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floristjimin · 1 month

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charles and edwin's enneagram types

ok so I’ve been seeing a lot of really good analysis on charles and edwin’s internal motivations and how they tend to react to difficult situations. I’ve also had a deep interest in the enneagram for several years, and I just started reading a book about it, and my brain immediately connected it to DBD. so here are my thoughts on what charles and edwin’s enneagram types might be, how this influences many different aspects of their personalities, how their types complement each other really well, and how they’ve supported each other to be the best versions of their true selves.

What is the Enneagram?

More than just a personality type, the nine types of the Enneagram describe the “basic archetypes of humanity’s tragic flaws, primary fears, and unconscious needs.” Most Enneagram authors agree that we are born with a dominant type, and that this type “determines the ways we learn to adapt to our early childhood environment.”

The types are not static — there are different “levels of development” that describe how each type behaves when they are psychologically healthy or unhealthy. There is also something called the direction of integration/disintegration — each type behaves like another type when they are under stress or in growth (e.g. type Nines behave like Sixes when they are stressed, and Threes when they are in growth). So two people with the same type may not behave the same way as each other, and a person throughout their own life may grow and change, but they will still align with that dominant type.

All this to say, the Enneagram is a really useful tool for self-understanding and for having empathy for yourself and others, because it gives a lot of insight into a person’s core fears and underlying motivations.

charles - type nine

A big part of Charles’s character arc in season one was the repression and denial of his own anger. This was the biggest clue for me that he might be a type Nine.

There are so many examples of this, especially in episode 4:

the scene with Charles and Crystal on the lighthouse where they talk about the events of the devlin house (Crystal: Charles, could we just for one second talk about what happened? Charles: Crystal, I don’t have anything else to say. yes, that guy was horrible. yes, my dad was horrible. yes, I got angry. now I’m fine. Crystal: you don’t have to keep things bottled up)

the scene (1) when Charles is upset that Edwin hid the fact that he saw the cat king again, Edwin directly asks “why are you getting so angry?” and Charles immediately falls quiet

the scene where Charles attacks night nurse — he can no longer hold back his anger, and his friends are shocked (2). It is unusual for him to express his anger like this.

Ok, so why do Nines tend to be out of touch with their anger? Type Nines are “the peacemaker”, described as easygoing, reassuring, and agreeable. The basic fear of the type Nine is of loss and separation (3), and their basic desire is to have inner stability, peace of mind. “They want everything to go smoothly and be without conflict, but they can also tend to be complacent, simplifying problems and minimizing anything upsetting.” Nines want to avoid conflict; they have seen from past experiences that anger can be a huge source of conflict, so they learn to repress their anger.

This could also be part of the reason why Charles decides to stay (4) with Edwin when they first meet. Going with Death would mean having to fully accept the fact that he is dead, and that’s upsetting to him. Nines are also known as “chameleons” and tend to mirror/blend with those they are around (a way of avoiding conflict) — “being a separate self, an individual who must assert themselves against others, is terrifying to Nines. They would rather melt into someone else or quietly follow their idyllic daydreams.” So it makes sense that staying with Edwin feels like the safest option to Charles.

Some other scenes that make more sense through the lens of Charles being a type Nine:

Any time Edwin tries to initiate a serious conversation, Charles’s immediate reaction is to downplay things, and give a lighthearted response in an attempt to minimize tension (ep 6 (5), ep 7 (6)). There’s also that flicker of emotion on his face before he promptly represses it and tries to present a more reassuring reaction (ep 6 (7))

“Every (8) day, I’m fuckin’ smiling. ‘Cause who else is gonna be the one holding it together and keeping spirits up? … What good am I even doing? I couldn’t stop Devlin from murdering his family over and over, I can’t stop Crystal from hurting, I can’t stop whatever it is that’s going on with you, I can’t stop anything! I sure as hell couldn’t stop my dad from beating the shit out of me. No matter how good I was.” — This directly points to his desire to create harmony in his environment (and taking on way too much personal responsibility (9) for it)

The scene in ep 5 where Charles admits he is afraid (10) that he’s like his dad, and Edwin’s response (11) — this is a really important moment where Charles finally allows himself to acknowledge his feelings, and Edwin learns to respond with patience and mirrors the reassurance that Charles himself so freely gives.

edwin - type one

One of the things we learn about Edwin in the very first episode of season one is that he deeply cares about solving cases and helping others.

“Our (12) deaths didn’t matter. No one ever solved them. Now you are sharp and fun, but this is not a game. We are solving cases that would never be solved. Police don’t know what to do with a fucking witch! We didn’t matter. He and I. So these cases matter. They have to matter!”

Type One is “The Reformer”; they are described as principled, purposeful, and self-controlled. The basic fear of the type One is that they are corrupt, evil, and defective (which makes it even more devastating that he spent 70 years in hell), and their basic desire is to be good, have integrity, and be balanced.

This description above reminds me a LOT of the conversation he has with the cat king in episode 4:

Cat King: Why do these cases of complete strangers matter to you so much? Edwin: Not that you would understand, but I help ghosts whose cases would go unsolved. I right wrongs. [after Cat King forces him to tell the “truth”] Edwin: I’m also doing as much good as I can, so that eventually if I have to go back to hell, I can make my case for leniency … I’m ashamed. It’s selfish.”

A lot of Edwin’s repression definitely has to do with the time period he’s from, but I think it also points to that type One desire to be “good”.

Does this not perfectly describe Edwin’s entire journey (13) of self-discovery in season one? See also, his remarks about emotions (14) and human connection (15).

Lastly, I’ll link to this post (16), as well as the fact that it took me a lot of thinking to figure out that Edwin was a One — he does not fit the usual stereotype of a One. He’s not overly perfectionistic or highly critical, he’s not afraid of making mistakes. Instead, we see a One at a healthy level — principled, a person of integrity, who is able to see that imperfections are part of perfection, who is able to work on undoing those patterns of repression. Additionally, type Ones tend to look like Sevens when they are in a direction of growth — Sevens are described as spontaneous and playful, constantly seeking new and exciting experiences. We definitely start to see this side of Edwin, and I think part of why he is able to grow in this direction is because his friendship with Charles has given him an environment where he feels safe and comfortable.

charles & edwin - the relationship between Ones and Nines

Even more interesting, there is a section on the Enneagram site that discusses relationship dynamics between different Enneagram types. This part highlights how the One and the Nine have different ways of reacting to stress and how they express (or don't express) anger:

For Edwin, this perfectly captures his prickliness and snippiness in the first few episodes towards Crystal.

And for Charles, this lines up with his emotions (17)/reactions starting from episode 3 in the devlin house and how he tries to ignore his emotions and repress his anger

Lastly, on a more positive note, this part really describes their partnership and synergy perfectly:

I also think this ties in to Charles’s direction of growth — as a type Nine, Charles would look like a type Three in his direction of growth. Threes are described as adaptable, driven, and energetic (as well as attractive and charming). I think he exhibits all of these traits -- being friends with Edwin for the past 30 years has definitely supported Charles in this direction of growth.

Overall, I think all of this really speaks to how realistic and complex these characters are. If you read this whole thing, THANK YOU. I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this, if you agree with these types, if you have any more examples you can think of in the show, if you think they fit better with a different type, etc.!! And if you’re interested in learning more about the Enneagram I’ll leave some sources below.

The Enneagram Institute website

The Sacred Enneagram by Christopher L. Heuertz

Sleeping at Last podcast feat. Chris Heuertz, about type One and Nine

One by Sleeping at Last

Nine by Sleeping at Last

references: 1 - @that-ineffable-devil 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 15 - @mellxncollie 3, 7 - @homoquartz 4, 13 - @nikossasaki 9 - @asidian 16 - @abeautifulblog 17 - @melefim

#dead boy detectives #charles rowland #edwin payne #dbd meta #payneland #dbda #edwin x charles #dead boy detective agency #long post #anyways i haven't even finished reading the book yet so I'm very likely going to find something else that I'll need to add to this #but i need to post this now so i'm not the only one going INSANE over this

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

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may i request a yandere concept for leon kennedy but in dbd?

Honestly he probably isn't much different but sure!

Yandere! DBD! Leon Kennedy Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Dubious companionship, Paranoia, Manipulation, Implied stalking, Guilt tripping, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Brief violence mention.

The canon Leon that's sent to the Entity's Realm in DBD is RE2! Leon.

Which means the Leon darling will encounter in their trials would be the much more naive rookie cop Leon.

Think about it, the poor man's all confused.

First he was running from the undead and Mr. X, now he's in a world of fog and darkness with all sorts of threats.

He's nearly defenseless, too.

For the most part Leon is his typical RE2 yandere behavior.

He's an overprotective, clingy, puppy-like yandere towards his darling.

Despite being stripped of his defenses he still feels like he has a duty to defend those he cares about.

Leon could've been dragged into the realm with a darling he already knew or meet his darling later on in the realm.

Either way he never leaves them out of his sight for long.

The moment Leon connects with you as a teammate over that campfire, you probably aren't getting rid of him.

Which starts as a good thing.

Having an ally in this realm is a good thing to have, it creates a certain synergy during trials that makes your fears quiet down.

Leon is a pleasant guy to be around.

He's nervous but he makes an effort to be light-hearted around you while also taking in what's going on.

He quickly adapts to fixing generators in different locations, often helping you out with them too.

He expertly utilizes his flashbang perk to save his teammates and is overall a good teammate to have.

Even more so, Leon is a good friend.

His presence is good to be around and he quickly takes a liking to you when you meet.

Leon is a survivor who can quickly adapt despite how nervous and naive he acts at first.

He's Protective, Manipulative, Clingy, Obsessive, and is still kinda Flirty like his RE4 version but he is more Shy as his RE2 version.

Survivors are limited on how they can defend themselves in the Entity's Realm but Leon would still manage to be protective.

Leon would follow his darling around in trials.

Usually it's good to stay separate in the start to get more generators down, but Leon prefers to follow you like a partner.

Even if you gave Leon an order he prefers to stick around and slowly follow you.

As I said before, Leon is very puppy-like with his obsession in RE2.

He's never far from you and us protective of you like some sort of guard dog.

Killers can barely get their claws on you without Leon chasing after them to divert their attention.

If you ever tried to scold Leon on his behavior, then he guilt trips you.

RE2 is more likely to guilt trip you than his other counterparts, especially in this situation.

If you don't want him helping you... then what if you get hurt?

He'd be devastated if you failed a trial because of him.

Why don't you want him around?

Do you not like him?

Are you no longer close?

Leon just manages to make you regret turning him down which makes it hard for you to say no.

Leon just seems to know how to make you listen to him by pulling at your emotions.

He gets smug about it in private.

Leon is less confident about flirting if he does it to you in the realm, but he tries.

Leon just wants to keep your spirit up and make you happy despite being trapped in the realm.

He always looks out for you even if you hate it.

The issue is Leon doesn't give you a chance to be alone or even allows you to have other company.

You could try to tell him another survivor will look after you in a trial or you're fine alone... but Leon doesn't like that.

If it isn't him looking after you he just loses it.

I don't think RE2 Leon is that violent but he would get into arguments with other survivors.

It's hard to say if Leon is scared of being left alone or is scared of you being alone.

He isn't very clear with that as he acts so upset either way.

Other survivors wonder what's gotten into Leon when he suddenly snaps and yells at them if they are near you or mention you.

Leon is a very obsessive and clingy yandere even in the realm of the Entity.

Although, if we go with the theory that the Entity could influence yandere behavior then he may just be worse.

Maybe if his obsession continues... he will use violence.

Survivors can't truly stay dead in this realm, but Leon's new violent tendencies caused by the Entity would isolate both you and him.

Which may be what Leon wants in the end.

No one wants to be subjected to his bloody violence, be it simply a fist fight or something worse.

As a result... survivors don't help you when Leon gets too clingy.

Leon's your problem when he gets violent due to the realm...

You're stuck with him forever as the Entity sits back and watches your suffering.

#yandere dead by daylight #yandere dbd #yandere leon kennedy #yandere leon s kennedy #yandere resident evil

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ad-astra-per-aspera-1389 · 22 days

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Okay, so I don't usually post my fics directly on tumblr (usually just on ao3 with a link on here) but ao3 is down atm and I finished the dbd x mphfpc fic!

Tagging @fellow-fandom-fruitifier bc he asked :)

Um...I'll add what would be tags here:

Fandoms: Dead Boy Detectives (TV), Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (Books)

Not really any necessary content warnings. Just a nice little case without anything dangerous, for once.

Word Count: 2069

The Case of the Lost Boys

Summary: The Dead Boy Detectives find themselves on the island of Cairnholm, investigating the whereabouts of a wandering ghost and his unfinished business.

While London alone was teeming with ghosts with issues to solve, occasionally ghosts brought cases from farther away. Typically, these cases were much simpler than what would, 25 years later, lead them to Port Townsend.

One of these cases, back in 1998, was The Case of the Lost Boys.

The ghost of a young woman arrived in their office one afternoon. While the case didn’t necessarily concern her directly, she had spent a lot of time with the affected ghost. A young boy, around Charles and Edwin’s age, had been wandering the island of Cairnholm for decades, the woman said. He was looking for something—someone—that just wasn’t there. The woman paid them sufficiently, and Charles and Edwin agreed to take the case.

Mirror hopping led the two detectives through the mirror inside a bathroom, which was attached to a motel room, which was above a tavern. The sheer amount of noise coming from below caused Edwin to simply walk through the wall to get outside, instead of going down the stairs and through the tavern on the ground floor. It was one of several things that freaked Charles out every time Edwin did it. To his credit, however, Edwin was trying to do it less when Charles reminded him of it. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t still forget from time to time.

Edwin walked through a second floor wall and landed on his feet on the ground outside. A few minutes later, Charles was next to him, having taken the long way around. “Mate, you can’t keep doing that! I know you’re fine, but I still forget we’re dead sometimes.”

“Right, my apologies. I’ll use the door next time. I simply didn’t care to walk through such a loud establishment.”

“Next time, we’ll take the stairs and walk through a wall on the first floor, yeah?”

“Agreed. Now, let us track down this wayward ghost, shall we?”

After a bit of walking, the two detectives found the place their client had mentioned the boy to frequent. They had to wait a while, but, sure enough, the boy wandered through the bog and up near the old, previously bombed out house on the far side of the island. Once they were sure he’d stay there for a while, Charles and Edwin followed him up, Charles holding his cricket bat out in front of him.

“Excuse me,” called Edwin, “but we were called because we were told you might need help.”

The boy turned around. He’d been tearing through pieces of the house, searching. “My sister. She was here.”

“When it was bombed during the war?” asked Charles. He hadn’t quite gotten around to explaining the second world war to Edwin, but Charles knew London and other parts of the region had taken a lot of damage. He’d paid some attention during his history classes.

“Yes, but it always reset before anyone got hurt.”

“What do you mean, reset?”

“The bird reset it to the night before the house was destroyed. We would watch the show each night before bed. Then I went out one night, and I died. I can’t get back in. I haven’t seen her in years!” The boy punched a wall, causing chunks of it to fall out. Charles pulled Edwin backwards, out of the house entirely.

“I think he’s lost his mind,” said Charles, once he and Edwin were alone again. The two of them were poring over Edwin’s notes.

“It seems he’s lost his sister, and, though the house was bombed with her in it, he believes she’s alive.”

“He mentioned it all being reset. Sounds like a time loop, doesn’t it?”

“That it does, Charles, but we cannot see it, and therefore we cannot break it.”

“Is that even the problem, though? If he just sees his sister, he’ll move on.”

“That would be quite easy, Charles, if only we knew where the sister was.”

They didn’t even know the ghost’s name, and now they needed to find his sister, too? This wasn’t as easy as they thought it would be.

Charles and Edwin returned to the island the next day, after spending the night in the office reading up on time loops and delirium in ghosts. This time, they used the stairs to exit the tavern, and by the time they reached the old house it was midday. Despite the sun being high in the sky they still couldn’t see very well in the old charred house. Charles pulled two flashlights from his backpack and the search continued.

Eventually, Charles found a hole in the floor. “Edwin, come look at this!”

The boy in question followed Charles’s voice until they were both looking down into the hole. Edwin went down into the hole while Charles stood lookout, just in case the ghost boy made another appearance.

Inside the hole in the ground, Edwin found a trunk of old photos, featuring children doing largely impossible or supernaturally odd things. As he sifted through them, a second light appeared above his head. It was a soft glow, like a fireplace, and Edwin looked up right as Charles called, “Edwin?”

A girl stood next to Charles, holding a ball of flames above the hole to see into it better. Edwin heard her voice echo as she asked Charles, “What are you doing here? Who are you?”

“Stay back,” warned Charles, pointing his cricket bat at her.

“What. Are you doing. In our house?” asked the girl, punctuating each set of words with a few steps forward. Behind her, Charles soon noticed, were a smaller girl, likely about seven years old, and a boy the older girl’s age that gave off a faint buzzing sound if it was quiet.

“We were just leaving, actually.” Charles took a step back.

“Good,” said the girl.

“Emma,” said the younger girl, “we should go before we’re late for lunch.”

Emma grimaced, turning around towards the two that were with her. “I suppose so. The bird will be angry if we’re late.” She cast one last warning glare over her shoulder at Charles, and then the three of them were gone.

Edwin climbed back out of the hole, with help from a rope Charles had in his backpack, and reported his findings to Charles. “It appears to be a group of syndrigasti: a variant of human with an extra soul. These extra souls give them special abilities, such as the boy’s ability to do so much damage around this place, and the girl’s fire.”

“So, his sister must be one too?”

“Not necessarily. It’s a relatively rare condition, however, it is especially likely in this case. If he cannot find her, and neither can we, she’s likely in a time loop for the living. Only syndrigasti can enter, and we are not that.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad then, does it? He can go in himself and find her.”

“Not if he died in a certain way. If the creature that killed him consumed his extra soul, then he can no longer enter the time loop, as he said before. We will need to get the sister to leave the loop temporarily.”

“How do we do that?”

“I do not know. I suppose if we can find another occupant of the time loop, we may be able to get a message across. For that, however, we’ll need more information from the boy.”

“What about that girl, Emma? She had abilities, didn’t she?”

“We don’t know for sure that she lives there, though it is likely. Unfortunately, they’ve gone, and we still do not know how to enter the time loop.”

Later in the day, the detectives found the boy in the same place as the day before. Charles stood by with his bat while Edwin questioned the wayward ghost. They learned that the boy’s name was Victor, his sister’s name was Bronwyn, and that he had, in fact, died in the way Edwin had suspected.

The one good thing about all this was that he remembered how to enter the time loop. Charles suggested writing on the cave’s wall and hoping they’d see it when one of them left again. Edwin, however, thought it might frighten the children if they saw a note reading “Bronwyn, your brother is looking for you”, considering Victor had been dead for decades.

Instead, Edwin wrote out a neat note and attached it to the wall of the cave:

Bronwyn Bruntley,

I am from the Dead Boy Detective Agency. We were called in about your brother. His ghost is still on the island in the present day. Until he has closure, he will not move on to his afterlife. Victor’s unfinished business is seeing his sister again. Once you receive this, it would help both of us if you could leave the time loop temporarily to reunite with your brother.

Sincerely,

Edwin Payne

Edwin and Charles stayed on the island late into the evening, watching the mouth of the cave for someone to take Edwin’s note. Eventually, the note seemingly disappeared on its own. It moved like it was being removed from the wall by a hand, but there was no hand. It floated through the cave and disappeared through the other end.

Less than an hour later, two girls and a floating hat emerged from the mouth of the cave, each of them able to see Edwin and Charles (or so they assumed). One of the girls, the one that wore trousers and a shirt, asked, “Are you Edwin Payne?” She held the note in her hands.

“I am Edwin Payne. You must be Bronwyn.”

“I am. You found my brother?”

“We did.”

Victor, who had been all but dragged over near the bog by Charles earlier, stepped closer to the girls.

“Wyn?”

“Victor!”

The two siblings embraced so tightly that anyone else might have bruised a rib from it. Edwin and Charles gave them a bit of space for their little reunion, until, eventually, Edwin had to burst their bubble.

“I do not mean to bring down the room, but since your unfinished business has now been finished, Death will be coming to collect you shortly. Therefore, Charles and I must be going, now.” Edwin turned on his heel and began to walk away, Charles shortly behind him.

Then, the other girl, Emma, called out, “Wait!” and Edwin stopped. He turned back around to look at her.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know if you work with the living at all, but I’ve been looking for a certain boy since the last war. If I give you a name, can you send the results to our post box in town?”

Edwin’s expression softened slightly, and he pulled out his notebook and pen. “Of course. What is the name?”

“Abraham Portman.”

This second, smaller case did not require that the Dead Boy Detectives remain on Cairnholm. The two of them did, however, have to use their disguises that would allow them to appear living. They searched computers and phone directories until they found the man Emma had been looking for.

The two ghosts finally found Abraham’s house in Florida, in the United States. Mirror hopping there was easy. The difficult part was deciding how to explain it to Emma. Abraham was married by then. He had a wife, two children, and his son even had a son of his own. So much time had passed since Emma was this young. Edwin understood far better than he’d have liked to.

Edwin ultimately wrote Emma, sending the letter to the postbox she gave the address to. Charles looked it over for sensitivity purposes, and then off it went. A week later, Edwin received a letter in return, thanking both he and Charles for putting in the effort to help her, even though she didn’t get the answer she wanted. Attached were a few paper bills as payment.

Although Edwin continued to be baffled as to how she was returning his letters, he continued sending them. As it turned out, despite having so many other children living with you, the novelty of a ‘pen pal’, as she called it, was slow to wear off.

Letters were sent back and forth between Cairnholm and London regularly for a solid twelve years, and then, suddenly, they stopped. Edwin, unsurprisingly, began to worry. That is, until he received a letter from Florida, instead of Cairnholm.

Emma, it seemed, was doing just fine.

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rabbitblackx · 2 years

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hello, i hope you're doing fine!^^

..if not I'm sorry to hear that :(.

would you mind Trickster, Huntress, Spirit, Artist reaction to killer! ans survivior!s/o or bestfriend with abandonment issues?

please ignore the gramma

Hey I’m doing good thanks! Hope ur going great too! :) I was a bit unsure with whether u wanted killer or survivor reader, but went ahead with a killer s/o anyway. Hope u don’t mind and enjoy!💞

DBD killers with a Killer!Reader that has abandonment issues

Includes: Huntress, Spirit, Trickster and Artist

Huntress

The Huntress used your issues to her advantage. You didn’t like being abandoned? Perfect! All she wanted was for you to be by her side. When neither of you were on trial, the Huntress kept you safe within her realm. Since you had none of your own, hers was where you lived

Anna could relate to your abandonment issues. She grew up without a father, and her mother soon too tragically ‘left’ her. She felt an extra connection with you because of this. She saw you as her soulmate. You were two killers wandering the fog, destined to be together forever

The Huntress made effort to let you know that you had nothing to worry about. She would never leave you. To comfort you, she laid your head over her lap while caressing your hair, humming an old Russian lullaby

Anna would not abandon you

Spirit

The Spirit despised most people nowadays. All except you. Because of this, she let you near no one but her. Feared being abandoned? Not to worry. She just made it that there was no one to abandon you in the first place

The Spirit was very possessive of you. If you were to be chatting or spending time with another killer, she would make up some excuse to steal you away. She was extra cuddly and caring, giving you gentle kisses while whispering sweet nothings. You melted into her touch and nestled into the crook of her neck with a smile

The Spirit told you time and time again how much you meant to her. She promised you she would never, ever leave you

And the Spirit always kept her promises

Trickster

The Trickster could be mean. He secretly thought it was embarrassing for a killer like yourself to fear abandonment, but also not surprising. Like, of course you couldn’t bare to live without him. But after awhile, he began to feel sympathy for once in his life

Maybe a ‘week’ after you told him about your abandonment issues, he started to overly kiss and cuddle you. He also complimented and called you pet names even more than he usually did

“Hey, babe! You’re looking beautiful tonight.”

The Trickster could also be a bit of a perv. To cheer you up from your issues, he made sweet, sweet love to you. Ji-Woon was so passionate when it came to you. You truly were his number one obsession

At the end of the day though, the Trickster didn’t look into your abandonment issues too much. He went on to treat you like he always did. Flirty, pervy and straight up eccentric with his love for you

Artist

The Artist wished she could tell you how much you meant to her. It broke her heart to know that you had these abandonment issues. If she still had her tongue, she would go on and on about how she would never abandon you

The Artist could hold you in her inky arms forever. She never tired of having you close. Carmina showed her love through actions, as of course, she couldn’t speak many words. She still smiled at you, an adorable smile that told you everything was going to be okay. She ran her black fingers through your hair while her face was nuzzled in your neck

The more Carmina spent these tender moments with you, the more she realised that she might’ve had abandonment issues too. Because if you were to ever leave her, she didn’t think she would be able to cope. She simply craved you, and your closeness

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lukabitch · 2 years

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Sorry if the requests are closed I couldn't find a post detailing it

Anyway can I request trans masc reader who's too nice for they're own good and tries to talk sense into the killers

Preferably Wraith, Hillbilly and Bubba but I'm fine with Ghostface or anyone besides frank and freddy

Request are almost always open. The reader sounds like the most innocent thing in the realm. Thank you so much for the request! :)

Killers: Wraith, Hillbilly, and Bubba the baby boy.

Tw: typical dbd violence, mentions of cannibalism, parental abuse mentioned(Hillbilly and Bubba), transphobia.

Wraith:

Oh okay.

He’s a bit confused but it doesn’t bother him as much.

He’ll just continue with the trial as usual but would give you the hatch.

Finds it cute when you try to talk him out of it every trial.

Usually ends up saying your too pure of heart.

Has told you on multiple occasions that he would stop if he could. It’s just a ghost haunting him.

Every damn time you would pull him into a hug telling him it doesn’t have to be like that.

He almost cries when you do this. Your just too sweet.

He would become more defiant to the Entity.

Practically protects you with his life. He won’t let anything happen to his sweet boy.

If someone was being transphobic towards you they will be missing a spine.

He has and will always be there for you. You mean too much to him to let you be upset.

He loves you with all his heart. You showed a side to him he thought was lost long ago.

Hillbilly:

Someone actually showing genuine concern for him? He’s never had that happen before.

Seriously he literally melts from just you showing concern and trying to get him to change.

He’ll just let you ramble to him about how he could be a good person.

He always pats you on the head and walks off.

Even if he wanted to turn a new leaf he couldn’t exactly communicate that to you. He doesn’t know exactly how to speak because of the neglect and abuse of his parents.

He can only really make noises that sound like words. Lucky for him you were quick to notice what he was trying to say.

With how nice and innocent you are it repulses him to have to hurt you. He honestly doesn’t want to so he saves you for last to make it less painful.

He lets you go when he can.

Every time he does let you he sees you smile and lets you ramble about how you could let all of them go next time.

He never does let all of you go. He can’t take the beating the entity would give him.

If someone is being transphobic they will be horrifically dismembered.

One time you were trying to talk sense into him and a survivor yelled slurs at you from afar.

Yeah they didn’t last long he will protect with all his heart. It’s his only way to show that he cares without being sucked into the void.

Bubba:

He’s incredibly confused.

Remember he was raised into believing that it was normal to eat people.

After awhile of you trying to talk him out of it he gets a bit weary. He truly takes your words to heart.

Remember how he treats Stretch in tcm2? He treats you very similar.

He’s kind to you and tries to keep you being alive low key. It doesn’t work at all but come on he’s trying! :(

He gives you a hug every time you try to talk him out of it.

He can’t communicate properly at all. He can only make a mess of noises and squeals.

He considers the two of you close and bring you gifts! Isn’t that lovely?

The gift was makeup, it makes him happy why wouldn’t you make happy?

You tried to explain to him. He does kind of understand what your saying just very loosely.

He just saw you become really uncomfortable when someone was calling you a girl.

It’s chainsaw time baby! He swung it like his life depends on it.

At the end of the day he wants to change for you because he cares about you. He just can’t change due to circumstances.

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harpygon · 5 months

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dbd oc? dbd oc… dbd oc:

This is Margaret. I made her up bc no matter how much I like the little file card door thing, over time that must be overflowing and someone needs to bring order/organise another way of storing files. Also someone to take numbers and rough descriptions of cases while the main part of the agency is out and about is helpful.

Anyway, Margaret was child to a lower upper class family. She always really looked up to her father and wanted to work in the same firm as him. She took a typewriting class in school so that she could be a secretary between finishing school and marrying, but her father thought it would reflect badly on the family if their daughter „had to work“ and so he forbade her from doing so. She also loves rollerskating and is rather fashionable (possible bc she was quite rich). She died when she was 17 in 1968. (atm I think her undone business is wanting to live out her dream? might change with time tho)

As to how she ends up at the agency…. she comes in with another ghost (to support them). The detectives are out, but the ghost with the case is also in real big trouble (not sure what trouble yet), so they decide to just wait there and the night nurse literally couldn‘t give a shit. Now this would be some way into the future when there‘s more stuff/file cards whatever- but Margaret just starts organising things out of boredom (they have to wait like literal days). The detectives come back. Edwin would be really upset about the change in their organisational system I believe. But he doesn‘t have time to do much about it, bc they have to solve the other Ghost‘s case and by the time they‘re back he‘s kinda fine? Charles or Crystal talked to him about it? Whatever they realise they‘ve been struggling with organisation and (after reprimanding her for literally going through all their files without permission) offer her a position :)

#don‘t ask me how she doesn‘t get brought to the afterlife. Maybe the night nurse isn‘t bothered about it anymore. Maybe an oficial position #in the agency saves her from being moved on. Maybe after some amount of time she does move on. :)#harpy‘s ocs #dead boy detectives #(I haven‘t yet seen anyone in the tag post about oc‘s so I am rather nervous rn.)#(but I‘ve had 2 mutuals indicate to me that they‘d like to see my oc‘s so… I‘ll be brave for them)

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envihellbender · 4 days

Note

Headcanons: DBD killers of your choice with an immobile S/O

For some reason even though I prefer submissive feeders, a lot of these were submissive feedees…

Content: extreme weight gain, dom/sub feedee/feeder (both variations), soft and hard feedism, some force, some gross references that aren’t gone into, 18+

The Trapper

Evan (Trapper) is a loving romantic feeder with Maxie (Hillbilly) feedee, not completely intentional but it becomes it over time.

Evan originally enjoys spending time with Maxie because his new friend has absolutely no idea who Evan is. Living in isolation no one had ever heard of the Miner (a title the Entity at least had the grace not to bestow upon Evan) or the MacMillan family. When he saw how much of a cruel childhood and life Maxie had had Evan found him feeling protective of the one person he could be his true, complete self around.

Evan realised quickly that Maxie hadn’t ever eaten much but gruel, rotten vegetables, and uncooked meat. That was how it started, Evan using the Entities realms to take Maxie to the nicest restaurants. Not particularly fancy places, just homely ones where they were the only customers and buffets materialised in front of them.

It didn’t take long for Maxie to discover he had a sweet tooth - cake and ice cream in particular, that he liked chicken fat better cooked, and that there were more fruits than rotting apples and blackberries.

Somewhere along the way it becomes less about Evan showing Maxie everything he’s missed and more about shoving cake into his mouth and watching his ever growing gut pour into his lap. It’s about rubbing Maxie’s stuffed gut and helping him to his feet. Evan expected to experience the Entity’s wrath when Maxie could no longer walk without aid… but quite the contrary. The Entity had a a soft spot for Maxie however, and decided that its realm had great use for an immobile blob, a sweet young man to feed full to the brim. There were so many different ways the creatures it tormented could be cooked after all.

The Cannibal

Bubba is a devoted, romantic feeder, but his victim is a very reluctant feedee.

Bubba loves to cook, and he always cooks far too much. Usually this means in his little cottage the Entity has made for him there’s hundreds of carefully sealed boxes and just as many jars filled with different dishes. Something about this realm means food doesn’t go bad here, only there however, if Bubba doesn’t harvest the food outside quick enough it rots far too quickly. As a result, any visitor he has ends up being given a delicious feast and leftovers to go home with.

So when you show up, despite how suspicious he is since he never saw strangers round these parts, he was delighted to have someone to break bread with. Or rather, someone to feed, and feed, and feed. At least he wanted to, but you looked so terrified of him. He supposed it was his appearance… but that was fine, you’d learn not to be afraid eventually. For now he’ll just have to tie you to the kitchen chair to make sure you don’t escape before you realise.

It doesn’t matter how much you refuse to eat, he shoves it all in your mouth anyway, and since you look so skinny he’s added some of his specially made appetite enhancers. As a result it’s not long before your aching, growling stomach is screaming for him to feed you. He doesn’t account for how much of an effect they have when you have gained such a large amount, when he doesn’t wake up in time for breakfast one day he comes in to see you’ve began eating the dining table. A cute glassy eyed expression on your face and splinters stuck in your huge plump lips.

By the time you’ve breached a thousand pounds your brain is essentially gone. Bubba has moved you to the bedroom, all comfortable and welcoming with no need for rope that bites into your ever growing joints (which are no longer visible under your shapeless mass.) You make noises like a hog instead of speaking, not that you have anything worth saying. All you want and need is food, a constant supply to keep you nice and full… Not that your ever full these days.

The Ghost Face

Jed would initiate a 24 hour sub/dom feedee/feeder relationship at the drop of a hat, in this case with the reader.

You recognise Jed Olsen instantly from the first day he enters your parents’ restaurant. You had woken up at 6:00am every morning to read his latest reports on the Roseville Murderers, and everything he’d ever written on historical true crime, your favourite being his analysis of the Miner. You felt like you got him more than anyone else did, and it was to your shame that the first time you saw him whilst you sat on a reinforced chair at the table opposite surrounded by your college work that your dad came over shouting ‘hey piggy’. A humiliating nickname referring to your five hundred pound body, and unfortunately that was what caught his attention.

The next time he came in you paid for his meals and declared them on the house, he came over to say thank you, a little smirk on his lips as he caught a glimpse of your work for your Criminology course. You couldn’t help but grin as you were currently working on your report of “Why We Need the Ghost Face Killer”. You knew your professor wouldn’t accept it, but geniuses weren’t always appreciated in their time.

He didn’t come in the next day to your dismay, but when you heard his voice at the door at closing time you felt your heartbeat in your ears. You couldn’t speak as he came to your regular table with two large boxes of donuts. Your dad gave a disapproving look but stayed quiet, “the customer was always right” after all. Jed asked if you wanted to talk true crime and share some snacks, you didn’t notice that he didn’t touch the donuts, he just watched you eat them. That was always what he called your first date.

Things moved very quickly after that, as soon as you admitted you knew he was the Ghost Face killer there was no need for secrecy. Jed set out a list of rules for you to follow from now on. Firstly, you would eat whatever he gave you whenever he gave it to you. It didn’t matter what you were doing - sleeping, jerking off, shitting, if he had food to shove in your mouth it was filling your mouth. End of discussion. Secondly, Jed was your owner now, and he decided everything from the clothes you wore, to the places you went to, and to who you spoke to. Finally, and most importantly, you would he weighed daily. If your weight went down you’d be punished, if it went up you’d be rewarded. You didn’t have a choice really, he pretended you did but given that he was shoving cake in your mouth as he told you, and given that he’d just fucked you full of his seed that was dripping down your bloated fupa… what were you going to say?

The best part was when you reached immobility, the first day you tried to get out of bed and failed he was delighted. When you tried harder and just broke the rail Jed had installed for you in your new home (no college dorms any more, his pet didn’t need college), he was so happy he gave you the best reward he could. You were going to be his new corpse disposal, and you couldn’t think of a higher honour.

The Pig

Amanda is a submissive feeder to a dominant feedee, Michael Myers.

It was an unexpected pairing. They first started talking when Amanda had a lunch box filled with delicious homemade food shoved into her hands from Bubba, the third of the week. Amanda hadn’t ever had much of an appetite during her life, so in the Entity’s realm she never ate. She didn’t have to, it wasn’t fun, why bother? However she didn’t have enough experience accepting presents to know how to turn them down. This time, Michael waddled over to her, it was strange - she’d heard of the Halloween Murders but she hadn’t ever pictured Michael as being quite so obese. It seemed the Entity changed them all. She didn’t know how but despite him not talking she knew he was asking if she was going to eat the gift, she shrugged and handed it over. It seemed this new arrangement would suit everyone involved.

Amanda began bringing Bubba’s gifts to Michael, unaware to begin with that he’d already received a large amount from the Cannibal. With twice as much of one food source, on top of everything else - especially with the appetite enhancers Bubba drugged his food with - Michael began to gain to a far greater extent. Amanda found herself hanging around him, finding she actually quite liked serving him. He got more and more demanding as he grew, and Amanda became softer and meeker. When he became immobile she responded by using him as a gigantic bed. She’d climb on top of his gut and curl up to sleep, she’d stretch out and laze around, and shove food and corpses into Michael’s mouth.

Michael was always demanding about his requests, and if Amanda was too slow she’d feel some fat fingers tugging on her hair, or she’d have a gigantic roll crush her small body when she returned. She was expected to predict when he would be hungry, and she got very good at it. She enjoyed having a space where she was completely dependent on someone else, she needed extreme amounts of control or none at all.

Michael never seemed interested in Amanda when it came to sex, and she didn’t care much about intimacy when it came to him either. No, their relationship was entirely about causing Michael to be as fat as possible, and giving Amanda a firm hand so she could just be a pet whose special trick was bringing food to her master.

The Trickster

Ji-Woon feeds his partner out of sadism, and Jed gains out of careless hedonism.

Ji-Woon doesn’t like Jed at all. He can’t stand him, but also considers him fascinating. Whenever Jed laughs or goes on about the Miner or his other heroes Ji-Woon cringes and scoffs, he was such an embarrassing little fanboy. However, the fact Jed hung around Ji-Woon so much wasn’t really something he fought against. In fact, he decided to play a game to see just how oblivious he could be, to prove he wasn’t the master stalker he claimed.

It started small, they’d always eat lunch together - Ji-Woon would have something small and he’d watch as Jed stuffed his face again, and again, and again. He’s even encouraged it, plating up more food than he could eat and pushing it towards Jed. After that, it’s easy. A few comments about how attractive fat men are, Ji-Woon lightly brushes his index finger over Jed’s ever-growing gut… Soon Jed is gorging himself regularly for a little bit of Ji-Woon’s attention.

Thankfully, the Entity is on board and adapts Jed’s abilities to work despite his size - especially since at five hundred pounds Jed’s asthma means he can’t walk too long at all. Ji-Woon, represses a cruel laugh at his wheezing chest and deep red cheeks. Instead he croons, stroking Jed’s face and feigning sympathy.

It’s only when Jed is a thousand pounds and beyond repair that Ji-Woon comes clean. He slaps Jed’s gut cruelly and admits this was simply a curiosity to him, a game. Surely a master stalker based killer should have realised that sooner? He brags about how much cleverer he is, and how Jed is just his pathetic little pet hog.

What Ji-Woon doesn’t account for is the fact Jed can still lift his arms, and how it feels to be crushed under gigantic, heavy, sweat soaked rolls of flesh.

The Huntress

She is a devoted feeder, but her feeder has to be forced into both being fed and romance for a while until their brain has been broken.

Ever since she found you in the forest bleeding to death, you’ve never been able to leave your bed. She nursed you back to health, but she also restrained you with bonds tighter than steel.

The rope against your wrists and ankles didn’t loosen until the masses of meat she brought you to eat began to make your body too huge and weak to rise yourself.

At first you were a weeping, skinny little thing, tugging at your ropes and unappreciative of all she was doing for you. Screaming at every opportunity. As soon as you hit three hundred pounds your attitude changed. You began mewling for her, licking the blood from the dead carcasses she brought you off of her fingers.

By the time you are an immobile blob, you are truly devoted to her. You feel a pain in your gut when she is away, needing to eat to hide it to the point where if enough meat is not left you begin eating the furniture. Not that your love ever scolds you if you do, she hums, giggles and rubs your gut, she teases you a little but apologises for being late as she climbs onto you - your body now being her bed and dwarfing even her.

#envi writes #nsft fanfic #extreme weight gain #dom feeder #dom feedee #sub feedee #sub feeder #dbd fanfic

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the0ldmann · 1 year

Text

SDJ x DBD crossover

Writing below the cut.

The game "Something's Wrong with Sunny Day Jack" and the associated fandom are 18+ spaces. Minors and Ageless blogs will be blocked on sight- no second chances.

TW: Violence and mentions of death (DBD is a horror game after all...)

Another thing my brain was thinking about off n on. Maybe now that this is done, it can focus on part 2 again. That's been sitting at 2.7k words for a bit now and I'm not entirely sure how much longer it's going to end up being.

---

Your lungs ached from the effort of running. Looking back was not an option as you lept over a ledge, desperate to get as far away as possible from your hunter.

A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of him. The ease with which he picked up your friends and threw them onto those meat hooks terrified you. Since he was that strong, was there any use in trying to fight back?

Your brief yet panicked thoughts were interrupted as you stumbled right into a hooked comrade. They couldn't even focus on their surroundings long enough to notice your presence as they were too busy fighting off a spidery limb. Looking around for a second confirmed you had indeed escaped that technicolor brute and the coast was clear for helping. Carefully, you lifted them up and off the hook, and the limb gave up, dissolving back into the inky abyss that was supposed to be the sky.

"Thank you, I don't know if I could have held out much longer." It was Jeff that thanked you as the two of you crept off to the side. Thankfully there was a medkit by the nearby window and within seconds you had his wound patched up. At least, he was patched up as good as you could get him. Lack of medical knowledge was certainly a drawback, but you had been doing your best to pick up what you could from the others.

"We gotta look out for each other after all." Jeff nodded. It was rough out here. Who knew how many times you all had supposedly died. Plus some of the monsters lurking around these twisted playgrounds required intense teamwork to get around.

You shudder again as you hear the tell-tale windy groan that signified someone had been taken.

"We should get a move on if we wanna make it out of here."

"We can't leave the other one behind though, we have to help!"

"You know where they were hooked?" It took a second of thought, but you nodded.

"I think I can retrace my steps just fine."

"Good." The two of you started walking. "Chances are big guy's heading this way since you saved me- they all seem to have some weird supernatural sense for knowing when we've been helping each other. Coast should be clear enough for you to double back and help whoever is left off of their hook. Thank the stars he's not a camper like some of them. Better hurry though. I'll take care of that generator over there in the meantime- try to open us a way out of here."

Without another word the two of you part ways. As brief as your reunion had been, there was work to be done and dawdling would do no good for anyone. Especially for the poor girl you left when you ran for your life.

Admittedly, you being caught would have spelled the end of all of you, but you still felt a little bad about it. As skittish as you were approaching a more recently hooked comrade, you hurried along and found her quicker than you had expected. The spindly limbs hadn't even fully materialized yet before you were lifting her off the hook and dragging her away. Medkit in hand, you took a moment to use up what was left to patch her up.

"Thank you so much!" She was doing her best to whisper quietly, but she still was a little louder than planned with her enthusiasm. As you looked at her blonde hair, you seemed to recall her name was Kate.

"Gotta look out for each other, right?"

"Of course! I was working on a generator over there if you wanna come help?"

Before you could say another word she had already taken off. You tried to follow, but she was just too quick vaulting those windows and soon you were on your own. After stumbling around for a bit, lights came on in the distance in two separate spots. The three of you had started off getting one generator done before you got forcefully separated, so that meant there were only two left to start up. You hoped your hunter wouldn't be close by since he had clues elsewhere to follow.

As you crouched by a generator to start working on it, your thoughts began to wander.

It seemed odd, the whole situation. Like it was all some twisted game you were being forced to partake in. As much as you hated it, you enjoyed the fact it seemed that none of you ever truly died. You would like to think it was because something here cared- wanted to see you succeed. As time wore on, you questioned more if it just enjoyed seeing everyone get tortured over and over again.

Even the numerous killers you had to run from looked to be a little fucked up themselves. Only those more willing to kill looked like anything close to normal.

It made it difficult at times to tell who was and wasn't on your side, at least when there were new ones.

Which is why you were extra terrified of the big guy in charge of hunting you down now. He was big, wearing bright, primary colored clothing, had the bluest hair you'd ever seen, and the face paint he had on made him look kind of like a clown.

Hell, maybe he was a clown. He certainly looked like some kind of mascot or character from a kid show.

But how fucked up was he that he didn't appear to have been brutalized by the entity keeping everyone here?

You were just about done with the generator, but alas your distracting thoughts left you unaware of your surroundings and you screamed as a hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. Flailing and wiggling as best you could, you just couldn't seem to shake out of his grip. Effortlessly he flung you over his shoulder, and you cursed your noodle-y limbs for being so much weaker than the average person.

Not that that kept you from trying to free yourself though. Terror and anticipation of the pain from those hooks kept you kicking for dear life. It was all you could think about.

Except that particular pain never came.

After what felt like an eternity, he threw you down onto something mildly soft and bouncy. As you laid there dazed he went over to the only entrance to this room to shut and lock it. He pulled up a chair to the bedside, sitting down, and looking like he wanted to say something. Nothing came out, and he could only nervously chew his bottom lip instead.

You stared at him. Rapidly sitting up and scooting back against the wall in an effort to get away from him, all you could bring yourself to do then was stare.

Why the hell didn't he just kill you? Wasn't that the goal set before these sickos?

"S-so..." He broke the silence, sounding almost worried. If only he was a survivor, then the worry would be believable. "I'm sorry, this is kind of awkward, isn't it."

"Understatement of the century," you spat back. He winced at the words.

"Look I... I want to protect you. That sounds weird, I know!" He tried to put his hands up in a non threatening gesture. "But if you give me a chance... You'll never have to worry about going out there again! No more weird spider-y limbs coming down from the sky, no more pain... you'd be safe here. With me. That's all I want for you."

"Why the hell should I trust you? You just tried to kill my friends!"

"First off, they're not your friends." His voice seemed a tad bit colder when talking about any of the others. "Do you know how often I watched them- all of them- throw each other under the bus when things get tough? If it meant their survival, they'd trip you into the arms of... of... one of those freaks!"

"Oh, like you're any better than the other killers we have to run from?"

He looked down at the floor.

Silence filled the room. Though you could barely see the expression on his face, you could tell you struck a nerve.

"I didn't want to... Th-that... THING threatened to hurt me if I didn't..."

He was mumbling under his breath. You almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

He suddenly looked back up and smiled.

"But that doesn't matter, as long as I have you. I struck a deal with it just so I could keep you safe, but you have to stay here with me."

"So you expect me to abandon my friends for a total stranger that I'm pretty sure wants to torture me and isn't being forward about it?"

"Sunshine I- they're not your friends. But I am! You can trust me, I swear! My name is Sunny Day Jack. See? I'm not a stranger anymore! Please believe that I just want to keep you safe."

He was leaning forward in the chair, desperation written plain as the day you craved across his features.

You eyed him wearily.

"And why do you supposedly want to protect a total stranger?"

The adoration that proceeded to bleed from him caused a shiver to run down your spine. You couldn't tell if it was sincerely cute or creepy.

"From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were special. You seemed to be the only one who could understand me. The only one who might be willing to give me a chance. You’re too good for the likes of any of them. And that thing I mentioned earlier? It gave me visions- a look into your lonely little life... I can be there for you, just like you've always wanted a friend to be. You just need to let me protect you. Please..."

You still weren't entirely convinced, but as you heard the sound of a gate alarm travel through the walls, you knew you had to run.

What if the entity in control decided to renege on its deal- assuming it even made one to begin with?

Getting skewered from below didn't sound like a fun time to you.

Jack was twisting his gloved hands together, anxious for a response. You had a gut feeling the losing side was punished, but you really did not want your friends to lose. Now was the time to act.

"Alright, I'll give you a chance."

He sprang up, scooping you up into a big hug. Your stomach dropped through the floor as you clung to him for those few seconds, not because you were scared of him, but because you could feel some weird burning sensation in your chest that hadn't been there before.

And what followed it was a pure rush of elation. This certainly wasn't something you'd normally feel in this situation, but when you started to make out the vague chanting of "Sunshine, my Sunshine, all mine" in your thoughts, the realization that he had made some sort of deal to keep you hit you harder than the Hillbilly's chainsaw.

“Thank you so much Sunshine- I promise, you won’t regret it! Now just wait here while I go deal with the others. It’ll take me no time at all, I swear!”

As he left, he locked the door behind him, leaving you all alone. Looking around, you confirmed the door was indeed the only exit.

Good thing whatever was in charge of the physics of this place was a little stupid. You took the pin out of your hair, wiggled it in what you assumed was the keyhole, and after a few seconds you heard a click. Putting the pin back in your hair, you slowly cracked open the door.

The coast was clear.

Tiptoe-ing as fast as you could out of whatever building you were in, you did your best to make it outside and broke into a sprint. You weren’t sure if you were headed towards the open gate, but you didn’t have the time to stop and think.

Pain shot through your shoulder as you ducked behind a corner and you blinked. Jack wasn’t anywhere nearby. Your shoulder wasn’t actually hurt, either.

Perhaps the Entity really did tie us together… That pain must have meant someone stabbed his shoulder to get away after getting picked up. I need to hurry up.

Luck should have it that you’d come across the open gate, with Jeff sitting on the inside. He could see you from the angle he was at from just behind the wall and waved you over. It didn’t take long for you to pick your way through the trees to get to him. The two of you proceeded to speak urgently in whispers.

“Where’s Kate?”

“She got driven off by the big guy. I won’t be able to survive if I get caught again, so I’m waiting here. Hoping if she comes through, I can take the hit for her then.”

“She is pretty good at shaking them off… Maybe she’ll come running through after losing him and we can all get out together.”

“Maybe…” Jeff contemplated while you crouched next to him. You didn’t have any way to patch up the new wound on his side, so he was stuck half-injured until you all got back to the campfire. Your hunch about Kate was right though, as she came creeping out of the bushes at a brisk pace.

“Thank God,” said Jeff as he stood up. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

As they started moving towards the exit, you remained crouching, glued to your spot. You could feel Jack’s frustration growing through your bond, as well as his desperation…

“What’s wrong?” Kate stopped Jeff and they looked back at you.

“I-I don’t know. I don’t think I should go. I have a bad feeling…”

They walked over and grabbed your arms, hoisting you up.

“Nonsense. We’re in this together, right? You’re coming with us. You don’t need to sacrifice yourself. We can talk about how you're feeling once we’re back. You know some of them have weird magic.”

“Wait I-” Your words were cut short as they dragged you towards and through the exit.

Looking back, you could see Jack stopped by the spikes at the exit, meaning he had lost this little game of cat and mouse. However, you could still feel both the hurt and anger from him. As if it wasn’t written plainly on his face.

Did he think they had doubled back to save you?

You hoped this wouldn’t bring the wrath you were feeling down on them. If there really was any part of him that cared, you’d hoped he would understand.

You’ll try to explain next time you see him. Hell, maybe you’d try to sneak off and leave him a letter. Your friends needed your help.

Maybe once they were out of this gods forsaken hell, you could come back and help him out of here too.

The ache in your chest turned dull the further you got, but never fully went away.

You weren’t sure what this meant, but you were almost positive dealing with Jack in the future was about to be a lot harder.

#minors dni #ageless blogs dni #sunny day jack #sdj #something's wrong with sunny day jack #swwsdj

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auricfog · 21 days

Note

A 🙏🏽💕

excellent letter..... 😈

akilah 'aki' umelo - dbd - ok she's still simmering like i Literally just put her in the pot but she'll be a 5-star meal when i'm done w her. the gist of it is she's a horticulturist specializing in hydroponics and was working alongside her husband, fitz (@risingsh0t :3), when they discovered something............ very strange in the communications lab of their 22nd century research outpost 😳 this does NOT lead them to their realm-shaped doom trust me. TRUST ME!!!!!

arnold 'arnie' johnston - l.a. noire - the redheaded prick that started my love affair with redeeming the worst men in my oc roster (and take that as a WARNING bc somehow bruce has become my hyperfixation oc) the story has been told so many times before but i'll tell it again... arnie was just a simple man who married his childhood sweetheart, lola (at the time Just Lucy), after the both of them were pressured into it by their oh-so-loving parents. fast forward five years of resentment and constant arguing and then..... oops divorce. it's fine? they kind of end up reconciling as friends after recognizing it was their parents (specifically his dad and her mom. carla grant i s2g ur the worst) that were the problem. and story-wise, he ends up being jack's Inside Guy at elysian fields even tho the two of them would VERY MUCH RATHER strangle each other. enemy of my enemy is my friend or whatever!

asher 'ash' smith - dbd / tcm - my loser man my baby boy my short jester. dbd-wise, he was one of jen's foster siblings for about a year and a half until she was placed in a different home... the surname smith was just a random one i used EARLY like i mean insanely early in her development when i was figuring out her backstory so i just went back to it like ok! this is canon now! without going into too much insane detail, he ends up a thirty-something loser working as a welder at a machine shop with no real goals beyond that... until the entity snatches him up and making a better life for himself starts to look nice. he ends up finding some genuine companionship in gloria (@risingsh0t again :3) so that definitely contributes to it! also he tends to get mistaken for myers in a trial because he was taken in his work coveralls and from a good enough distance u can pretend he's tall enough to be the big guy tcm-wise............ well! i will try to be brief bc ngl i've got a whole ass timeline in my brain for him that is highkey insane. basically he is just a VERY protective older brother and ended up on a search for his step-sister, jenny grace, after getting a gut feeling something bad had happened to her. and ... he was right! he ends up going through hell to save her and also gets entangled with the one and only seb (who ofc belongs to you 🤭) in the process. that's his mfing wife!!!!

#asks #oc: akilah umelo #oc: arnie johnston #yea we truly are bringing THAT clown back bc i've been thinking about him again #he will never leave me i fear......................................#oc: ash smith #i'll have to do the rest of these tomorrow bc i'm exhausted after a hellish evening. sleepytime 😴

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thatonesongyouretryingtoremember · 4 months

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For the DBD ask game: 9, 14, 21!

my ask meme

9. fave magical being

ooh that's a toughie! I'm tempted to say teeth face but that deja like a cop-out after your answer...

I've also definitely said it was Monty before, but that feels like cheating bc he's my fave character. Can I help it if both of his transformation scenes are a delightfully creative version of magical transmutation? Ignore the Horrors.

OH WAIT. MY BABIES: THE SPRITES! I can't wait to see more of them, I think they're being very subtly at up for a redemption arc. Plus I love the concept of the thing that makes them evil (being attention whores) is literally written into their existence, they can't live without the sacrifices. The fact that it doesn't even mean they need to be bad guys, their worshipers in the old days literally sacrificed humans to them and they were willing to explode Niko just to make Crystal look at them, but they're also eating just fine as long as Niko talks to them every day. plus they're funny as hell.

14. plotline you would put into any future season

Monty becoming human again. I want him to talk about his mother issues on screen. Imagine if he figured out how to change back without having to kill himself? That would be completely relevant to Esther! plus, it'd be a great way to keep Esther relevant to the main plot given that she's supposed to make a reappearing.

Also, Emma and Crystal reconnecting! Emma is the one person we know had a GOOD image of Crystal before she got possessed, and I need to know more about her perspective!

21. something in the show that made you happy

I already mentioned Esther being sexy and powerful without being a femme fatale, so moving on and in a somewhat similar vein:

Charles was SO excited to tell Edwin about kissing Crystal! like there was so much buildup with the cats saying "they'll hit it" and Crystal talking about her body count and whatever David implied in the malt shop, then it's all like "BAM: these characters are sixteen and kissing is a new cool thing for them. not all teen stories have to have characters have sex, it just isn't a part of this particular one."

like, I totally thought it was a fade-to-black implied ghost sex scene until Charles, practically giggling and kicking his feet, was like "we... snogged🥺" and I realized that in this show it just happens to make more sense the way it is. I guess I'm not used yo seeing anything besides sex be regarded as a relationship "landmark" in TV, even though different people are into different things.

tysm for the ask!!

#tw0-ravens #asks #dbd netflix #dead boy detectives #about the dead boys

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dcwnthercbbithcle · 7 months

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♡ hi doe hiii

Send ♡ To See What my Muse Thinks of Yours || ACCEPTING

HIIIII LELAND HI! I was really back and forthing on a little drabble, but I didn't want to put Leland in any situation without your go-ahead ASDHASD.

All I know is that Doe is calling Leland Lance as the biggest sign of her considering him a close friend. He asks where her standing of him is and she is completely unable to meet his eyes, which is uncharacteristic.

Silly sunshine men ARE one of her weak points, I'm sorry. And I'm thinking so so hard about her latching onto him and his, not innocence, but his fight to avoid the sinking pit of negativity and complacency. He's fighting to keep his sense of normal, other survivors are joking like 'What's the worst that could happen? We die?' and Leland is indignant, like 'Yes! Exactly!' they die a lot but it's not fair and it doesn't have to be this way! He's not going to let the knowledge that this isn't normal or fine or worth fighting against die and Doe agrees with him! She's nudging the others to cut out the overly gallows commentary! Just !!!! HEAD FULL MANY THOUGHTS ON DBD LELAND AAAAAA

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

#🦌 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄. || this time she never returned

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dreamerdoesthewritething · 1 year

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[Another self-insert comfort fic featuring me and Leon. Because after something I did to myself recently. I need this yet I keep putting it off because I'm distracted by DBD again. ><]

[Content warning for trichotillomania, aka hair-pulling disorder. It's a form of self-harm, so warning for that as well.]

----------------------------

It'll Grow Back

It happened again.

It's not something that happens all the time, but when I'm stressed, sometimes...

All I can think of is how Leon will react when he sees it. I might be able to hide it for a while, but not forever. He's too observant. He's also too loving of all of me. He'll probably realize something's wrong the moment he lays eyes on me. I'm no good at hiding these kinds of things...or anything, really. From him or anyone who has any observation skills.

I put on my tri-colored hoodie, pulling the hood up over my head until it almost covers my eyes. It's rare to find clothes that are big on me, and this hoodie is somewhat oversized, in a good way. It hides my shame. Won't draw attention to me, either. Leon's used to seeing me wear this no matter my mood. It's just that comfy, you know? Hell, he's even stolen it from me and worn it himself from time to time.

He's not away on any life-threatening missions, but he is at work. I have no idea what he does when the world doesn't need him to save it. I mean, I don't really know what he does when it needs saving, either, but that's because he can't tell me without consequence. Maybe the same is true for the mundane, sorta 9-to-5 stuff as well? It's fine. I don't mind being in the dark. And normally I want him home as soon as possible, but today...I don't mind if he takes his time.

I must've dozed off. Sitting on the couch with something on the television, comfy in my hoodie, and tired from just being me...It was a recipe for knocking me out. I only come to because I feel something touching me. Leon's lips on my forehead. If it was any other time, such a sweet little show of affection would've been enjoyed with sleepy enthusiasm. Not today. Because of what happened earlier, the action causes me to jolt, eyes opening wide as my hands fly up to tug my hood down to cover my forehead again.

Real smooth. Now he'll never suspect something's up with me.

Leon apologizes for startling me. I apologize for being jumpy, citing terrible sleep from the night before. I'm lying, just a bit. I am sorry for my reaction, but I'm almost always tired, so lack of sleep isn't an excuse. He sits down beside me, hip against hip, and gently pulls my hooded head against his chest as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. I all but melt into his side.

"What's wrong?" he asks after several moments of silence pass.

"What...? I already told you I'm--"

He says my name in that tone that has me shutting up. His soft yet stern spare-me-the-bullshit tone. I shrink into myself. I'd normally shrink away from him altogether, but it's impossible with his arm around me. He's all muscle, after all.

I sigh. "I really am tired...But I also just...I don't know. I'd tell you if I did, I swear."

I can't tell if Leon believes me, even though this is mostly the truth, because I can't bring myself to look up at him. The incident from earlier is affecting me, but I don't know why I did what I did. I don't know what's wrong with me, what triggered me to do it. How can I explain something like this?

Without warning, Leon pulls back my hood, acting too quickly for me to resist. My sins are revealed. I scream his name angrily, trying to cover my hair with my hands but I know it's too late. He's seen the damage. He violated my privacy and pissed me off, but there's no hiding it any longer.

"Sweetheart, what did you--?"

"Fuck you!"

I fight against his hold, and he doesn't resist. Tears are welling in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall, cursing myself for being an angry crier because it only makes me feel worse. He shouldn't have taken my hood off without my consent. He knows that. He knows he fucked up. Doesn't change a damn thing.

As I'm rushing off out of the room, he doesn't try to stop me. Good. That would be the worst thing he could do right now. Touching me, that is. As much as I crave his affection, it's also unwanted after what he did. I make my way into our room, then into the closet, slamming both doors behind me. Slumping against the closet door in the dark, I slide down until I'm seated on the floor and just start crying.

Maybe this is an overreaction. Maybe I'm a mess unworthy of Leon's love. But I'd have preferred to come around to telling Leon about my hair-pulling on my own time, when I was ready. He wasn't supposed to reveal the damage and force me to do it when I'm not ready. Like what the fuck, man? I even flushed the evidence down the toilet so he wouldn't discover all the hair in the trashcan and ask about it.

Should've known this would happen. He enjoys playing with my hair, despite how easily it tangles and knots and refuses to bend to the will of a comb or brush for more than a few minutes. The downside of having curly hair, you know? I've hated it for most of my life because it was always being compared to my older sisters' straight locks that rarely ever knotted and fought for years to make mine like theirs. Leon's helped me to hate it less. He's also helped me take better care of it. He knows a thing or two about hair care. I mean, have you seen his hair? He probably spends more time on it than it takes him to shower. Not that it's a bad thing.

How long did I sit in the dark bawling my eyes out? Couldn't tell you. Long enough for Leon to run out to pick up something for dinner for us. Long enough for me to get super snotty. Long enough that I got a headache, probably from dehydration. When's the last time I drank anything? My ugly crying drained me of everything. I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep...after my headache was dealt with, anyway.

There's a quiet knock on the door behind me. The closet door doesn't have a lock. Leon could just open it. But he waits for permission, or for me to do it myself. I reach up and turn the knob once I feel it in the dark, letting the door open without pulling away from it. This results in me falling onto my back out of the door, legs still crossed and bleary eyes staring straight up towards the ceiling. I don't bother putting my hood back up. There's no point anymore.

"I'm so sorry," Leon says, getting on his knees by my head. He leans over so all I can see above me is his handsome face. His hands hover above my face for a second before dropping to the floor on either side of me, supporting his weight.

"I'm sorry, too," I say. My gaze remains unfocused thanks to the tears, my feelings, and the fact I'm not wearing my glasses. No holding eye contact for me. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"No, I earned that," he insists.

"Only you'd say something like that."

"You've said it before, too."

I sigh heavily, my chest shaking slightly like I'm still crying even though my eyes are just wet at this point. "Alright, fine. Only we would say something like that. Is that better?"

He gives me a small smile. "Not really." A pause. "If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to. Let's just have dinner for now, okay?"

I nod. He offers to help me up. I hold up my arms, which he grabs and uses to lift me off the floor with little effort. That's something I'll never get used to, considering how heavy I am. Once I'm on my feet, he lets go and keeps space between us. He's as touch-starved as me, but he forces himself to hold his hands at his sides. I glance down at the one closest to me before slipping mine into it. He gently squeezes as he leads me to the dining table.

We eat in relative silence. At some point, I get up to pop a couple ibuprofen for my head to expedite relief since drinking something isn't working fast enough. Our conjoined hands remain that way throughout the meal. Makes it a little harder to eat, but we didn't mind enough to stop doing it.

After dinner, I rest my forehead on the table, closing my eyes. It would be hard to hear me talking like this, so I turn my head slightly in Leon's direction so my voice wouldn't get super muted by the table. Yeah, I'm ready to explain myself now. Well, as ready as I can be, anyway. If things went according to plan, I'd be doing this days from now, but life's a bitch and doesn't like to work with me.

Sometimes when I'm stressed, I rip hair out of me. I hate body hair as it is, hate when I grow it, and honestly, I've been tearing hair out of certain parts of me so often for so long that it barely even hurts. I'm thinking of one specific area, which if you know, you know. It's a sensitive part and yet I pull hair from that region without problem. Rarely do I ever attack the hair on my head, though.

When I do pull the hair out of my head, I often don't register I'm doing it until it's too late. It only seems to happen when I must be stressed yet am completely unaware of it and have no idea what's caused it. By the time I realize what I'm doing, enough has been pulled out that it's nigh impossible to hide it. That's what happened this morning. I just sorta blanked and next thing I know, there's a line of baldness across my head, most obvious along the right side of it. The line is like half an inch wide in a couple places, too. My pale scalp reddened, thoroughly protesting the painful act. Most of the hair has something--the root??--at the edge as I looked at it in my hands. All I could do in that moment was stare, mortified at what I had done to myself.

Then I thought about Leon and how he'd react. Embarrassment and shame took over. I flushed the hair and hid myself in my hoodie, hoping to buy myself some time. And then everything worked against me, like the universe itself was trying to humiliate me in front of my beloved Leon.

Leon listens silently to my confession, not even flinching when I absentmindedly squeeze the everloving shit out of his hand while I talk. When I finish, he hesitantly moves his other hand towards my head, tracing the line of missing hair without actually touching me. He's learned. He's not going to risk upsetting me again. In a whisper, I give him permission to do whatever he's thinking of doing. His fingertips graze my exposed scalp as he follows the trail. I wince. Despite how long ago I hurt myself, the skin is still sensitive, still inflamed, still complaining about what I've done.

"Sorry," I say.

"It's not me who you should be apologizing to," he says, continuing to run his fingers over that path on my scalp. Is he trying to soothe the skin with his touch? I'm not sure it works that way, honey.

"Can't apologize to myself. I'll never forgive me."

"You're so hard on yourself."

"So are you, on yourself."

He chuckles. "This isn't about me."

That's unfortunately true, so I fall silent again. Leon leaves me temporarily, cleaning up after our dinner. When he returns, he scoops me up into his arms, much to my shock, and carries me back into the living room. He sits on the couch where this all started, holding me on his lap and cradling my head against his chest. I'm not as relaxed as either of us would like me to be. How can I?

"Don't worry too much. It'll grow back," he says.

"It'll take months," I say. "I'll be even uglier than normal til then."

He scowls. Of course he does. He hates when I make these kinds of comments. I know. I try not to when he's around, but this one slipped by before I could stop it. Whoops.

"Let me get the scissors. I'll match you," he says.

I bolt upright in his grasp, wrapping my arms around his head. His face is smothered in my chest, but that doesn't matter. "Leon Scott Kennedy, don't you fucking dare! Don't even joke about it!"

"It's just hair," he says, his voice muted.

"Your hair is pretty and gold and gorgeous and does not deserve to be maimed just cuz I fucked up! No! No, no, no!"

He laughed, gently pushing me away from his head. "Alright, alright! Just don't insult my beautiful girlfriend. Nothing she could ever do will make her ugly. Not to me. Not in my eyes."

"You're such a dork, you know that?"

"Maybe. But you love it."

"I do. And I love you."

"I love you, too."

#dreamer writes #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x self insert #leon s. kennedy #leon scott kennedy #comfort #trichotillomania //#hair-pulling #not the sexy kind though

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unnerving-presence · 3 years

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Hi hi hi theree this is my first time requesting something hehe.. um could I get some headcannons of the reaction of some dbd survivors maybe like jake and yui or dwight walking in on their crush getting frisky with a killer mid-trial *cough ghostface* *cough that guy’s shameless* sfw or nsfw is fine! please and thank you, and have a great day!!

hello! salutations! greetings! i’ll be happy to do that for you :))

this may be sort of short compared to my other hcs so i hope you don’t mind much

suggestive themes below!



Jake Park:

Honestly this was not what he was expecting when he walked into the gas station of Autohaven Wreckers.

Instantly stops and just. Watches for a solid minute or so. He can’t believe it. He had thought that after all that talking to you, after all the times he risked his life for you, you’d be interested in him. Guess all that work was for nothing..

If you or Ghostface catch him, he’ll just slowly back away. That’s uh.. none of his business. He’ll just go find another generator. He doesn’t really want to think about what he just saw. “GOD DAMMIT I THOUGHT I HAD IT”

Will probably mention it once or twice when you’re at the campfire together. He’s a bit heartbroken right now. He doesn’t really know what to do anymore now that all his efforts have been proved worthless.

Yui Kimura:

“What are you two doing”

You didn’t even notice her. That sneaky bitch.. She doesn’t look too happy. One, because you’re FUCKING THE KILLER. And two, because you’re not fucking her. How dare you.

Probably keeps her distance for a bit so she can really take it all in without your presence reminding her that you’re not interested in her. She’s sort of hurt. She’s tried really hard to make you happy, but it’s alright.

She takes it really well honestly. At first she’s not very fond of the thought of you being with someone else, but she grows to understand and knows that you don’t have to be with her. Kinda weird you’re with dumbass Danny of all people but hey, your loss if you wanna miss out on hella good sex but wHATEVER-

Dwight Fairfield:

PAUSE. WHAT. IS . THAT

Bro wants to cry so badly but at the same time he’s so frightened and confused he doesn’t know what to think. He’s usually a very strong person mentally and physically, but seeing you with somebody other than him makes his heart and his body hurt.

“So uh.. guess you’re not into me then, huh?”

Prob sheds a tear. He really hoped you would like his gift he made you, but now he doesn’t even want to give it to you. Just the thought of you and that wretched killer make him wanna puke. Mainly cause you’re not w him giving him the sloppiest top he would ever receive but he’ll get over it. Eventually. No he won’t

#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #jake park x reader #yui kimura x reader #dwight fairfield x reader

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noridoorman · 3 years

Text

When you’re sick | DBD Survivors

Dwight Fairfield

Dwight is the leader of all, that means he cares for others deeply. Seeing them injured or even sick gives him that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. He makes sure you’re well fed and cared for the entire time but also keeps his distance. As much as he loves to comfort you, he knows that what you have is contagious and it is better to help you from afar. But god, if it isn’t hurting him to see you in pain!

Meg Thomas

Meg gets disgusted a lot more than you expected but a good old rubbing it on your clothes is clean enough for her! Despite that, she won’t ever kiss or cuddle you when you’re sick. She sees how much you suffer, how hard it is to even fall asleep. No way is she going to risk getting what you have! But just like Dwight, she’ll help you from afar.

Claudette Morel

Claudette makes monster tea’s, the ones that almost heal you instantly and free your throat from whatever pest infected it. It’s doesn’t have to particular tasty, she concentrates more on their effect than how much you’ll enjoy it. She knows she’s supposed keep her distance but god, your pain pains her too! She’ll sit at the edge of your bed and will try to comfort you as best as she can.

Jake Park

Jake has separated himself from society and the city, which means no doctors or fancy food. Despite this, he knows damn well how to take care of a sick person! Er... Well, he knows how to take care of HIMSELF when he’s sick. But you? Instant panic mode! Well, not really but he’s do every single tea that will help you and cook whatever the hell you want. Do you want cuddles? kisses? affection? Jake is touch-starved enough that he’ll risk getting sick just to comfort you. Make sure to care for him after you’re fit again, though.

Feng Min

Feng rarely got sick. Sitting in your room all day sure helps keeping the bacteria's and viruses away! But when it’s about taking care of a sick person, she freezes! You’re not allowed to touch any of her stuff under any circumstances. You’re not allowed to sleep in her bed, the couch is comfy enough (it actually is!) and don’t you dare to sneeze or cough without a tissue on front of you! You see, she’s kind of a germophobe. Be considered!

David King

David is scared of no illness! In fact, the illnesses are scared of him (does that even make sense?). While he’s a little clumsy with preparing you soup and making tea, he sure as hell knows how to make your suffering more pleasant. Just for you, he turns into a giant teddy bear and cuddles you through the nights! And he doesn’t even get sick too despite being so close to you all the time! That cheeky bastard.

Kate Denson

Kate won’t hesitate to prepare you everything you need AND sing you to sleep whenever you want her too. Heck, you don’t even have to ask her. She knows that you have troubles sleeping and she knows exactly how to comfort you. Kate still hugs you but doesn’t show much beyond that to risk not getting sick too.

Yui Kimura

Yui’s racing career has been keeping her busy, hearing you’re sick makes her heart ache but she can’t drop out of races just for you! She’ll make sure to prepare food beforehand and place them down for you.Too bad that the soup and the tea are usually cold when you wake up so you have to reheat the. But that’s fine, cause Yui makes up for it with lots of kisses and cuddles!

#dbd x reader #dbd #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dwight fairfield x reader #jake park x reader #meg thomas x reader #Claudette morel x reader #feng min x reader #david king x reader #yui kimura x reader #kate x reader #kate denson x reader

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roswellwrites · 3 years

Text

>posts for the first time in two years

>it's 5k words of the cowboy from dbd eating p*ssy

>refuses to elaborate

>leaves

Pairing: caleb quinn x reader

Tags: oral, fingering, some dirty talk. Relatively tame considering how overboard i went with this imo

Word count: 5052 but we don’t have to talk about it

When you opened your eyes to find yourself standing in the center of Glenvale’s dusty street, you huffed.

You were used to it by now, the way the unsettlingly thick fog would seem to appear from nowhere, rolling unnaturally across the clearing as it picked and chose those who would be unfortunate this time.

You remembered holding your breath, your eyes squeezed shut and hands wringing anxiously on your lap, begging wordlessly for the Entity’s fog to pass you over.

And yet here you were.

Still, Glenvale was not the worst case scenario.

The old fort -while not exactly new territory in the Entity’s realm- was still relatively unfamiliar to you, unexplored, eerie and overgrown.

The air was always strange here, imbued with an undercurrent of dark energy, thrumming heavy and electric as if alive with the misfortune that had befallen the small settlement.

You lazily kicked a pebble in your path, the action unsettling the dust in a way that felt dramatic, even by trial standards.

You noticed your boots first, like nothing you owned in the real world but familiar to you in a way you couldn’t quite place. But it wasn’t just your shoes that were different. Some time between the campfire and the fog and arriving on the dusty streets of Glenvale, your outfit had changed completely.

The dress you wore was a new addition to your (very limited) wardrobe, short in the front and long in the back, layered but surprisingly light, contradictory to the material’s heavy appearance. The fabric itself was a deep maroon trimmed with black, matte with no hint of shine to it, unmistakably high quality though perhaps not quite authentic to the setting. The dress’s bodice was tight and low cut, flattering, you mused, if the eyeful of your own cleavage you got when you looked down was any indication.

You rubbed your gloved hands together idly, enjoying the smooth feel of the fabric and the small ‘swish swish’ of your fingers as they brushed against one another.

Beyond that you wore stockings, the material closer to sheer than opaque, lacy bands fitting you snuggly slightly above your knee as they disappeared under the hem of your skirt.

Your boots had a small heel to them, laced tightly, the cuffs extending an inch or so above the natural curve of your ankle.

You clicked your heels together experimentally, more amused than anything else.

A saloon girl outfit.

Fitting.

You stopped in the dusty street, raising your eyes skyward in awe as you admired the beautiful swirling galaxies and twinkling stars, brighter and more defined than you had ever seen them before. You allowed yourself only a moment to enjoy the sight before hurrying along, side-eyeing a wayward buzzard as it screeched its displeasure from an overturned cart in the street.

You climbed the steps leading to the saloon’s main entrance, eager to get off the street and find somewhere a little less out in the open, your eyes scanning the establishment quickly as you crossed the threshold.

The inside of the old building was a scattering of overturned furniture, tables and chairs covered in a fine layer of dust and pockmarked by bullet holes.

You cast a cursory glance over the dead bodies, frozen permanently in the entity’s snapshot, no longer human bodies but now props to set a stage.

Your eyes lingered on the bar before passing over it quickly, knowing from experience that nothing of value would be found there. You had conducted a thorough investigation the first time you were here -a search for resources of course, nothing more- finding only shattered glass and a single unmarked bottle, the lone swig of alcohol inside burning your mouth in a way that had you tasting it for the rest of the trial no matter how many times you spit.

But off to one side rested the shining star of the old saloon, an old piano that had completely enthralled you the first time you saw it and every time since.

The instrument in question was the oldest piano you’d ever seen, exciting but not all that much of a surprise given the setting. You dragged the rickety chair from its place under the keybed and took a seat, ignoring the small screech of the chair legs on the old floor as you did so.

You spread your fingers over the keys, your touch feather-light, unbothered by the accumulated dust and grime on your pristine gloves as the piano banged out its own discordant tune.

There was the light creaking of worn floorboards behind you paired with the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps as they approached. Boots, you parsed easily. Definitely boots.

You felt a flash of fear, the feeling lasting only a handful of seconds before you forced yourself to settle again. You took a moment to think of the other survivors that had entered the trial with you. Too loud to be Ace’s loafers, the wrong sound altogether to be Yui’s sandals.

Jeff then.

You straightened in your chair, casting an excited glance over your shoulder. “Jeff,” you beamed. “Check this out-“

“Not Jeff,” the tall man rasped behind you.

Your blood ran cold, all traces of your smile vanishing and eyes widening in dawning horror as your entire body went rigid with fear.

The gunslinger’s hand was on your shoulder suddenly, his grip punishing, and you spun, your heart leaping into your throat at the sight of the man towering over you. Your mouth dropped dumbly in surprise as you moved immediately to stand, to run maybe, a startled noise instead tearing itself from your throat as the cowboy shoved you backwards so hard that the old wooden chair groaned in protest.

You noticed his grin before anything else, crooked and unkind as he looked at you. His eyes were intense, sharp and predatory, alight with the thrill of having caught you off guard.

‘My heartbeat,’ your brain supplied unhelpfully, gloved hand flying to your chest as your heartbeat suddenly roared to life behind your ribs. “Why...” you trailed off, tongue darting out nervously to wet your bottom lip. “Why didn’t I hear-“

His grin widened, strange eyes dragging leisurely and without shame from your face to trail the length of your body. “Reckon you just weren’t listening, girlie.”

You followed his gaze, puzzled briefly.

You could instantly feel the blood rush to your cheeks, fear pushed aside and replaced with embarrassment to find that your skirt had ridden up when he shoved you backwards, the already short hem pushed back enough to reveal the tops of your lacy stockings and garters, decorated with small, intricate bows.

You shifted in your chair, moving instinctively to press your thighs together and smooth the fabric back into place before you stopped yourself, a piece of advice given to you by another survivor ringing clear as a bell in your ears.

“Try to catch them off guard."

‘Sure,’ you thought. ‘Why not?’

You inhaled deeply, taking a moment to compose yourself under the man’s sharp gaze, lashes fanning against your flushed cheeks as you closed your eyes. When you opened them again, you tilted your head slightly, allowing a strand of loose hair to slip free from behind your ear and teasingly brush the tops of your breasts. You shifted forward in your seat, pleased to note the obvious way that the gunslinger’s eyes drifted to your chest again. You spread your fingers over your collarbone, making a show of it as you arched your back to give the man a better view.

“Ain’t above fightin’ dirty, I see,” the tall man scoffed.

You ignored the comment in favor of action. You reached towards him, willing your hands to steady themselves as you hooked pseudo-confident fingers behind the man’s belt and tugged him playfully towards you. “Reckon we might have gotten off on the wrong foot, Mister,” you drawled, tongue darting out to wet your lips in a way that you hoped read more sultry than nervous.

There was a moment where the man simply looked at you, head tilting slightly as if mulling the phrase over. He seemed to come to his conclusion quickly enough, perhaps deciding that your sudden exaggerated southern drawl wasn’t meant to offend or that this wasn’t some kind of trap he was about to fall into.

“That so?” The man grinned. He stepped forward into your space obligingly, seeming to humor the invitation of closeness. His eyes still held that unsettling glint to them, too bright and too shiny. Unnatural. Inhuman.

Regardless, you were pleased when he dropped his gaze again, his strange eyes focusing on the slight rustle of your heavy skirt as you spread your thighs wider to accommodate him.

This was easy. This was something you could do.

You felt your heart rate spike again when he shifted his weapon in his hands, your shoddily crafted facade dangerously close to slipping as you fought the urge to flinch. You allowed your eyes to linger on the gun for only a moment before sliding your gaze instead to his face, forcing an air of casualness. “I bet if you put that gun down, we could find a better use for those hands of yours, cowboy.”

You knew the gunslinger could end this little game right now if he wanted, could pick you up and carry you to a hook and there would be nothing you could do about it. But the thought of escaping the situation (or the trial, for that matter) was no longer at the forefront of your mind, a concept that emboldened but -more importantly- thrilled you in a way you couldn’t quite articulate.

That’s all this entire scenario was; just one big trust fall.

The gunslinger made a small noise at the offer, over exaggerated as if mulling it over. “Hmmm…” he said, stretching the sound long enough that you had to tamp down your fear again. After a brief pause, there was the dull sound of steel meeting wood as the man reached past you to prop his gun in the corner where the piano met the wall.

All at once the tension seemed to leave your chest, like a bubble that had burst behind your rib cage. You exhaled softly through your nose, breathing a silent sigh of relief as you cast your eyes upwards to see now that the large man’s expression truly had shifted from ‘firmly murderous’ to ‘more than slightly amused.’

With his hands now free, the gunslinger reached down to cup your jaw, calloused thumb passing idly over your lips as if inspecting you.

“My, you certainly are a pretty thing, aren’t ya,” he mused. “Never woulda guessed what with all the blood yer always covered in.”

Without the immediate threat of death looming over your head, you allowed your shoulders to loosen. You shifted forward in your seat, one hand sliding from his belt to linger now on his thigh. Time to really go for it. “Maybe we could work out some kind of...trade.”

“Oh?” He asked, smug. “And what could you possibly offer me that I couldn’t just take?”

“Been told I’m pretty good with my mouth,” you said matter of factly, purposely ignoring the second half of the question. You tilted your chin upwards slightly, both hands coming up now to catch the gunslinger’s hand as his thumb lingered by your mouth. You parted your lips slightly, taking the tip of the aforementioned digit into your mouth and closing your teeth playfully around it.

The taste that hit your tongue wasn’t as unpleasant as you thought it might be, all dust and faded tobacco and some sort of bitter machine oil. Certainly not a deterrent. “Just say the word, cowboy, and I’ll get on my knees and take you for one hell of a ride.”

The gunslinger said nothing at first, as if processing the information he was given. Finally after a moment he spoke.

“I’ll do you one better, girlie,” he grinned. He moved quickly then, giving you only a few seconds to process what was said before he was lifting you out of your chair, settling you with ease on the dusty piano top. “Won’t even have to get on your knees for it.”

You froze at the suddenness with which he moved you, reminiscent of a deer in headlights. You regained your bravado quickly however, lifting one thigh and then the other as you freed your dress from where it had become trapped beneath you. “Is that so?” You asked.

He watched the movement of the fabric with hungry eyes, his calloused hands moving from their resting position at your waist downwards, trailing your hips before settling firmly on your closed thighs.

Your heart leapt into your throat as exploratory fingers dipped below your skirt to find the top of one stocking, hooking a finger beneath the garter and snapping it lightly against your thigh. You squirmed, your eyes glued helplessly on his long fingers as he began to push the fabric up and out of the way.

“Reckon you’ll have to pardon my eagerness,” the man said, though the crooked grin on his lips and the mischievous glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t as apologetic as he tried to appear. “Suppose if I was a gentleman I might be takin’ this a little slower,” he mused, meeting your eyes before continuing. “But it’s been a long time since I was a gentleman…and I’m in a mighty big hurry to get started.”

From here the gunslinger made quick work of your garter clasps, his deft fingers moving immediately upwards to catch the edge of your delicate ruffled bloomers.

You could feel yourself blushing heavily in anticipation, too warm, almost dizzying as the heat crept further into your chest and face.

The man paused, his predatory gaze finally straying from your lower half to meet your eyes. His lopsided smirk widened further as he seemed to catch sight of your frazzled expression. “You pick these out?” He asked teasingly, tugging playfully at the fabric.

You opened your mouth to speak, your long overheated brain struggling and failing to churn out a suitable answer. “No,” you said instead, decidedly less than intelligent.

He chuckled at this, seemingly amused as he worked the undergarments down your thighs and then over your boots with ease.

You inhaled sharply at the experimental prodding of his fingers at your entrance, the almost gentle way he pressed forward before withdrawing, spreading your growing slick in his wake.

The sounds of your wetness were already audible -embarrassingly so- even over your shaky breathing and the screech of the buzzards outside. You closed your eyes, attempting to ignore the lewdness of the sound but finding this only served to deepen your blush and make you wetter.

“This doin’ somethin’ for you, sweetheart?” The cowboy asked, entirely too self-satisfied for your liking. “Or are you just easily excited?”

You chose to remain silent, a futile attempt to preserve the small amount of dignity you had left.

When he placed his hand on your middle and guided you back gently, you took the hint, supporting your weight with your arms as you leaned backwards to give him better access. From here he bent forward to get a better look at you, large hands forcing your thighs wide, grunting in annoyance when the brim of his large hat bumped against your stomach.

“Damn hat,” he muttered, his tone edging on irritated as he all but snatched the offending accessory from his head and placed it swiftly on top of your own. “Hold this for me, would you?”

You reached up reflexively, grabbing the brim of the old hat and lifting it slightly where it had fallen into your eyes.

You jolted at the first touch of his lips, sudden and bold, cheeks flushed and eyes squeezing shut at the sensation of his harsh stubble on your delicate inner thighs.

“Christ,” you said, too caught off guard to say anything else.

“We’re just gettin’ started.”

His mouth was hot against you, impossibly wet, the movements of his tongue languid and unhurried, thorough as if he planned to explore every inch of you and thought himself to have all the time in the world. The gunslinger’s hands were fire where they met your skin, his calloused fingertips tracing the edges of your stockings with teasing almost feather-light touches.

You lost yourself in a sea of heat, nerve endings alight with pleasure as he really set to work. In the distance you heard a generator roar to life, so far away that you weren’t entirely sure you had heard it at all. How many was that now? Two? Three?

He flattened his tongue against you, the pressure suddenly merciless when combined with the chapped lips and the barest hint of the man’s teeth. You began to squirm, the noises now slipping freely from your lips before you could stop them. You reached for him, your shaking fingers grasping desperately at his coat collar to drag him in closer before you could think better of it.

The gunslinger shifted his weight from one leg and then the other, hooking his arms around your thighs and dragging you to the edge of the piano top and closer still to his mouth. He hooked one of your knees over his shoulder, grinning against your inner thigh as he found a new angle that seemed to please him.

You made a small noise when he pressed one of his long fingers inside of you unexpectedly, a whine slipping from between parted lips as he twisted the digit this way and that. Your hips jolted involuntarily, the action surprising you in its abruptness. Your roving hands flew from the uncomfortable hold on his collar to scrabble uselessly at whatever else you could find, settling eventually on the cowboy’s hat as it rested on your head.

You grabbed the brim with both hands, pulling it down to hide your embarrassment as the gunslinger worked you open with all the experience of a man who had done this many times.

“Now, now,” he chastised, one arm moving from where it curled around your thigh to reach up, pulling the hat from your hands easily and replacing it atop your head in its original position. He flicked the brim teasingly, knocking it upwards and away from your eyes. “No hidin’, girlie.”

You gasped when he added a second finger alongside the first, your body suddenly overwhelmed entirely by the sensation. You twisted in his hold, thighs quaking and toes curling in your boots as the man continued his onslaught.

He chuckled then, a deep rumbling sound that sent another wave of liquid fire to your lower abdomen.

“You’re a sweet little thing, ain’t ya? So warm and welcomin’ for me...squeezing my fingers like you ain’t got no desire to ever see me go,” he teased. His cheeks were flushed, obvious now where you weren’t entirely sure before, sun damaged face ruddy even beneath the thin layer of dirt that coated him. His breath was hot where it fanned against your inner thighs, something you were acutely aware of as he went on. “…and wetter than a goddamn thunderstorm already,” he continued with a grin, seeming to revel in your squirming. “You sure don’t disappoint, do ya?”

You could feel your face heat impossibly further under the scrutiny, shaking legs attempting and failing to squeeze shut subconsciously as the man’s words began to register in your delayed brain.

He gave another raspy laugh, as if amused by the halfhearted attempt.

“Aww, now don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he grinned, turning his head to deliver a playful nip to your inner thigh. You could feel his large hands on your trembling knees, spreading them to their previous positions and then a little beyond that, exposing you obscenely to his hungry gaze.

As he brought his mouth back to your heated flesh, you realized you had never felt like this before, so entirely overwhelmed and thoroughly devoured.

This was going to ruin you.

There was movement to your right, a flash of pink just beyond the window, and you shifted your eyes to it instinctively.

Ace’s eyes were unreadable behind his reflective lenses, his lips pressed into a tense line, more serious perhaps than you had ever seen him. He lifted his hand slowly, raising his thumb first in question before rotating his wrist nearly a full 180 degrees and giving the universal signal for thumbs down.

You blinked slowly in confusion, eyes moving from the man’s hand then to his face and then back again. You knew you were supposed to say something here, or maybe do something. Your thought process was slowed nearly to nothing as the cowboy fucked you mercilessly with his fingers and tongue.

You were surprised to hear the tall man speak suddenly, the sound all but snapping you from your trance as you continued to stare with unfocused eyes towards the newcomer.

“He’s askin’ if you’re alright,” the gunslinger said, finally dragging himself from your lower half as if that was the last thing he wanted to do. He sneered, shooting a scathing look towards the interruption, impatient in a way you knew would mean trouble for Ace later. “Reckon you should answer him so we can go about our business.” Here he paused, mischievous glint in his eyes as he tilted his head teasingly at you. “Unless yer lookin’ to give the man a show.”

You mulled this over for a moment, seconds stretching on, not so much entertaining the idea of giving Ace a front row seat to your escapade so much as trying to remember how to string together words to make a coherent thought. “Oh,” you said finally, licking idly at your lips. Right. “I’m…I’m good,” you called, your voice cracking under the strain.

“Just good, huh?” The gunslinger teased. His long, dexterous fingers crept back to their original positions on your flushed skin. “Thinkin’ we can do a little better than just good.”

In the time it took for you to realize what was about to happen, he was on you again, delving forward to press his tongue inside of you once more.

You arched in surprise, sitting completely upright now as opposed to your relaxed, blissed out posture from only a moment ago, your own fingers twitching restlessly against your thighs. You gasped softly, eyes darting towards Ace again to find that his expression had changed entirely, smirk curling his lips now where only concern had been before. He tipped his cap at you, head tilted in a small nod and his grin growing ever broader when you reached up reflexively to tip the cowboy’s hat in return.

And then as quickly as the gambler appeared, he was gone, your attention shifting immediately back to the gunslinger as he pressed his fingers inside you again. You reveled in the delicious stretch, the digits thick and pleasant as he scissored them within you. Your legs shook, twinging muscles threatening to cramp as the gunslinger held them in their current positions, stretched too wide for too long.

Your hand dove to grab the edge of the piano top when his tongue found your clit, circling it first before beginning to lick it, all teasing thrown out the window now as he set to work in earnest.

“Quite the gentleman droppin’ in to check on you,” the cowboy sneered between punishing licks. His eyes cut suddenly towards the window, as if scanning for the other man. He gave a pleased hum to see that the other man had moved along, the noise vibrating deliciously against your skin. “Was wonderin’ when he was gonna make himself known,” the gunslinger grinned. “Been standing there an awful long time just a’watchin’.”

“If it was anyone else, I’d probably have the common sense to be embarrassed,” you gasped, head tipped back now as you lost yourself in the rhythm of his long fingers as they rocked in and out. “Ace…” you continued, breath hitching as the gunslinger picked up his pace. “Ace is Ace.”

“Not a fan of that one,” the cowboy said offhandedly. “Beat me in cards once. He cheats.”

“He’s just lucky.”

“He cheats,” the man said again, firm, the tone brooking no argument. The bottom half of the cowboy’s face was shiny and wet, and you found yourself distracted by his tongue as it slid from between his chapped lips to run his tongue through it.

“Okay,” you said dumbly. “Okay.”

There was the abrupt sound of a generator being completed, a sudden blinding brightness that shone through the windows and had you squinting your eyes.

“Ah,” the gunslinger said. “Reckon that’s my cue to finish this up.”

You nearly arched off the piano top when he dove back in purposefully, all tongue and lips and fingers that plunged in and out, in and out. He pinned you easily as you squirmed, movements becoming increasingly more wild as he continued his merciless assault. You could feel the build up in your lower stomach, nerve endings alight as your body struggled to process the gunslinger’s ministrations.

When had you started panting?

“Maybe if you ask real sweet, I’ll - “

“Please,” you said immediately, the word falling from your lips before he could finish his thought. You weren’t above begging. You were so close now, teetering on the precipice, any bit of hesitancy you had before completely thrown out the window in the wake of your impending orgasm.

You began to plead in earnest, the same word spoken over and over again -please, please, please- so many times now that the word began to lose its meaning.

You were beyond incoherent, you knew, entirely incomprehensible as the cowboy worked you so thoroughly that you could swear you saw stars. “Please,” you begged, desperate in a way that would surely embarrass you later. “Please, please.”

The gunslinger said something in his gravelly voice, his tone distinctly pleased but overshadowed by your shameless begging. When his thumb met your clit, you gave a sharp inhale as you were pushed over the edge, less a gentle step into the unknown and more a runaway train careening off the tracks.

Despite the build up, you were entirely unprepared for the orgasm that tore through you. It was all encompassing, intense in a way that you had never experienced. Your entire body shuddered, knees and thighs quaking on either side of the gunslinger’s head, thoroughly overwhelmed. You whined when he continued to lick into you despite the overstimulation, his long fingers still pumping in and out even as you squirmed and twisted.

Then all at once the stimulation was gone and you could breathe again.

The gunslinger began to pull away from you, his voice barely muffled against your skin as he spoke once more. His voice was deep, husky and too low to hear over the blood that still rushed loudly in your own ears.

“What?” You asked, flushed chest still heaving as your head continued to clear. You felt like you were underwater, like you could see the cowboy’s mouth moving but couldn’t make your brain understand what was being said.

The gunslinger straightened, finally returning to his full height as he wiped the slick off his face with one dusty sleeve. He opened his mouth again, a sudden sickening ‘pop’ filling the air as he corrected his crooked jaw. He gave a soft grunt of pain, one hand coming up to cup his face in a way that indicated that this was not an unusual occurrence.

“Said my jaw is hurtin’ like a sonuvabitch,” he repeated, grimacing as he shifted his jaw from one side and then the other as if trying to keep it from becoming stiff again. “I’ll be damned if you didn’t make it worth my while, though.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, overtly aware of the awkwardness as it began to seep back into the situation without his hands and mouth to occupy you.

You made a small noise of surprise when he grabbed you around your waist suddenly, lifting you from the piano and setting you down as easily as he had lifted you in the first place. Your legs felt wobbly underneath you, unsteady, a feeling you tried to brush away as you smoothed your skirt back into a position you deemed acceptable.

The gunslinger watched the movement of your skirt with rapt attention, much in the same way he’d watched it earlier when you were trying to tempt him.

”Nothin’ left to do but leave,” the tall man said idly. That strange glint had returned to his eyes, any warmth fading as he reached behind you for his weapon. “Reckon you oughta head out as soon as those gates are open if you want to make it out in one piece.”

Uh oh.

“Go on now,” he grinned, all teeth, unkind and dangerous in a way that sent a chill down your spine. He stepped into your space, standing nearly two heads taller than you as he plucked his hat from your head. “Trust me when I say you don’t wanna test me.”

You yelped when he delivered a sudden sharp slap to your rear, the contact finally spurning you into action. You stumbled down the saloon stairs and back onto the dusty street, one arm coming up to block the too-bright light as your eyes struggled to adjust.

Behind you, the gunslinger laughed, raspy and low. “Find me in the fog any time, girlie.”

You shot one last glance over your shoulder as you hurried along, making your way quickly towards the nearest gate as it loomed heavy and industrial at the end of the street.

In the distance you heard a scream, ear piercing and guttural. You sucked in a breath, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other as if debating what to do, the cowboy’s words from earlier echoing suddenly in your head.

‘Reckon you oughta head out as soon as those gates are open if you want to make it out in one piece.’

In the distance another scream rang out, echoing across the prairie.

You didn’t stick around to hear a third.

#anyway how do i tag this??#this is like 12 pages on google docs good lord #caleb quinn x reader #i guess?#dead by daylight #does anyone even want to fuck this guy? like is this too niche?#roswell writes

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