made of a giant carved ruby that glows when i open my torso, the little mermaid, Witch, shadows, Daisies, the sun and the moon; twilight, mystical af wizard in a leaning tower casting spells in a robe and pointy hat littered with glowing stars. And finally, Planets. Planetary orbit, Saturn, Uranus(shut it.), earth, venus. Andromeda, the milky way, the asteroid belt.

WRITE UP YOUR LIST I WISH TO SEE EVERYONES!!

Pronouns: Elle/Them

(elle is french for she, pronouns in other languages sound so much prettier then whatever the english language has going on.)

[unfriendlyamazon]

dead by daylight au (wip wednesday)

got sick this weekend and was literally watching dead by daylight gameplay as asmr i've threatened this before but here's the start of my kaijou dbd au be aware this is horror i'm going all in on the violence, gore, and terror of having a big honking monster want to fuck you

Jounouchi’s sneakers barely made a sound as he crept through the tall grass. Dense fog folded over the strange landscape that twisted all around. Overturned scientific equipment flickered to life briefly, sending ghostly lights over the cracked concrete. He kept to the edges of the shadows. Sometimes, in the distance, he could see the shadow of a person, peering through the gloom and disappearing just as quickly. He listened for music, and the steadiness of his heart.

A single spotlight cut through the darkness of the tall grass. A generator, one someone had started working on. It hummed with baleful coughs of black plumes. He removed the red casing to peer at the interior. His whole body shivered as his hands worked, keeping an eye out on all sides. His hands halted when he heard a distant scream. It cut through the center of the map, with black crows bursting from the brush. Light burst in his vision, and far away he could see the shape of his friends. The scream was Anzu’s, he recognized it as soon as he heard it. Her shape hung from the low hooks that dotted the area, legs kicking the air as her weight bore down on the rusted metal. Yuugi and Honda were across the map, bent over their own generator. That made Jounouchi the closest, and as the tall shape of the killer turned his face Jounouchi’s way, he knew he was screwed.

He dropped away from the generator and ducked behind the nearest half wall. A tall shadow poured through the fog. Its shape mimicked the clean swooping curves of the crashed space station that shattered across the ground. Long spikes made broad shoulders, and the white cape that fluttered down disguised the thin black limbs underneath. Two eyes shone in the darkness, bright and blinding blue. They blinked across the landscape, and as they met him, Jounouchi burst forward. A mechanical whirr sounded behind him, and as he saw a window into the compound, he vaulted one handed over the dingy metal right as a blue flash burst towards him. It slammed against the wall to his right, and Jounouchi didn’t stop. Music blared in his air, the rapid squeal of a horror anthem, and his heartbeat was loud in his ear. The rounded corridors of the spaceship could send you in circles if you didn’t know what to look for, but Jounouchi had started to remember. Left to the bodies still trapped in hazmat suits flung across the floor. Right past the central engine that was now inert and sparking. He could hear the killer behind him, crashing against wooden pallets and firing off attacks whenever it was close enough. Jounouchi slid across a covered path and kept his momentum going straight, and too late he realized where he was. No, no, it was left instead of right. Not here. Anywhere but here.

He staggered back into the basement. There was no way out but right in front of him. Three hooks decorated the center, with loot tucked away. Here, a metal slab lay covered in an inky black goo that still squirmed. No, no, he had to get out now!

He swiveled, and stopped. The killer stood at the entranced of the basement. Tall, oh, so tall, he towered in a long sloop, arms boxed in front of him. White armor made sharp edges to his torso, with the long white leather coat hanging over feet the arched forward on short heels. His limbs were like black organic cables tied together in the facsimile of a man, connecting the armored hands like rope. The black crawled up the length of his neck, stopping short of the chin, where an almost human face grinned at Jounouchi. Blue eyes like headlights peered through green hair, and the skin was stretched over his face like a mask. His mouth pulled back, showing rows of razor teeth and a black tongue. His toes dragged forward, left arm bulging momentarily as the coils beneath shifted and rolled over each other. The arm bent jerkily, and then with a burst of energy it started forward, grabbing Jounouchi by the neck.

It felt like years ago now that Jounouchi and his friends had first seen the Cyborg crawl from the wreckage of the Kaiba Corp space station. It had landed on an island off shore of their home town, and so they took the ferry to explore. Yuugi was an avid believer in cryptids and sure they would see something strange, and how right he’d been. They’d run from the creature, and the fog had enveloped the island whole. Here, there were no days to count by, only lives lost or won. It was always night, always gloom, always oppressively penned in. After the first few deaths, the shock had worn off. They always ended up back in the same place, the campfire, where they waited for the next hunt to begin.

“Fuck you!” Jounouchi snarled, kicking his feet against the creature. He bared his teeth and shouted again, “Fuck off!”

He bit down into the strange coils that made up the Cyborg’s tendons. His teeth sunk into the sludge, and he gagged immediately on the slick oily coat, and then the burst of black oil that drenched his tongue. They Cyborg growled, and a sparking sound was the only warning Jounouchi had before electricity burst against his skin. He howled, keening back, and his body slammed onto the metal slab. His throat choked with the unnatural blood, and he groaned as he tried to roll off his side. He caught a glimpse of the creature raising a shaky armored hand to close over the black tendril that now wailed wildly in the breeze. It twisted and folded like a snake, but he managed to grasp the coil and squeeze it back to his limbs, closing his fist over it. Underneath the white, the black shadow of a body shifted like skin shouldn’t.

Jounouchi twisted off the metal slab and tried to squeeze around the Cyborg before it could catch him, and instantly a clawed hand curled at his back. He was thrown bodily back onto the slab and held there with a metal palm. Clawed fingers scraped against the blue shirt he wore, tearing at the fabric as it squeezed. He looked up, and the Cyborg was standing over him, too human face staring down at him. Electric green hair, bright spotlight eyes, and a mouth that twisted up into a smile. Jounouchi could see clearly the marking on the stiff collar: S.Kaiba.

“I can sense you,” the Cyborg said, a metallic gnarl to his voice. “Your fear, your heat, your heart.”

His claws dug deeper into Jounouchi’s skin. He sucked in a breath. Why the creature hadn’t thrown him over his shoulder and dragged him to the hook, he didn’t know, but it gave the others time. The longer he played with Jounouchi, the easier it would be for his friends.

He brought his foot up, kicking it against the Cyborg’s chin. The creature grabbed his leg and dragged him up while still keeping his chest pinned. He shifted his weight so he was completely over Jounouchi. It was all the more apparent that whatever was beneath the white armor, it wasn’t human. The coils rolled against each other, stirring where they felt Jounouchi’s heat. The nest of snakes beneath his body reached over Jounouchi’s skin.

“Something about you,” the Cyborg hissed, and his black tongue stretched past his teeth, slathing against Jounouchi’s cheek, “is so human.”

Fuck, for how skinny he looked, he was heavy. Jounouchi twisted this way and that, but he was held hard against the strange shape underneath. Coils separated from his tendons and started to reach across Jounouchi’s body. It was a curious, almost tender search. The slick oiled sensation of the tendrils made his skin shiver. They had a thick weight to them, almost cool against his sweat drenched body. His stomach flexed instinctively, and his lips shuddered as he breathed out.

“Hook me already,” Jounouchi said. “I’m caught.”

“Like a bug.” The Cyborg cackled, an electronic sound that glitched as his hand dragged down Jounouchi’s shirt. It tore at the fabric, revealing his chest.

He hadn’t seen sunlight in he didn’t know how long, and his own body seemed pale, not helped by the sheen of sweat that coated him.Ancient scars made patchworks on his skin, including the top surgery scars bright pink against his usually tanned body. The Cyborg traced the marks, and he let out another shaky breath.

“Let’s see,” the Cyborg said, still grinning, “what makes you tick.”

[slashersgostabbystabstab]

Hold

I took a break from writing Xenomorph stuff and decided to play some DBD. To my surprise, I encountered a Singularity who (thanks to my username Singularity Plz <3 ) sacrificed everybody except me. Even wished me a Happy Birthday in endgame chat. It delighted me so much I couldn't stop smiling, so I wrote a fast and crappy fic but was too sleepy to actually post it.

It was written super fast under the influence of complete elation so as I said, it's no doubt crappy like literally there is no editing lol. I'll pump out better fics when I actually sit down and give myself a decent amount of time ^^

Reminder that short fics for Seven and Hux are always open!

Words: 1618

Out of all the killers you could have picked as your partner, you just had to go and choose the one that was guaranteed to give you little to no affection. Emphasis on the “no” part of that phrase. He was sure to never give you a sweet nor ardent kiss, let alone hug you properly with the limbs he constructed onto his body. Hell, he would never provide any comforting words if he miraculously tried to. It just wasn’t in his programming nor newfound awareness to show any sort of sentiment. 

But even with chances as low as yours, you really did try for his affections no matter how much of a beggar it made you seem. Thankfully nobody else was ever aware of your foolish advances. 

And foolish was how somebody may have referred to you as if they had become witness to the sight involving you and the egotistical robot you called your partner. While his grappling claw fiddled with the various buttons on the panel belonging to the cloning hub, you were seated beside him with eyes glued on his form. As you gave him your most intent stare that explored every region of his anatomy, Hux stood almost completely still with what could be considered an equally fixated stare. And he never once paid any mind to you. 

Hux never took notice of the way you watched him struggle with the machine’s panel, only being aware that your presence was in his own. If anything he made sure to push your attendance to the back of his CPU; at least that was what his inner voice tried to convince him on. And you could admittedly say that you didn’t mind it one bit, this being one of those moments where being with him was almost sufficient. 

Nonetheless you remained sitting on your crate with your eyes never tearing away from him. From the entirety that was his self-made, perfect body. A smile was present on your features whilst your chin lay on the palm of your hand that was supported by the other arm that was crossed. With how lovingly you gazed at the murderous machine, you once again thanked the Entity that no killer was in your radius to see this. Let alone a fellow survivor. 

Let alone Hux’s surveillance. 

Had the word foolish been in his vocabulary and had he been paying attention to you, you were sure he would have voiced his opinion on your pathetic ogling. But alas, he somehow did not have his eyes everywhere and did not once realize that you had now inched closer towards his figure. 

You unfolded your arms to instead place them on your lap, smile widening just a tad bit more before you took another few inches off the distance between you and him. With this new proximity you took the opportunity to glance down at his modular hook that dug into the metallic flooring of the colony ship. The robot always stood in the same exact spot every time he worked on the cloning hub, having caused a dent in the ground only visible when his hook moved from said location. 

Your eyes followed up the sharp weapon ever so slowly to admire every bit of rust, and dried blood, that coated it. Not paying much mind to those bits of his claw, your eyes resumed their trail to the rest of his limb that entangled his flesh around the machinery. Seeing as Hux still disregarded you despite your intense observing, you cleared your throat loud enough to call out to him. But the only thing to come from Hux was the whirring sounds of his machine parts moving, signaling that he had not gone into sleep mode. Meaning he intentionally was keeping his attention on the cloning hub’s screen. 

You gave another clear of your throat with a slightly faltered smile, but in no way did your sense of determination fluctuate. So you subsequently removed your hands from your lap to lift yourself off of the crate, spinning around until you were facing in the same direction as Hux. Even then he only moved his claw that continued to do Entity knows what on the hub’s panel. 

Having spun your body around, you scoot even closer towards Hux with your right hand placed on your side. And although your left one mimicked the other, this one instead slid over the crate’s surface in an inconspicuous manner. 

Finally you turned away from Hux, but you did so in a playfully unknowing way as though you never took notice of what you were doing and instead stared at the hub’s screen. Once your hand reached the edge of the crate and began to hover in the air, your fingers cautiously reached out to where you knew Hux’s claw was positioned. 

Still watching the cloning hub, your fingers bit by bit stuck together before clasping onto the hook’s back side. Perhaps not the smartest decision, but it was the only comfortable way of holding the claw without it being awkward. More awkward than it already was, at least. 

The corners of your lips shot upwards at the contact while you still looked away from Hux, even when he instantly shot a look in your direction due to somehow having felt the hold on his hook.

“What are you doing?”

At long last you returned your gaze to his form, taking your time before your eyes met with his visor’s lights.

“What was that?”

“What are you doing?” Hux repeated, never once moving a single inch. 

“I’m just sitting here.” you gave a shrug before turning away with a tightened grip on his claw. “What are you doing?”

Just like moments earlier, you were met with a deafening silence that prompted you to look back at him with your same smile. Hux, despite the lack of emotions, gave you a stare that pierced right into your soul. Or it would have if you had been any other being that didn’t know him. 

“What?” you chuckled with a new grin before your eyes fell on your hand holding his claw. “Oh! Is that bothering you?”

“Yes.”

Hux’s immediate response had honestly caught you off guard, smiling face gone and instead replaced with wide eyes that looked at the ship’s wall with lightning speed. Your hand released Hux’s claw with the same speed before your hands were returned to your lap in a shame the robot was not aware of. Crazy how a robot could mortify you like that. 

“Sorry.” you mumbled with a clear of your throat, all confidence having flown out the window. “I’ll make sure not to do that again.”

“Why not?”

Now your eyebrows furrowed at Hux’s new question, making you turn to him with a blink of your perplexed eyes. 

“You just said-”

“Your directive never was to stop.” 

For a robot, he gave really confusing signals. He claimed the holding bothered him, but here he is saying he doesn’t want it to stop. Was he lying? Was he even capable of lying?

Nevertheless you gave a sigh, not sure if it was due to a newfound consolation, before your smile returned to your face. With this new relief in you, you reached your hand out to Hux and took hold of his modular claw once more. 

“This treatment is infernal.”

“Huxlee, I don’t even know what you want at this point.” You removed your hand from him again much to his disliking, causing him to finally turn his entire body to face you with his usual stare. At this, you crossed your arms with your smile remaining visible. “You want me to let you go, you don’t want me to let you go. And then you never give me a straight answer. Just how am I supposed to keep you happy?”

“I am not capable of feeling human emotion.”

“I know that.” you chuckled. “But I also know you won’t tell me to back off after this,”

No matter how many mixed signals he gave you, this was one thing you didn’t need any indication for. After standing up to meet Hux’s eyes, you took hold of his head before planting a quick kiss on the middle of his visor. And he, like many other times, remained still while his CPU recalculated just what had happened. 

“Holding…is acceptable.” Rang out his words from his voice box, making you grin at his sudden change of words. “Do not touch the modular claw.”

Was this another mixed signal, or a sort of threat?

“Human flesh is too feeble for a weapon such as that one.”

No, it was a warning. His way of looking out for you, even if it didn’t sound like it. 

“Then what can I hold?” you tilted your head to the side before Hux mimicked your action. However, his head snapped down soon after before you followed his gaze that landed on his projectile claw. And to your surprise, he lifted it and reached out to you rather than expect you to take the limb yourself. 

Your smile returned once more before you accepted his claw and met him halfway, holding his metallic fingers which gingerly curled around your own. With each of you now facing each other, you grinned up at the robot with a giggle before speaking again. 

“Are we just going to stand here holding…hands?” you blinked with a bit of a laugh, Hux merely snapping his head back in your direction. “Or…should we go out for a walk?”

“Strolling not necessary.”

Okay…guess standing in place was what it would be until he tired of it. Which, as much as he claimed to find your affections annoying, you learned would take a good minute to happen. It was just another one of his many ways of keeping you all to himself. 

You couldn’t help but laugh and shrug the strange positioning off, not like you hadn’t dealt with stranger things throughout this relationship. 

Hm. Maybe you could take things to the next step and try to hug him.

[maccaronimassacre]

I thought about Dead by Daylight and how most Resident Evil characters are in it (all the popular ones). If Ethan was in Dead by Daylight (as far as I'm aware of, he's not in the game), what moves would he have? Would you be willing to make a bot where Ethan is in Dead by Daylight?

I'm still surprised they haven't done an RE:7 or 8 collab with DBD, not just because of Ethan and maybe even a survivor costume for Mia, but Jack Baker and Lady Dimitrescu as killers seems insanely marketable.

In terms of perks, I think Ethan would have more of a focus on his healing factor and survivability but not for himself but for other survivors. Unlike most horror protagonists, Ethan in both 7 and 8 doesn't look to escape, but looks to rescue and save the people around him, willing to sacrifice himself in the process to save Mia and Rose. He even goes out of his way to save others to along the way like Zoe and Elena. I think one could be that if the killer hits a survivor within a certain radius of Ethan, he takes the hit instead. 2 - when unhooking a survivor, there's a chance that that survivor will instantly be back at full health, or the same for Ethan if Ethan unhooks himself (could be a little nod to the chamber scene in Castle Dimitrescu). For his last perk it could have something to do with his block ability (keeping in mind that block/guard is a unique mechanic to Ethan in the RE universe) and could work like Dead Hard. Anyway, enough rambling, let me know what you think!

Ethan Winters x Reader

Ethan couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the shift happened. One moment, he was running through the grand, opulent halls of Castle Dimitrescu, the next, he found himself in crumbling corridors littered with broken glass and plaster. The icy chill of carved stone and gilded doors he had grown somewhat accustomed to had given way to rusted scrap heaps and junkyards. Even the campfire flames before him offered little warmth against the oppressive fog that clung to everything, whisking him from one twisted nightmare to the next. He let out a bitter laugh, tugging his jacket tighter around his body. His eyes drifted from the dim embers of the fire to the thick, rolling fog that crept along the ground, weaving through the trees like it was alive. “This is just my luck. Of course this has to happen to me.” As he watched, the mist parted for a moment, the swirling tendrils peeling away to reveal something, or rather, someone. Someone Ethan hadn’t seen before in this strange, nightmarish realm.

[theancienthybrid]

Dbd killer Oc Power discription, I've rewriten this shit so many times If i find a spelling mistake I'm killing myself, Pekrs will come whenever the fuck I feel like it

[hexbimbo]

DBD Autism HC |

🔥 Survivors |

Claudette Morel

Pretty much canon

Automatically assumes that people who don’t talk to her don’t like her

Info dumps about plants

Smiles awkwardly at jokes. She really does think it’s funny! She just doesn’t have the emotional range to give a proper, hearty laugh.

Clothes with sequins are a no-no.

For a long time, Baby Claudette refused to wear jeans. They’re too itchy and tight mom!

Has a difficult time keeping a hygiene routine. Doesn’t want to smell like basement goblin though. The shower is very overwhelming ( too wet, too hot in the bath, too cold when she’s done. ESPECIALLY hates putting on a robe if she’s still really wet.)

Snaps her fingers a lot when she has overwhelmed.

I don’t really picture her as having “food rules” or eating the same thing everyday. Has a problem with textures, especially early in the morning because she’s groggy.

Renato Lyra

Also pretty much canon.

May not follow the social rules but is die hard with physical, literal rules.

“C’mon Renato! It looks fun over there!”

“ But the sign says ‘do not enter’ 🧍🏽‍♂️”

The thought of committing himself to a full time- romantic relationship is very stressful to him. He enjoys his down time and wouldn’t be able to handle his partner stressing him out. (Being late, having to explain his stims and comfort objects etc)

Has a hard time eating veggies and is pretty much contispated 24-7. The textures and fluctuating taste. Wasn’t aware shitting pebbles wasn’t normal until it was brought up in conversation.

“Huh? Whaddya mean popping isnt supposed to hurt???”

Hates sweaty feet but his sandals chafe all. the. time. Plus, he hates when the sand gets in-between the shoe and his foot. If he wanted to feel the sand he would’ve gone barefoot dammit!

🔪 🩸 Killers |

Albert Wesker

I don’t think he knows

“Of course I eat the same thing everyday, Chris. It’s called discipline.”

Walked on his toes as a kid.

Gets very frustrated when his schedule gets interrupted or slightly changed. If given enough time to adjust, about a week, he’ll be okay for it.

Kinda weird but he treats Neurotypical’s like how they would Neurodivergent’s.

I don’t really head-canon his lack of empathy as an exclusively Autistic trait. I do think it goes hand in hand with his narcissism though.

When he’s not doing ✨ Science ✨ or 👹 Global Saturation👹 he lays in a dark room to destim. Maybe reads or blanks out for a bit.

Most lights are too bright for him.

When sitting or leaning on something while having a discussion/watchings something, pulls the corner of eye back. (Press it gently and gently slide the finger back.) Most people think he’s expressing boredom but he’s really not. It’s just how he stims.

Hates fidget toys. They just don’t work for him. Hates that the bubble fidget doesn’t actually pop and that the dice fidget doesn’t do anything after pressing all the buttons.

Adris

Likes running her fingers along the chain of her censer.

Eating the same food everyday like a good priest 😇

Starved for information regarding her god. Reads every book, paper, scroll she can get.

Very disciplined with her schedule. Wakes up, worships, eats, and tends to the grounds at the same time every day. Doesn’t get anxious if the Entity calls her away for a trail.

The rust of the hooks is a no-no.

Destims in her prayer room. The lighting is perfect, smells are minimal, and it’s very cozy.

Washing her bedding or clothing is tough for her. Clean, crisp bedding doesn’t feel the greatest.

Pushes through the more pungent fragrances she uses in her meditations. As a child, she’d frequently have meltdowns over mirth. She could even smell it in her quarters!

Sometimes has intrusive thoughts of removing her toes and fingers, or extra skin general. Not in a mentally ill or psychotic way, but because sometimes her fingers/toes feel “lose.”

[apollodarling-writes]

yan! dbd ghostface (danny johnson) headcanons

cws: yandere themes, danny is a perv, non-consensual picture taking, stalking obv, slight nsfw themes but danny is just a freak, danny is a sadist, gore, danny makes out with your wounds, obsessive! danny, possessive! danny,

— yan! ghostface whose eye you catch in your first trial. you who are wide eyed, disoriented, and hyper-aware of your surroundings make easy prey.

— yan! ghostface who stalks you for awhile before approaching you, using your disbelief and naivety against you.

— yan! ghostface who explains your situation, portraying himself as a fellow survivor and guides you through the motions of the match before pressing his blade to your throat.

— yan! ghostface who smirks beneath his mask, watching as your eyes widen with fear and betrayal. he feels himself become aroused as your pretty optics glisten with tears, groaning as you beg for him to let you go.

— yan! ghostface who is stunned by a flashlight, feeling you wriggle free from his grip and sprint off like a frightened bunny.

— yan! ghostface who you are wary of in each match. he singles you out and taunts you, describing each horrific thing he’ll do to you once he gets his hands on you, finding that this little obsession of his is growing by the day.

— yan! ghostface who begins thinking about you even outside of trials. it started as wondering what he would do to you next, turning into lustful daydreams and palming himself at the thought of you.

— yan! ghostface who snaps polaroids of you while you do mundane things. assembling a medkit or toolbox, finding materials for offerings, talking to your fellow survivors…

— yan! ghostface who loathes the sight of you smiling at the others in the survivor camp. you belong to him. that smile of yours is reserved for him. your laugh is reserved for him.

— yan! ghostface who slowly feels those lustful feelings of his grow into something deeper. he finds himself thinking less and less about ways to kill you, and more about ways he could make you smile.

— yan! ghostface who, in your next trial with him, brings you the body of each survivor, dropping it in front of you much like a cat would gift its owner a dead mouse.

— yan! ghostface who corners you, sitting on your stomach and wrapping his fingers around your throat. he swiftly snaps a polaroid of this beautiful sight, crazed ramblings about how you’ve caught his attention leaving his lips.

— yan! ghostface who is amused at how quickly you’ve gained his interest, his favorite pastimes stalking you and leaving just enough of a trace for you to know he was there.

— yan! ghostface who finds it incredibly romantic to hold your hand while you bleed out beneath him, his mask lifted to show off the frenzied look in his eyes, blood dripping from his chin and onto your paling features.

— yan! ghostface who looooves to makeout with your stab wounds. he’s always sure to leave you for last, finding motivation in the fact that if he rids the trial of all other survivors, he can spend as much time with you as he pleases.

— yan! ghostface who coos at you as you beg for him to let you go… or to just end it already. a frown tugging at his lips as he feels his heart pang with the slightest of remorse. he quickly covers it up with a mocking sneer, telling you that you should be proud to bear his love in such a way. no one’s ever had it but you.

— yan! ghostface who singles out each person you talk to in their next trial with him, mercilessly slaughtering them as he tells them to stay the fuck away from you.

— yan! ghostface who somehow convinces the entity to let you spend some time with him on a random day, designating it as your new birthday. he’ll watch with interest as your shaky fingers grip the rusted fork, shoving the mediocre cake down your throat. he’s never seen a better sight.

— yan! ghostface who loooves everything about you <33

[cantivt]

Stream over!

"Done" with Rusted Moss! Got 3 of the 4 endings. To get the fourth one I'll need to startover and skip a bunch of things. Played DBD afterwards. Sent the raid to @/ComradeBeric

twitch.tv/comradeberic