#proud cannibal enthusiast

[bloodandgoreaddict]

Ritualistic cannibalism , survival cannibalism, metaphorical cannibalism , but might I suggest (if it's not a thing already) cannibalistic voyeurism . I just love the thought of someone beautiful eating human flesh and drinking their blood while I sit across from them and watch in awe and then rewarding them after so they associate blood with pleasure

[touyaz]

why's it always isagi talking about devouring people. when will it be bachira's turn. When will I get to see him sink his teeth into someone and lick their blood from his wrist and chew--

[kookieswan]

Red Light - Silent Smile

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, Angst, some Fluff though too. Kind of.

Warnings: Yoongi. Technically talk of cannibalism, death, mentions of blood/bodily fluid. MC is injured but not too seriously. It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: Nothing can ever go your way. All you wanted was a calm morning and instead your office door got ripped off its hinges.

Notes: Back at it! I hope you all enjoy. This takes a good few days after Tea and Crumpets, it might be beneficial to go reread as much as you can heh.

This is Part 29 of the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️

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There’s a rapt knock on your door, arrogantly enough to draw you away from the paperwork you’ve been diligently doing for your… Superiors. Usually a distraction would be welcome, but in this case you know it’s no one you care to see. Letting out a quiet sigh, you fold your hands and call out regretfully for whoever to enter.

“Yes, come in!” The door opens promptly and in steps Williams… Along with another man you’ve never seen before. He’s taller, younger, and his smile is bright enough to blind you. Perhaps an aspiring new hire? Certainly no one with experience down here, no. The excitement is far too displaced. Williams marches straight up to your desk with the man, eyes wide as he gazes down at you.

“Good morning Dr._____.” You murmur a good morning back, bringing your cold coffee up to your lips for a sip. Honestly, you have so much work to do and such a tight schedule to do so. Playing Williams silly little games is always a nuisance, especially since he’s the one piling on the work. He tilts his head to the side toward the new man, an odd little smile on his face. It repulses you ever so slightly.

“I’d like to introduce you to Doctor Freeman. He transferred from this facility to another, but has decided to return after Andrews’… Unfortunate passing.” You nearly laugh out loud, something you’ll certainly have to reflect on later. Freeman extends his hand outward to you, and you shake it mindlessly. His grip is firm, nearly too tight as his hand engulfs yours.

“Dr. _____, I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” His smile has been turning sharper by the second, eyes carefully hiding something away as they remain blank. It’s happening slowly, but with each passing minute you like him less and less. Clearing your throat, you manage to plaster on a fake smile.

“It’s nice to meet you as well. I’ll take it you’ll be filling Andrews’ position then?” He nods his head as Williams looks… Proud? Smug? You’re not quite sure. Is it possible you know this man? No, you’ve never seen him before, you’d remember the dumb way his head bobs as he nods enthusiastically.

“Correct! I’m excited to be stepping into my old shoes and taking off. I’d also like to work closely with you given the chance.” He steps impossibly closer and you feel the need to sink through the walls. There’s a sudden bang down the hall, the men ignoring it as you peer toward the door. Choosing to ignore it as well, you decidr to address the odd man.

“Closely with me…?” He hums as the banging continues, and you swear you hear a gunshot in the distance and… Screaming…? Perhaps it’s nothing to worry about. Perhaps it’s everything to worry about. The only thing you can currently worry about though is the way Freeman’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“Yes; I didn’t study psychology much during my schooling days but I find it quite… Interesting.” Interest is fine but his interest unsettles you wholeheartedly. Tapping your pen against the table a few times, the banging becomes louder steadily, and then stops. The three of you look toward the door, both men flinching as the loudest boom yet echoes from somewhere down the hall. You can’t even describe it; like some sort of guttural scream mixed with metal being torn.

“What was that sound…?” And then comes the screaming. The desperations echoes its way down the hall, the voices frantic enough to make you uneasy. It’s pretty clear what’s going on, but Williams just clears his throat and shrugs his shoulders like it’s nothing to worry about.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. Now, I wanted to ask you about that paperwork-“ He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before your door is ripped of its hinges and thrown into the wall, a blur flying through the room and onto Freeman. You catch a flash of silvery hair as both bodies fall to the ground and oh.

Oh. Oh no.

“Yoongi! Yoongi, hey, come on-“ You’re up and around your desk in seconds, torn between keeping your distance and trying to calm the obviously very pissed off Nightmare. It’s a fifty-fifty toss up between him going on a killing spree and coming down from his blood-lust, but you’ve got to try something. You slowly step closer, Williams distractedly taking something out of his pocket and paying no kind. There’s a rattle and so you glance up, and not one, but three of the frames on your wall fall to the floor in a crash as not a single soul disrupts them. It can’t just be a coincidence..,

Looking back quickly to Williams, you gape as pulls out a taser of all things, the oversized object clearly trying to make up for something. Stepping between him and Yoongi, eyes blazing as the Nightmare continues to snarl down at the newest Doctor with malice. Williams tries to sidestep you, but you continue to use your body as a sort of wall between them. It’s shocking that none of these absolute morons have figured out how to deescalate a situation like this. What does he think he’s going to do? Taze him and not die horribly?

“Do not.” He scoffs but turns his back, clearly not willing to risk his own precious life. It’s curious though; it’s more than he ever would have done for Andrews… Turning back and taking a step forward, you stand directly behind the Nightmare, hovering with an outstretched hand as he drags the other man off the floor. Something else moves around in the corner of your eye, crashing to the floor yet again. Still, you don’t pay mind.

“I’ll fucking rip you apart. Skin you alive, gouge your eyes out and eat your insides for a fucking snack and string the rest up on the walls. Would you like that?” He snarls his words darkly, spit flying as he chokes out Freeman. The doctor is starting to turn a shade of purple, his head cracking against the wall as Yoongi shoves him into it again. You can only begin to guess what he’s done to make Yoongi so angry in such a short amount of time. How long has he even been here?

“Please, Yoongi,-“ Finally touching his shoulder lightly, you try not to gasp in pain as a hand shoots out to grip your wrist violently. He drops the man and turns toward you, likely ready to kill, but thankfully gives pause. He stares, and you stare back quietly, eyes gentle and trying desperately to convey that it’s okay. That he’s okay.

Fully taking in his appearance, it’s obvious he’s already caused some sort of chaos. He’s covered in blood, splashes of it littering his face, some of it smudged as if he tried to rub it away. His pupils are blown, nostrils flared, but otherwise he looks like himself. Blood drips off his hand and onto your jacket, staining the perfect white a crimson red, but you don’t falter.

After comprehending just whose wrist he’s about to snap, a litany of emotions wash over his face before he settles on something grim. He looks anywhere but at you, his hand loosening and letting go slowly. Not thinking much about it, you grab his hand as he tries to draw away, his eyes snapping up towered yours, the shock there evident.

“I-Doctor I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.” It’s quiet. It’s apologetic. Hell, it even sounds a little desperate. You wish he could tell how important all of them have become to you, that you know that they’re people too, that they matter. You nod your head, tightening your hand ever so slightly to try and sooth any remnants of his anger as pain twinges up your wrist.

“It’s okay, it’s alright. You didn’t mean to, I know that.” He continues to nod, composure growing slightly more anxious as he hunches into himself. You understand; vulnerability in front of these assholes isn’t something he desires, and so you try not to lean into that. But, you do need to get him out of here, and quickly.

“I need you to listen to me though, okay? You’ve got to come with me so we can get you washed up.” Looking him directly in the eye, you try to tell him. Try to tell him he’ll go down there, try to tell him that you don’t want that. You don’t want him to be tortured, you don’t want him to lose himself. You don’t want him to rot.

There’s a sudden rustling of clothing, a groan from the sad mess on the floor. Yoongi lashes out relatively often but there’s always a reason. Always. So, you’re sure Freeman’s broken face is somehow justified, especially as he starts to speak.

“No, I’ve missed 061309 quite a bit. I would love for him to join us down below instead after an episode like that.” Freeman’s voice is raspy, gross, absolutely grating on your poor ears as he cuts in. Glancing down toward the floor, you try not to giggle at the poor excuse of a blob laying there. You knew you were right about him. You knew, and you’d like to know more. You’ll have to speak to Hoseok on the matter; it’s been too long away no anyway.

“Well Doctor Freeman, I don’t really care what you would love. He’s my patient, he’s staying on this floor and he’s taking a nice hot shower. Also, I would appreciate if one of you would call to have my door fixed.” Taking the Nightmare by the arm, you start to drag him toward the door unceremoniously. There’s a shuffle as Freeman stands up, his whole body covered in grime.

“I wasn’t done talking to you.” It’s hard to take him seriously with his eye nearly swollen shut, and so you don’t. Not even turning back fully to acknowledge him, you finally enter the hallway with Yoongi on your heels. He doesn’t try to run or cause chaos, apparently having no issue with following you. You’re glad he’s in his right mind to understand the consequences of doing so.

“And I was quite done talking to you. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” Ignoring that you’re leaving those two alone in your office, you lead Yoongi down the hall, dead set on getting him cleaned up. You know he doesn’t like the mess when things die down, when he has time to calm, and something tells you he wasn’t very excited about this particular massacre.

“I didn’t mean to.” It’s quiet as he whispers it out, the almost desperate tone coming back. Stopping in the middle of the hall abruptly, you turn him toward you slowly. He won’t look you in the eye, staring past you but not with a hint of malice. Keeping your hands on his arms, you allow your voice to be the gentlest it’s ever been with him; with any of them.

“I know Yoongi. There’s really nothing to apologize for, though I do appreciate the gesture immensely. I can tell you’re not fond of Freeman so lashing out isn’t an uncalled for response.” You think that perhaps mentioning Freeman wasn’t a good idea as Yoongi’s face morphs in disgust. He takes deep breaths, clearly trying to control himself but not altogether able to.

“He’s disgusting. He should rot. I should have slaughter-“ Before he can fully fall into his anger again, there’s a soft call of ‘Yoongi’ from the other end of the hall. Glancing that way, you spot Jungkook standing there and looking immensely worried, still in civilian clothes and not his usual uniform. Once he catches your eyes, he starts to jog over.

“What happened? Are you okay?” The man actually grabs Yoongi’s jaw without hesitation, softly turning his face from side to side as if to examine him. You let the Nightmare go, fully allowing for Jungkook to take over the situation. You don’t think he realizes just what a blessing he is in situations like this; the nightmare certainly would have ripped off anyone else’s hands.

“… He’s back Jungkookie. I’m sorry, I almost ripped him apart for you, I wanted to make a pretty picture but-“ Jungkook blinks owlishly, wide eyes lost for a few moments but like a snap, they harden. He doesn’t let go of Yoongi as the man nuzzles into his hands, now likely feeling safe and yet still distressed.

“Freeman is back, huh?” Jungkook directs it at you, and you nod hesitantly at his correct guess. Clearly the man had some sort of reputation around here, and clearly it’s very, very bad. But as much as you’d like ask more questions, you have to get Yoongi to the showers. Holding a hand out, you gesture that you have to keep going.

“Ah, yeah, hold on. Come on Yoon, we gotta get you cleaned up. That’s a lot of blood ba-“ He cuts off, clearing his throat as he drops his hands from the Nightmares face. Yoongi whines, whines, and grabs the other man’s hands, gripping it tightly as Jungkook starts to tug him along. You hide your silent smile well.

“Jungkook, I trust you can take care of this yourself…? I have some matters to attend to. If any issues arise please come directly to me and I’ll handle them accordingly.” You give he man a knowing look, taking a few steps back to take your leave. After your little talk with Dr. Kim a few days back, you know it’s in your best interest to check in. Jungkook looks torn for a second but gives as Yoongi practically shoves his face into his neck.

“Yeah I got this, but. Uh… I think you and I need to talk. Later?” You give a curt affirmation that that’s fine because really, you want to know what’s got one of your Nightmares in such a tizzy. So much to do, so little time… Hopefully Hoseok is faring better. You have more than a few questions for him now.

“Yes, later. Be safe you two.”

[psychoticwillgraham]

overdue ass info post about me

i’m Will and im 28, and my gender is nothing that is comprehensible to humanity. very androgynous and obnoxious about it, drag king for 7 years now in a ass backwards conservative tourist trap river town in Missouri. my sexuality is. who the fuck knows honestly. super amateur artist and new Warframe enthusiast.

any pronouns EXCEPT for she/her, but I prefer it/its, but if that’s not accessible to u bc of language or w/e, they or he is just fine. aromantic as fuck, and ace, but still have a high ish libido sometimes despite all the damn psych meds im on.

i have an unknown psychotic disorder, but my mental health team just slaps the schizoaffective label on me as well as BPD, autism (not officially dxed on paper, but verbally by both my psych and therapist), PTSD, suspected OCPD, and according to my therapist, a ‘cocktail of features from every personality disorder that makes it impossible to properly diagnose’ me. undiagnosed system too.

standard DNI applies, like no conservatives/right wingers, anything like that.

horny on main and not ashamed of it, constantly posting about how i want to fuck Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham, yknow, my little gay cannibals. proud old man fucker.

Ships I’ll write (for the egos I’ll pretty much write everything) for requests

Hannigram (my main one)

Darkstache (Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache)

Danti (Darkiplier/Antisepticeye)

Klaine (Glee, but I’ll only do horror/scifi/supernatural stuff bc nobody else does and I’m sick of the love dovey boring shit)

John Constantine/Will Graham (the one i invented)

pretty much any combo of markiplier and jacksepticeye egos

specifically Henrik Von Schneeplestein/Chase Brody

Murdock/Bim or any combo of the murderous egos from both of them

Murdock in general

any crackship between any of these characters (like Dark/Hannibal)

and if u send me a request I’ll try to have it done within a day depending on what time u send it and if I’m busy, but I WILL get around to it, I promise!! also will do anything from rated G to Explicit and nearly every kind of kink except for the following: underage (for klaine I’ll only do from the NYC days), zoo, scat, watersports, incest (and this all for the vast majority of normal kinks, might do weird ones if I vibe with them), and whatever else I decide to add to this

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[red-doll-face]

I just found your blog and I LOVE IT.

If I might ask: What’s your saddest dbd headcanons (killers or survivors)

Call me crazy, but I must know! ❤️

Ohh this one was a good one but it hurt me so badddd, ahhh. I’m glad to share , I have some bad dbd brain rot lmaooo I didn’t do every character so I hope these are ok 🥺 these are a bit long too

Sad Dead by Daylight Hcs

Claudette Morel:

Claudette is one of the criers. Probably cries while getting mori’d and can't help the tears during the really bad matches. Her pain tolerance isn’t very high, hence the willingness to waste time healing herself if it means she can stop being in so much pain.

Meg Thomas:

Spends time alone thinking about her past life. Her mother is a subject that makes her really frustrated. People mentioning their moms makes her a little standoffish. Wishes she had a chance to say goodbye in some way.

Ace Visconti:

Ace doesn't have much family to even miss him. He wonders if they noticed he’s gone or hasn’t come back. Maybe they think he hit big bucks and left them behind. Ace is stuck really. Even if he were to go back, he’d be dead or working off his debt.

Feng Min:

Gets super mad when she loses, it makes her so angry that she doesn’t control the trials. She blames other people for her losses but actually is very critical of herself. Casts the blame on others so she doesn't have to face her own mistakes.

David King:

All of his perks are about putting his ass on the line for his teammates yet everyone seems to think he’s selfish and a dumb brute. David doesn't know what to do to be more approachable; genuinely wants to be seen as a friend.

Laurie Strode:

Laurie never got the chance to mourn her friends. She thought she won. Finding out she’ll never truly escape Michael or be able to forget him makes her so mad. When she gets Michael in trials she makes sure the glass in her pocket is extra jagged and serrated.

Jane Romero:

Jane only wanted recognition and acknowledgement. Everything she's worked so hard for feels like a waste for her now. She should have spent more time on herself or with her father. Jane feels like she has no purpose anymore besides running and screaming for the enjoyment of the entity.

Yui Kimura:

Yui can’t stand the Clown or the Stealth Killers. Reminds her of bad memories. When she loses against killers like ghostface, she is especially angry.Her fighting spirit can’t help her actually get back at them.

Zarina Kassir:

Spent so much time fighting inequality only to spend the rest of her life where the odds are never in favor of the survivors. Where the oppressed are destined to lose. Each one of the people is subjugated, both killer and survivor and there's nothing she can do to free them.

Cheryl Mason:

She's been through literal hell and back just to end up in a weird recurring nightmare. At least Silent Hill had an escape. She's killed a god and somehow someone her size with a boxcutter can kill her? Huh.

Élodie Rakoto:

Feels guilty over the loss of her parents and feels extremely disillusioned by this realm. It's so much more boring than she thought it would be. All of her searching and traveling was not worth this shithole.

Steve Harrington:

Steve, though 18, is very much still a kid. Steve is naive about certain things and his optimism gets chipped away at a lot. Wasn’t too enthusiastic at having to care or look after Dustin and his friends but misses having people to protect.

Jeff Johannson:

Someone who definitely ends up taking hooks for people and ends up dying. Has a reputation among the killers as a survivor who is easy to leverage during the endgame because he will try for that save.

Kate Denson:

Feels very lucky to even have her guitar. The other survivors didn't get to bring many things with them. Makes her feel a little bad when she Often feels too worn out and exhausted by the trials to play it.

Quentin Smith:

Unfortunately stuck in pseudo-hell with his abuser. Gets really anxious against Freddy. Leans on his fellow survivors. Will sometimes accidentally bring Freddy to others in an attempt to get Freddy the hell away for him.

Evan ‘The Trapper’ Macmillan:

Actually has tried on numerous occasions to remove the metal rods and shrapnel embedded in his skin. It hurts like hell and just when he thinks he’s got it, he loses grip. These attempts never work.

Philip ‘The Wraith’ Ojomo:

When he’s alone, Philip will try and talk to himself. His vocal cords are warped, his voice a scratchy growl and garbled gurgle. He remembers what he used to sound like but he tries talking less and less.

Max ‘The Hillbilly’ Thompson Jr.:

Besides being named after someone who locked him away for most of his life? Max has to rest a lot between trials. The constant movement puts strain on him and causes him dull pain. His back causes him a lot of grief. The Entity is barely merciful.

Michael ‘The Shape’ Myers:

Meant to be forgotten by everyone who ever knew of him and he knows it. Loomis, after deciding that Michael couldn't be ‘fixed’ just hoped that the system would swallow him. If it weren't for the entity, Michael knows he'd either be dead or caught and back with Loomis.

Bubba ‘The Cannibal’ Sawyer:

Used to be one of the nicer killers to go against and might have been sweet to certain survivors who deserved kindness. But the Entity punished him for it. Bubba isn't very nice anymore. Probably a little meaner to avoid being in trouble again.

Amanda ‘The Pig’ Young:

Another one down to give second chances, much like the second chance she saw in John Kramer. Doesn’t do this a lot however, therefore escaping the ire of the Entity. She’s spent a lifetime hurting others emotionally and physically. Now, she’ll spend an eternity.

Rin ‘The Spirit’ Yamaoka:

The pain and anguish is so heavy but time is no cure in a place where time is nonexistent. No happiness to replace her rage. Especially in a place where her anger is a weapon for a greater power. Also has tried to pull the glass out of her skin and press her limbs back together. Can’t stand to see herself in the mirror.

Adiris ‘The Plague’:

Her body is always on the precipice of falling apart. Her skin rots; her flesh aches and feels like it will tear away at any moment. She is immortalized yet so close to death. Her body hurts so much but she has a purpose to serve. (makes me even sadder bc jannneeeee my mainnnnn😔)

Kazan ‘The Oni’ Yamaoka:

Misses his son. Never got to see him grow up, considering he;s already met his descendant. Proud from a distance because that's all he can be. The beginning of something so angry that it passes down his family line.

Caleb ‘The Deathslinger’ Quinn

During his life, was under the control of people who made him work for their gain who used him. The Entity emphasizes the killers as a position of power but Caleb does much of the same here. Works and works. Never for himself.

Pyramid Head ‘The Executioner’:

His existence has always included pain. He’s not quite sure what it’s like without it. He’s made several efforts to take the pyramid off. It pulls painfully at his neck. Makes awful groaning noises and roars.

Ji-Woon ‘The Trickster’ Hak:

Has never been much more than entertainment for other people since he was a child. Never expected to be much more. To the point that now, if he doesn't feel impressive in some way, he feels incomplete. The entity is his way to really indulge his ‘true artistry’.

Yun-Jin Lee:

A bit selfish when it comes to surviving. A few people around the campfire dont like her for that reason. Some of the meaner people will even leave her behind because they remember all of the times Yun-Jin might have done something similar.

Thanks for reading!!! I’m sorry I don’t post often but I have Shit ton of hw and I recently started a new project sooo ya know 💖💖💖

[anansis-records-of-stories]

Practice Scene: Zane and Ravage talk about why she sticks around (unedited)

Prompt: Link, prompt is in bold,

Wordcount: 1142 words

Thank you, for the nice prompt @givethispromptatry

Deciding it was time for some fresh air, Zane stepped outside. Ravage followed him with a slightly perturbed look in her eye. He could sense what she wanted to talk about, but wasn’t going to be the one to initiate.

After a moment of watching the cars pass by, she spoke, her tone reflective. “People say I’m crazy.”

Zane blinked, not expecting those to be the first words she spoke. “Well, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “but it’s still rude to say out loud! That’s an inside thought not an outside thought.” Ravage scratched her head in frustration, seemingly annoyed.

Zane watched her, considering that he might not have known Ravage as much as he thought he did. Taking a sip of his beer, he wondered how to respond. “Does it really bother you?”

“Of course not.” Her response was rather quick, making it hard for anyone to believe her, but Zane had grown accustomed to her company and knew she was telling the truth rather than lying. Nonetheless, it was a rare chance for Zane to get to know more about her. Ravage was a brand of crazy that made it difficult to take her seriously if she wasn't currently attempting to eat your face.

“So you don’t care that people are afraid of you? I mean, the only name I know you by is Ravage and there’s rumors that you’re a cannibal. Can you really blame them?” Zane asked.

“No, I don’t. It’s my name and the rumors are all true, so their fears are justified. I could care less if people fear me, I care more about those same people not respecting me.” Ravage popped her knuckles, a sharp smile drawing itself upon her face. Unlike most people, Ravage had nearly full control over her anatomy, so she could make it so that she could pop her knuckles multiple times. It was both interesting to notice, but disgusting to hear.

Zare sighed inwardly, unsure what to expect. Ravage wasn’t the type of person to claim to have altruistic thoughts. She cares about herself and only for herself, which is evident in her philosophy that he who holds the most power, holds the most freedom. Zane had never seen her do it, but he believed the rumors. Ravage had killed people and had eaten them too. There was an animalistic hunger always lurking behind the friendliness of her eyes, urging her to find her next suitable meal. It was a wonder she hadn’t turned on them already.

“And besides,” Ravage began, placing her hands in her pockets. “Why dwell on the fears of the weak? I’m more interested in what people like me think and believe.” Both of them glanced at one another, though Zane was perhaps a little more sheepish.

“What do you mean by the same?” Zane inquired, a part of him still desiring to understand her better. They weren’t friends and Zane didn’t like the idea of calling her a comrade either.”

“Well, I don’t mean literally. I doubt there’s anyone like me,” She joked, proud of the fact. “But what I mean by the same is that they hold a primary cause or belief I relate with.”

Zane considers her words. “And you think you’ve found that in us.” Ravage nodded her head enthusiastically. “I highly doubt anyone of us are-”

“I didn’t say we had been cut from the same cloth. I was raised in the streets, with nothing but the next person's filth and insecurities to keep me going, you grew up in a loving home with a family and friends who care. I’m well aware that we’re not the same, but you’re searching for something like me, you especially, that I like in people.”

“And what do you think that is?” Zane asked, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.

“Power, Zane.” Ravage smiled and showed off her row of shark teeth.

Zane clenched his near perfect jawline and stared at Ravage through ruby red eyes. “Then you must not know me as well as you think.”

Ravage closed her eyes, smiling a feline smile with scared lips, and inclined her head. “There are different types of power, just as there are reasons behind why we seek it. I don’t care about the reasons. I simply care that others are searching for it.”

“And why do you think that is my reason for seeking power?”

“The same as most people. You fall into the category of seeking power to protect. That’s as good of a reason as any, but I’m more interested in seeking to obtain it.” Her lips upturned into a primal smile that showed her dangerous fangs. The spark in her eyes, that Zane had come to recognize within her passion, had come back and like always it made him uneasy, especially when coupled with her words.

He wanted to refute what she said, but couldn’t find it in himself to do so. Maybe because she was right, or perhaps there was a bit of fear when conversing with her. Zane didn’t like to share his beliefs with others and this was a moment where if bit back against her, then she could easily escalate the situation. More so, he was worried about what she said. Who would he become once he obtained the power to protect the ones he loved.

“To answer your question, the one you didn’t yet ask, that’s why I stick around. You want me to play the hero. I’ll play the hero. You want me to stop eating people, well you can’t stop even if you banded together, and what you don’t know won’t kill you, and if you want to point me at your enemies, I’m all here for the slaughter. I just want to wait and see, between you, your friend sparks, and the Vampiress, inside, who will crack first and how.” Zane flinched as she cackled out loud drawing the attention of others around her, as if she were the only one who knew the punchline to the joke.

Zane came to another realization in that moment, that there are people who can only see others as a source of entertainment. Their own live action movie that they themselves get to play a role in. It was terrifying to recognize, not because Zane considered it to be amoral, but because he couldn't’ deny her. There was something inside of him that wouldn't let him reject what she was saying, much in a similar way and how he related to Luna. There was truth to her words, the truth that he was either not ready to understand or was simply not a truth native to him. Nevertheless, it terrified him.

“You are not how I’d thought you’d be.” Zane confessed.

“I'd hope not. I try to be a walking contradiction, which helps when I tend to receive the memories and powers of the people I eat." Ravage smiled to herself. “It makes the process a whole lot easier.”

[bibliosophist]

⏰🗑🏅💕

⏰ What time of day do you prefer to write? At night, preferably after my partner has already gone to sleep. I need to be alone. It's the only time I can really write, which is one of the reasons I'm so behind. 🗑 What is one fic idea that you loved at first but then scrapped? Wayyyy back in the day I was writing an HP AU fic where Harry and Hermione ended up together. It never went very far. There were a couple good scenes that I may cannibalize for something else someday, so it wasn't a total waste. 🏅 What is the fic you’re most proud of? I actually really like that one drabble I wrote where Beel told MC he thought they were beautiful after a night of hanging out with them and his brothers. 💕 What is the WIP that you are most excited about? Botany Enthusiast!MC and Lucifer. It's on the back burner until I finish the Beel and Diavolo fics.

Thanks for the ask my darling friend. ❤️❤️❤️

[the-raven-of-highever]

Traits tag game

Got tagged by @cyrraluu​ Thanks so much!

I’ll give some no preasure tags to @palepinkycat, @mimabeann and @joystick-enthusiast​

RULES: bold what always or almost always applies, italicize occasional or situational.

Lara Cousland

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted (slaughter of her family hit her hard) | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating| irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

[iceeckos12]

a study of hands

thinking about jon’s burned hand. warning for graphic discussion of burn/burn scars.

edit: had to remake this post since i accidentally deleted the read more when i was editing it a;slkdfal;skdjf

Georgie isn’t there when Jon gets home.

Small mercies, he thinks hysterically, distantly, squeezing his wrist. His right hand doesn’t feel like a hand, doesn’t feel like skin layered on sinew and meat and muscle layered on bone. It feels like someone stuck a ball of agony, a ball of pain so incandescent that it transcends his comprehension, on the end of his arm. He doesn’t dare look at it. Just the smell is enough to make him feel sick.

He staggers into the bathroom and fumbles with the tap, turning the water on as cold as it will go. He doesn’t have the strength to get ice cubes from the freezer, even though he knows that it will help. (He’s not sure how he knows that it will help, but some part of his brain is screaming don’t cover it, that will trap the heat in, put it in ice water and keep it there, but it won’t do much for a third degree burn, you need a skin graft, you—)

He stares at the bottom of the tub for a moment, wondering why it isn’t filling up the way it should. Then he remembers that he needs to plug the drain, because otherwise the water is going to keep swirling away, away, down the plumbing and deep into the earth, like—like—

He twitches his hand. He doesn’t mean to, or maybe he does, he’s not sure, and the pain is so intense that he immediately vomits into the water.

The drain wasn’t plugged, he thinks hysterically. Small mercies.

-

He doesn’t go looking for Mike Crew the next day.

He can’t. Georgie had poked her head in when he woke up, and he’d rasped, “I’m going to have a bit of a lie-in.” And he’d said, “I’m fine, just not feeling well.” And he’d whispered, “Don’t worry about me, just...just—don’t worry about me.”

His whole body feels like it’s been lit aflame, like he’s on the shore of a burning sea that keeps lapping in and out, in and out. The waves keep crashing in and out, in and out, breathtaking and exhausting.

The burn, when he can finally bring himself to look at it, is ugly, even worse than the worm scars. Blackened and charred around the edges, red and mottled in the deepest parts. An actual, literal brand in the form of a handshake. He wonders if, whenever he shakes someone’s hand, their fingers will slot neatly into the confines of the scar.

Come on. It won’t hurt.

He chokes on a sob and rides the agony into oblivion.

-

Jon used to have pretty handwriting.

He knows that’s a weird thing for a boy to have. It was just another thing that they used to make fun of him for in school, but he used to be defiantly proud of it. It was something that he worked for. He used to open calligraphy books and copy each painstaking letter onto the paper, his tongue poking out from between his teeth, until they looked just right, every time.

He’s not sure why he cherished it so much. Possibly because he had so little to be proud of when he was young. He was stubborn and a know-it-all and difficult, but at the very least he had gorgeous handwriting. His classmates used to pay him to write love letters.

It’s not something that he thinks about until he gets back from that whole debacle with Mike Crew and Daisy and Elias—and reaches for a pen. His right hand throbs in agony, and his fingers don’t bend quite right, and the pen skitters to the ground and across the floor.

He stares at it numbly for a moment, frozen in place, lips parted. Then his hand throbs, and he sinks into his chair, breathing through the pain, as he’s become used to doing.

He hadn’t thought about—about his fingers not quite bending all the way anymore, about his grip not having the same strength that it used to—

Even after the agony subsides into a low, manageable simmer, he keeps breathing, counting the beats, head bowed over his curled and mangled hand.

-

He uses Institute funds to buy a machine that makes labels for him. In the meantime, he practices with his left hand when he thinks no one else is looking, putting each painstaking letter to paper.

-

He’s been wearing button-ups since his first day at the Magnus Institute.

He remembers wearing a rented suit to his job interview, nervous and fresh-faced and eager to please. Elias had taken one look at him, smiled, and told him to relax, that they were a little more casual around here, that it was fine.

Jon had insisted on the button-ups. He’d turned their care into a bit of a ritual, making sure that each one was starched and ironed, lines crisp and precise. That was how he wanted to be seen: crisp and precise. Qualified.

The execution of that intent had been flawed, though. He had sabotaged himself by shutting his eyes to the truth of the supernatural, and it had eventually turned against him.

He looks at his many shirts now, and all he can feel is dread. Each button is shaped like misery, the starched fabric sandpaper. He knows without trying that he will be on the floor, breathing through the pain, if he tries to put one of those shirts on.

-

He tries anyway.

-

He wears things to work that he never would have in the past. An open jacket layered over a t-shirt, tucked into the hem of black jeans. A chunky cardigan made of smooth, comfortable fabric over a long, serious skirt. Enormous sweaters that he can bury himself in. Things that are easy to put on, easy to wear.

His skin itches when the others look at him.

-

He thinks that he understands what Elias means about choices now. Regardless of whether or not he wanted to become a monster, the choices he made lead to him becoming one. Regardless of whether or not he wants to be vulnerable, he chooses to do so. 

(The other choice is struggling over the buttons of one of his formal shirts, his hand going more and more clawlike with effort. It doesn’t feel much like a choice at all.)

-

Jon picks up the mug, and Martin lets out a shout of horror and scoops it from his grip.

“Jon, that’s really hot, be careful!” he admonishes. He’d seized the tea roughly, but his grip goes gentle as he carefully lifts Jon’s scarred palm, fingers fluttering over the warped scars. “This is your bad hand, too—does it hurt?”

Jon stares at his hand too, at the still healing skin, at the way the reds bleed into pinks bleed into more red. The scars create deep rents in his skin, almost to the bone in some places. He thinks about monsters and pain and emotions and apathy, and the indistinct lines they create.

“No,” he says honestly. There had been nothing to feel.

-

”You used to plait your hair,” Daisy says.

It’s been quiet for several hours now. Jon thinks that’s the thing he likes best about Daisy: her presence is undemanding now. Not calm, perhaps, but not frenetic or wild, either. Focused. Unconcerned until you give her a reason to be otherwise.

She gets concerned about a lot more than Jon thought she would. Her patient, searching gaze seeks out the exhaustion in his bones, the hungry way his body curls in on itself, increment by increment. She is in stark opposition to the cold and uncaring Eye, who would let Jon cannibalize himself just for a little entertainment.

(She is in stark opposition to herself less than a year ago. A blunted knife, a dulled edge.)

“I did,” Jon concedes.

Daisy waits, because he usually elaborates. It’s about choices, though. Choices are something that he’s thought about a lot in the past few months, especially after his coma, especially after the Buried. He wants to tell Daisy, but he doesn’t want to feel as though he was guided into it.

It’s ridiculous. It’s—he knows that it’s silly. Nonverbal cues are a language that he had to learn, so he should respond. But—he wants to be asked.

After a beat, she asks, “Why don’t you anymore?”

Jon lets out a gusty sigh and raises his right hand so she can see the twisting, ropey mess. He concentrates hard, pressing his lips together as he closes it as far as he can, shaking the whole time.

Daisy sighs, a sound sympathetic to his own.

Jon lowers his right hand again, letting it rest on its side, half curled.

“I could do it for you,” she says.

Jon hesitates for a second—

(Georgie was the person who taught him how to plait his hair. His gran had always cut it short herself, insisting that this was easiest and it saved money anyway, even though Jon had always wanted to grow it out. By the time he met Georgie, his hair was loose around his ears, and he had no idea how to take care of it.

A year after they met, Georgie drunkenly tripped over the couch and told him that she was going to plait his hair. She’d tried to do something difficult, too difficult for her inebriated state, before dragging Jon into a clumsy, playful kiss. He’d responded enthusiastically, but in the back of his mind, he remembered the tug, the sensation of twisting strands, and it had felt good.

She’d done it for him for almost two years. She’d force him to sit on the floor while she sat on the couch, and then she’d bodily drag him as close as possible before turning his ever-growing hair into something beautiful and complicated. Just like you, she’d told him, half-serious.

One day, she’d laid her hands over his and said, “Let me show you how, for when I’m not here.”)

—before nodding, and forces himself to remain very still as Daisy gets to her feet and approaches him from behind.

In the Buried, Daisy’s hand had been small and tight. He hadn’t been able to feel the warmth of it, or the minute scars pricking her skin. He’d gripped back as tightly as his burned hand could, which he’s sure wasn’t very tight at all. There’s a lesson in that, too, but it’s more specific. Intent and execution.

Daisy’s thumb had carefully rubbed the edges of the scars, touching patterns in the divots in his hand. Her hand had fit kindly.

Jon shivers at the first gentle touch in his long tresses. He thinks about the duality of knives and let’s go through the voicebox, and about gentle understanding in the crushing sensation of the Buried. Execution, with nebulous, incomprehensible intent.

-

Martin holds Jon’s hands in his and looks at them like they’re beautiful.

Jon’s still getting used to that. The soft, fond way Martin’s eyes alight on him when he’s barefoot in the kitchen. The teasing grin when Jon glares mockingly across the space between them. The exasperation whenever Jon skips a meal or stays up until the darkest hours of the night.

He wants to be with Martin and he chooses to be with Martin. His intent is synonymous with its execution.

He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. He takes long walks in the burgeoning light of dawn, the hem of his skirt getting soaked in the morning dew. He retreats into himself when his leg and his hand and his everything are all screaming at him in tandem, a symphony of past and current aches.

Martin always welcomes him home. Martin’s gaze is that of the dawning sun, soft and radiant. He tucks Jon’s fingers over his and sweetly kisses each scarred knuckle, reverent, like he’s holding something precious.

Jon learns by example. When Martin wakes in the middle of the night, his eyes distant and hazy, Jon clumsily turns up Martin’s hand and presses his lips against the warm, smooth palm. When the fog rolls in around them, Jon carefully holds Martin’s face between his hands (one half-curled, the other firm and steadying) and leans their foreheads together.

[merry-harlowe]

Negative oc traits game that @heartbrreak tagged me in!! (Thank youuu) I’m Rules: Bold for applies, italics for sometimes applies. Im gonna tag uh @little-bi-kingtrashmouth @mabari-enthusiast @kirkwallgremlin and anyone else who wants to!

Lewis Becker

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | | greedy | | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

Ozzy Greene

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

[otpcutie]

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

I appreciate the distraction, tysm! 🧚🏻💚

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

There is something that annoys me, how I used dashes differently (en vs em) in old fics😂

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

I’m indifferent unless the person asking was kinky friendly, because then I’d be comfy saying I write kink dynamics (vs just saying I write fanfic) and talking about them generally—I never share my works outside of my fandom spaces, I prefer keeping diff parts of my life seperate🧚🏻

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

My moodboards help a lot and I keep notes for my WIPs🙏🏻 But I do tend to steer clear of writing longer fics bc I can get overwhelmed by my many ideas and notes, so getting into them is difficult (I think MMY was an exception bc I barely kept notes, posted as I went and it had very little in the way of plot/mostly established dynamic)🤪

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

I’m unsure if it qualifies as ‘obscure’ but I do have life experiences that have helped how I write, like my own kink/polyam experience, being Queer, asexual/aromantic and a Relationship Anarchist💘

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

Now I’m wishing I kept a doc of that sort of thing for myself aH, maybe I will in the future! My memory sucks but I picked my last little!Tony fic (bc I have another I wanna finish) and read it. I love little Tony😌

From (Gummy Bear) Cannibalism:

Steve gasped, rubbing it and moving up to kiss his nose sweetly, “Not true, Daddies are tummy whisperers.”

Tony loved when his Daddy was silly like that, he always knew what to say and it felt so good—being taken care of and being able to just be little.

“What else does it say?” Tony couldn’t not ask, even more curious when he was feeling little.

Without missing a beat Steve replied, “It says that there’s pretty good odds of my gummy bear getting up now if I bribe him with being allowed some of those later.”

Tony's eyes sparkled mischievously and he teased, “Cannibalism.”

Get to know your author

[willowsblood]

Character Weaknesses and Strengths!

Tagged by @vidkid20ssimblrlair and a long time ago @ultroslovesyou

Everyone wanted to see Chester in his pool with his peanut butter :)

Rules: Bold traits that apply always. Bold Italicize occasional or situational traits.

Weaknesses

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | manipulative | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

Strengths

adaptable | adventurous | affectionate | ambitious | artistic | athletic | assertive | beautiful | brave | charming | clever | compassionate | confident | considerate | cooperative | courteous | creative | curious | decisive | dependable | determined | diplomatic | easy-going | enthusiastic | fair | fashionable | forgiving | friendly | fun-loving | funny | generous | gentle | hard-working | heroic | honest | hopeful | humble |  imaginative | incorruptible | intelligent | intuitive | inventive | jocular | leader | lively | loving | loyal | merciful | musical | observant | open-minded | optimistic | organized | outgoing | passionate | patient | playful | polite | popular | practical | resourceful | self-assured | selfless | sensible | sincere | strong | studious | thoughtful | tough | versatile | warm-hearted | well-intentioned | wise | witty

[cupcakegnome]

Character tag - Narya Lavellan

I was tagged by @midnightdevotions  and @thewynd  thank you so much♥

Rules: bold traits that apply always. italicize occasional or situational traits.

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | manipulative | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

adaptable | adventurous | affectionate | ambitious | artistic | athletic | assertive | beautiful |brave | charming | clever | compassionate | confident | considerate | cooperative | courteous | creative | curious | decisive | dependable | determined | diplomatic | easy-going | enthusiastic |fair | fashionable | forgiving | friendly | fun-loving | funny | generous | gentle | hard-working |heroic | honest | hopeful | humble | imaginative | incorruptible | intelligent | intuitive | inventive | jocular | leader | lively | loving | loyal | merciful | musical | observant | open-minded | optimistic | organized | outgoing | passionate | patient | playful | polite | popular | practical | resourceful | self-assured | selfless | sensible | sincere | strong | studious | thoughtful | tough | versatile | warm-hearted | well-intentioned | wise | witty I

so there was a lot of positive things since she is just sweet and kind. 

[vampireacademysims]

Character Memes

I got tagged by @thepathofnevermore​ and @blackswan-sims​. I decided to use the memes on Rose and Lissa. Now, these are only my headcanons - since they are not my characters - and what *I* think they are like, other fans surely have different opinions and that’s ok.

Negative traits meme

Rules: bold traits that apply always. italicize occasional or situational traits.

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | manipulative | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

  Character Strengths Meme

Rules: bold traits that apply always. italicize occasional or situational traits.

adaptable | adventurous | affectionate | ambitious | artistic | athletic | assertive | beautiful | brave | charming | clever | compassionate | confident | considerate | cooperative | courteous | creative | curious | decisive | dependable | determined | diplomatic | easy-going | enthusiastic | fair | fashionable | forgiving | friendly | fun-loving | funny | generous | gentle | hard-working | heroic | honest | hopeful | humble |  imaginative | incorruptible | intelligent | intuitive | inventive | jocular | leader | lively | loving | loyal | merciful | musical | observant | open-minded | optimistic | organized | outgoing | passionate | patient | playful | polite | popular | practical | resourceful | self-assured | selfless | sensible | sincere | strong | studious | thoughtful | tough | versatile | warm-hearted | well-intentioned | wise | witty

  Negative traits meme

Rules: bold traits that apply always. italicize occasional or situational traits.

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | manipulative | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

  Character Strengths Meme

Rules: bold traits that apply always. italicize occasional or situational traits.

adaptable | adventurous | affectionate | ambitious | artistic | athletic | assertive | beautiful | brave | charming | clever | compassionate | confident | considerate | cooperative | courteous | creative | curious | decisive | dependable | determined | diplomatic | easy-going | enthusiastic | fair | fashionable | forgiving | friendly | fun-loving | funny | generous | gentle | hard-working | heroic | honest | hopeful | humble |  imaginative | incorruptible | intelligent | intuitive | inventive | jocular | leader | lively | loving | loyal | merciful | musical | observant | open-minded | optimistic | organized | outgoing | passionate | patient | playful | polite | popular | practical | resourceful | self-assured | selfless | sensible | sincere | strong | studious | thoughtful | tough | versatile | warm-hearted | well-intentioned | wise | witty I really wanted to make Dimitri too, but since he wasn’t introduced properly yet, I decided not to. I think everyone and their granny has done this, so I tag the people who haven’t XD

[rosenfey]

OCS + NEGATIVE TRAITS

— rules: bold what always or almost always applies, italicize occasional or situational.

tagged by @nordxz, @yennefre and @zephyrcrowthorne, thank you all a lot! 🍑

tagging [if they want to]: @fantasmagoriam, @highoverseer, @falkreathh, @ladyinthebluebox, @lavellane, @denerims, @myrcella, @fensharel, @javviers, @athurmorgan, @arthrmorgann, @hopebliss and everyone else who wants to, just tag me so I can see! 🌼🌼🌼

🦌 DEBORAH FAWKES — far cry 5; lawful good, junior deputy, ex-cult member, an actual sunshine of a person, very kind, very soft, precious, CATS, *apologizes for apologizing like every 5 minutes*, someone hold her please

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

🌺 EVELIN EVANETT — original story; lawful good, medic, archer, flower crown enthusiast, cute dumbass, *handwrites ‘asdfsagashaj ily’ on your birthday card*

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

💀 DEREN “REN” EVANETT — original story; chaotic good, necromancer, smart mouth, edgy thot, eccentric[tm], *talks loudly about demons in a local diner*, *calls you a coward while running away from you*

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

🍺 EVAN BLACK — original story; true neutral, warrior, always tired, grumpy, *takes a gulp of vodka straight from the bottle* “my day was fine”, “i’m not sad, that’s literally just my face. being miserable is a part of my personality”

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

🍷 TEREESE WILD — original story; lawful neutral, assassin, eyebrows that could kill a man, french accent, can run in high heels, “i’m not saying murder is the best option here, but also murder is the best option here”, secretly the mom friend

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

🎵 EDWIN FRANCOIS DE CANTA — original story; neutral good, bard, writer, knight, golden boy[tm], art hoe, lovable narcissistic asshole, “words can’t hurt me, these shades are gucci”

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

🔪 ODETTA D’PAVENSEI — tyranny/original story; lawful evil, fatebinder, necromancer, elegant, eats mortals for breakfast, probably up to some [un]holy shit, “don’t bleed over my floor you asshole”

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful

☀️ SHIREEN MAHALIEN — divinity original sin 2; lawful good, godwoken, necromancer, house of law, aristocratic, posh noble lizard lady, “silence, peasant”, functional tall [very. very tall]

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful