the-killer-kit

[the-killer-kit]

FULL VIEW PLEASE because curse you, compression

So, several weeks ago I had this idea for a vision thanks to @the-killer-kit

Their mun and I got to nattering about Kit and his perks and lore and--

This happened.

Yep

[the-killer-kit]

I am so sorry for the short notice but effective immediately this blog is on hiatus. I will return when I'm finished moving and my headspace is better. Thank you for understanding.

[the-killer-kit]

In his haze of desperation, Kit saw an outline of someone running for the gate. No, no, no - not this time. He ran for the other person - a woman with short, black hair and a familiar, horrified expression as he caught up with her, tackled her to the ground, grinned in her face. Oh, this was all her fault - hers and the little motherfucker that had gotten away from him already.

“Where is she!?” he spat in her face, grabbing her flailing arms and pinning them to the ground with fury as he gripped his knife tightly in his hands. “Goddamn it, tell me where she is!!” There was no more playfulness in his voice, no more patience, or warmth, or anything. To him, this little piece of scum was nothing more than prey, a canvas for him to paint on - the brush, his knife. The survivor beneath him writhed wildly in vain, screaming wordlessly, whether in frustration or fear he couldn’t tell. Likely a combination of both, considering she had gotten so close to escaping.

This was getting him nowhere. Kate was still here - he could feel it. He could feel it in every throb of his heart, every creak of his bones, that she was still lurking about in the trial, still driving him insane with desire, still making him wish he could hold her in his arms. The clock was ticking down, and his desperation only grew. His patience wore out faster, however, and he leaned back, straddling the survivor beneath him and pinning her with his weight as he released her arms, poising the knife above her and taking his first vicious stab into her stomach. Watching her lurch with pain and clip out another scream was satisfying - it made him feel good, punishing her for her transgressions, and so he pulled the knife out with a rip, preparing to do it all over again. If he couldn’t have Kate, he’d have another kill.

[Previous Post] - @wanderingsongbird 

Kit could feel his beloved Kate tremble beneath his touch, and his heart thudded with delight in his chest; he knew that she, too, could feel their connection. They belonged together, he knew that well, and so did the Entity herself - that was why she had marked Kate so. There needn’t be any reason why; Kate had been talking nonsense, asking such questions. Some things were just meant to be, right?

She gently pushed him back and he, love-stricken, gazed into her scared little eyes, curiosity flickering into them when he detected that growing terror. Why would she be afraid of true love? He parted his lips to speak, but it seemed that she had other plans - because in the mere few moments of silence they shared, she had decided to take action.

The pain wracked him in a sharp lightning bolt between the legs and he couldn’t stop the yelp that left his lips, instantly dropping to his knees and bracing himself against the tree as she ran from him. She’d struck him so hard that he couldn’t breathe for a moment, just struggling to endure the lingering pain, before it clicked in his brain that she was getting away.

He’d been lied to, and she was escaping.

“Kate!!” he barked out, stumbling his way to his feet again and rushing after her in a desperate attempt to stop her rush for the gates. She was far, far too ahead of him, though, and within a few moments of running, frustrated tears started to flood his vision, blurring the image of her back fading off into the distance. “Come back,” he cried, “please!” This wasn’t fucking fair! How dare she? How dare she!? Lied and tricked him, made him believe his desperate search was over, that he’d finally gotten what he needed - only for her to leave him in the dust like a fool.

He’d get her. He’d get her in his grasp again, and next time, she wouldn’t be able to escape. He wouldn’t let her whims fool him again. He was so frustrated he could hardly think, rushing around the tall walls of the realm toward the gate that started to creak its way open the closer he got. He knew he wasn’t going to catch her - he knew that. He knew it was foolish to try. But his heart was twisting with grief, with anger, and if he couldn’t catch her, he’d catch one of the other two bastards that had ruined his chances. If they’d have just let the trial continue, then- then- surely he could have convinced her that he was all she needed. His mind was whirling with outrage, with despair, with loneliness, and he could barely do anything but sob and heave breaths into his lungs, looking utterly wild with desperation. 

The time for calm was over.

[the-killer-kit]

I’ll always come back.

What a bittersweet lie that was. Kit had never forgotten the way his beloved Jake had been. The sharp tongue, always witty and crass with anyone but him - with Kit, it had always been tenderness, soft touches, sweet caressing that had always ended in them curled up in one another’s arms, swearing never to let go -- 

And then Jake had broken his promise.

It wasn’t his fault. He knew that. No matter what he’d tried or done, nothing would have ever prevented the life from leaving Jake’s eyes the longer they endured being in the Fog. They’d been there so long that Kit had lost count - he’d forgotten what year it had even been when he’d been taken, and Jake had been there even longer than he when he’d arrived. It had only been a matter of time before Jake had lost all hope and vanished into the void, and Kit’s only wish was that he’d gone, too. Then he wouldn’t have had to suffer alone, then turned into a helpless little creature, and then -- this. This state that he was only conscious of when he was alone in his realm, stalking through a rose garden so lovely that it made him sick. Full of the smell of roses, not pine, not earth, not the smells of Jake that had made his stomach twist with delight and his senses sing with warmth, with remembrance.

But here it was, making tears flood his eyes and tumble down his face in a far from elegant flow, drawing a broken sob from his lips as he buried his face in a shoulder so familiar and yet not quite, making him feel all the more alone despite being in the arms of the one he’d wanted more than anything else in the Fog. In the world. In the universe.

He was pulled back again, and he stared hopefully into the eyes of Jake - and was so lost in the moment that he’d forgotten he was supposed to be playing along. Jake’s brow furrowed, and then he asked a question - one that made utterly no sense to him. “Glyphs?” he echoed, unable to disguise the confusion in his voice, and his heart lurched. What are you doing!? he hissed to himself, anxiety swirling in his gut as he gripped Jake tighter, as if desperate not to let him go. 

“I promise, it’s me,” he said, voice weakening with uncertainty now that he’d blown everything to pieces. Jake couldn’t leave. He couldn’t just go now that he knew. This wasn’t fair.

[Previous Post] @the-game-warden 

Kit could feel his blood pumping in his ears, his heart thumping in his chest, and for once, he found himself utterly speechless. There he was, staring hopefully at him - for once carrying no disdain, no disgust, no apprehension. Just…Jake. Hopefully looking back at him with a twinkle in his eyes that he’d never thought he’d see again.

He was closing the distance before he realized it, throwing his arms around him, fingers digging into his back as he nuzzled into his neck, breathed in his scent, smelling so dizzyingly like his that he was utterly convinced, for a moment, that this could really be him, that his suffering had finally ended. That he could finally be reunited with the one person that had ever given him the time of day.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back,” he whispered, his voice wilting, shaking with relief. “I didn’t- I thought I was alone again. I thought you left me. How-?”

He remembered seeing that dead, hopeless look in his beloved’s eyes before he’d finally vanished one day. He remembered the way he’d drained of will to live, had stopped running from the killers in trials, had just let them kill him every single time until there was nothing left of him to kill. He knew what happened to survivors that had lost their will to survive. But what made him come back?

Survivors never came back once they faded, he knew that. Something itched in the back of his mind, told him this was wrong, that this was a farce, but when he pulled back anyway, his amber eyes were still glowing with love, with that same unhinged delight he carried for every Jake he saw. But this time…this one had looked at him differently. Surely he wouldn’t notice, too, that something was amiss. Surely he could just be his again.

[the-killer-kit]

[Previous Post] @ask-dbd-adawong

Classic Ada - nonchalant, despite being cornered and left with nowhere to run. It was no surprise to him that she had failed to buckle under the pressure - not only were they not in a trial, where his presence was far more effective, but it was a woman who had thrived off of her ability to hold onto her composure in potentially (and certainly) dangerous situations. Getting her to melt would be quite the challenge.

He couldn’t help the ominous grin that stretched across his features as she spoke and then yanked him by his tie down to her level - and a laugh left him, low and careful, more a chuckle than a cackle. “I would never use such crass language,” he hummed, his orange gaze glimmering with desire. Wrapped around her finger, he was, indeed. Her beauty matched her cleverness, as it did her smarts.

“I’ve been told I can be persistent,” he purred, “so I think we’ll be evenly matched, darling. Tell me - why is it you’re out here all alone? Did we think we could manage whatever lurked out here? Have we forgotten how vulnerable we’ve become in a place like this?” His fingers crept out, gliding across her collar bone, ghosting in a hint of a touch as if to let his prints taste her skin. Testing the waters, in a way, without seeming cautious. Whether she lashed out or not, he still had the upper hand here - but he was a gentleman, after all. 

[the-killer-kit]

⚠️tw: sudden kiss⚠️

Confuse Kit, it did; in fact, he was struck wordless as a finger was jabbed into his chest, spoken to sternly like he were being scolded by the other man. It made the frantic haze in his brain slow down, though the whispers in his ears were still demanding to kill him. He didn’t listen.

No one had ever asked him to prove it before.

Kit’s glowing amber gaze studied Brad’s features as if to see if he were bluffing, if this were some fearful ploy to distract him from his fate, but another part of his brain was delighted. He was being invited to prove himself, not just dared, he was certain. And Brad was such a handsome little fellow, too; scared and resigned, yes, but that took little away from his natural allure. 

The knife dropped from Kit’s trembling, bloodied fingers and he reached forward, grabbing the other man’s face in his hands and pulling him close to claim his lips in a rough, eager kiss, tasting him with vigor despite his brain going haywire with displeasure. Even through the haze, he knew what he desired, and he was going to have it. 

[Previous Post] @ask-dbd-brad-vickers 

Brad was smart, keeping his distance and avoiding Kit’s approach with even steps to mirror his own. That frustrated him. He could hardly think straight, Entity whispers swarming his brain, telling him to kill, telling him gibberish, just fueling him with bloodlust and desire entwined. He wanted to rip Brad to shreds just as much as he wanted to hold him in his arms.

Brad’s words made him pause, blinking slowly with surprise, before he laughed. Not quite a pleasant laugh; it was more of a bark of delirium, of delight. He found him handsome, did he? How flattering. Not many complimented him in the face of his affections, not anymore. It made his desire spike. Now he wanted to smother Brad with love, with kisses, his brain itching with the static that so many kills brought him. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t make his thoughts stop racing.

“You’ll only end up like your friends if you run away from me,” he panted, wiping the sweat from his brow and streaking blood across his face in the process. “Trust me, Brad. I just want you to be mine.” His frantic, unsteady tone surely didn’t provide much comfort, however. “Is that so hard to ask? Just come to me, darling. I won’t hurt you.” Kill him, his thoughts hissed, unintelligible whispers making his skin crawl and itch. Kill him, kill him, make him suffer- But all the same, he wanted to hold Brad’s face in his hands, to kiss him, to see him smile. It was such a difficult decision he was going to have to make once he finally caught him.

[the-killer-kit]

Kit tutted crossly as Jake spoke to him with a snarky edge to his voice, though he hardly took offense to it. He understood this one seemed to have a bit of a bite to his tone, no matter what he tried; he would simply have to get used to that. He found it charming, really, that he seemed so sharp and angry, almost like it were a defense mechanism from a scared little pup that didn’t know any better. He didn’t understand how good he could be for him; he understood that now.

“Well, why don’t we change that?” he said, voice softening as he brushed a few wild strands of dark hair from Jake’s face before cupping his cheek. “I think the greatest way is...well.” He paused, before a wide smile overtook his expression, delighted by the idea he’d been struck with. Why, of course! What better way to introduce himself than to bring Jake home - that would charm him to death, he was sure. He had no doubt the other man was sick of seeing a sickly forest, or in this case, a gloomy estate that only a big (handsome) brute stormed about on in between trials.

“If I let open the trap,” he said carefully, “will you come with me? I want to show you something, Jake. I think you’ll love it.” His eyes glimmered with excitement. “I’ll let you go once I show you. I promise.”

[<<first][< prev] | @the-killer-kit ⚠️ tw: kit’s a creep.

Jake’s grimace deepened as the knife was ripped from his numbing fingertips and tossed far and away, well out of reach of either of them and especially out of his own reach. He pulled loosely at Dwight’s fingers, and finally Dwight let go and let him breathe again and he coughed and hacked as oxygen flooded back into his lungs. He panted, still glaring up at Dwight with a furious look on his face, but he didn’t fight or act out—not yet, anyway.

He needed to regain his strength before he tried anything. He didn’t know what to try, really, but as Kit went on to him about how he needed to be a good boy it spurred him on just a bit more to fight until Kit was pissed off enough to either kill him, or… “Go on, leave me here,” he muttered. “Least the… Trapper will kill me if he finds me.” Jake hated the guy, and the Trapper hated him back, but it was all business. His deaths tended to be both painful and quick. Much preferred over whatever this was.

Kit’s fingers ran through his hair and Jake thought about biting the idiot again, which Kit apparently thought of, too, grabbing him by the chin and pushing his head away. Jake’s skin crawled, feeling Kit’s breath tickle his neck and he tensed, free leg drawing up while he tried to block the creepy bastard’s actions out of his mind and focus on what he needed to do. Rather, what he could do. Fight is what he wanted to do, he was really ready to sock Kit a good one, but he had no leverage from the ground and in this awkwardly-pinned position. He might be able to get a good kick in, but probably not good enough to piss him off enough to get Jake’s desired result—death or solitude.

Frustrated by his own inability to do something useful, he remained motionless. Just be patient, he told himself, even though he really, really didn’t want to be fucking patient. If he got out of the trap, injured leg or no, he might be able to overpower the killer, at least for long enough to do… something. Lead Kit into a trap, or better yet, lead him to the Trapper himself. The killer didn’t like intruders and, while Jake probably wouldn’t get out of that one, it was preferable.

“What the hell do you want from me?” he asked finally, through his teeth, turning his gaze away to leer into the trees instead, focusing on a tangle of brambles in the undergrowth. “I’m not your Jake.”

[the-killer-kit]

[Previous Post] - @wanderingsongbird 

Kit could feel his beloved Kate tremble beneath his touch, and his heart thudded with delight in his chest; he knew that she, too, could feel their connection. They belonged together, he knew that well, and so did the Entity herself - that was why she had marked Kate so. There needn’t be any reason why; Kate had been talking nonsense, asking such questions. Some things were just meant to be, right?

She gently pushed him back and he, love-stricken, gazed into her scared little eyes, curiosity flickering into them when he detected that growing terror. Why would she be afraid of true love? He parted his lips to speak, but it seemed that she had other plans - because in the mere few moments of silence they shared, she had decided to take action.

The pain wracked him in a sharp lightning bolt between the legs and he couldn’t stop the yelp that left his lips, instantly dropping to his knees and bracing himself against the tree as she ran from him. She’d struck him so hard that he couldn’t breathe for a moment, just struggling to endure the lingering pain, before it clicked in his brain that she was getting away.

He’d been lied to, and she was escaping.

“Kate!!” he barked out, stumbling his way to his feet again and rushing after her in a desperate attempt to stop her rush for the gates. She was far, far too ahead of him, though, and within a few moments of running, frustrated tears started to flood his vision, blurring the image of her back fading off into the distance. “Come back,” he cried, “please!” This wasn’t fucking fair! How dare she? How dare she!? Lied and tricked him, made him believe his desperate search was over, that he’d finally gotten what he needed - only for her to leave him in the dust like a fool.

He’d get her. He’d get her in his grasp again, and next time, she wouldn’t be able to escape. He wouldn’t let her whims fool him again. He was so frustrated he could hardly think, rushing around the tall walls of the realm toward the gate that started to creak its way open the closer he got. He knew he wasn’t going to catch her - he knew that. He knew it was foolish to try. But his heart was twisting with grief, with anger, and if he couldn’t catch her, he’d catch one of the other two bastards that had ruined his chances. If they’d have just let the trial continue, then- then- surely he could have convinced her that he was all she needed. His mind was whirling with outrage, with despair, with loneliness, and he could barely do anything but sob and heave breaths into his lungs, looking utterly wild with desperation. 

The time for calm was over.

[the-killer-kit]

[Previous Post] @the-game-warden 

Kit could feel his blood pumping in his ears, his heart thumping in his chest, and for once, he found himself utterly speechless. There he was, staring hopefully at him - for once carrying no disdain, no disgust, no apprehension. Just...Jake. Hopefully looking back at him with a twinkle in his eyes that he’d never thought he’d see again.

He was closing the distance before he realized it, throwing his arms around him, fingers digging into his back as he nuzzled into his neck, breathed in his scent, smelling so dizzyingly like his that he was utterly convinced, for a moment, that this could really be him, that his suffering had finally ended. That he could finally be reunited with the one person that had ever given him the time of day.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back,” he whispered, his voice wilting, shaking with relief. “I didn’t- I thought I was alone again. I thought you left me. How-?”

He remembered seeing that dead, hopeless look in his beloved’s eyes before he’d finally vanished one day. He remembered the way he’d drained of will to live, had stopped running from the killers in trials, had just let them kill him every single time until there was nothing left of him to kill. He knew what happened to survivors that had lost their will to survive. But what made him come back?

Survivors never came back once they faded, he knew that. Something itched in the back of his mind, told him this was wrong, that this was a farce, but when he pulled back anyway, his amber eyes were still glowing with love, with that same unhinged delight he carried for every Jake he saw. But this time...this one had looked at him differently. Surely he wouldn’t notice, too, that something was amiss. Surely he could just be his again.

[the-killer-kit]

Suddenly tired, Kit was barely able to keep himself conscious as Jed slipped in next to him and snuck his hand into his pocket to steal his knife. Jed’s words hardly made sense to him; he was quite certain this was the house of a killer, no?

And he was. A killer...that, well, seemed to want to hurt him, not have a pleasant evening drinking tea and conversating. An annoyed expression crossed his half-awake face, flickering his amber eyes up to glare at Jed’s smirking (handsome) face as his own weapon was brandished against him. “And just...” He paused to yawn, his gaze swimming in darkness for a moment as his head bobbed before he shook off the wave of unconsciousness, muttering, “...just what do you plan to do...with my knife...?” He had to admit, he was...uncertain. His heart was throbbing with unease. But at the end of the day, the worst he could do was kill him - and Kit had died before. He was more annoyed that he’d been led into the situation under false pretenses - called sweetheart as if he’d been flirting, only to drug him so he could play with his knife. Slippery bastard.

[Previous Post] @jed-the-newspaperguy  ⚠️tw: drugging ⚠️

Not long after, Kit was led inside. Admittedly, he was curious; never before had he seen a home inside the Fog. It brought back distant memories - ones he could hardly parse, but they were still there. Cloudy memories of home, of sleeping in a bed at night, of being – different. Normal. Not being the way he was.

Keep reading

[the-killer-kit]

[Previous Post] @ask-dbd-brad-vickers 

Brad was smart, keeping his distance and avoiding Kit’s approach with even steps to mirror his own. That frustrated him. He could hardly think straight, Entity whispers swarming his brain, telling him to kill, telling him gibberish, just fueling him with bloodlust and desire entwined. He wanted to rip Brad to shreds just as much as he wanted to hold him in his arms.

Brad’s words made him pause, blinking slowly with surprise, before he laughed. Not quite a pleasant laugh; it was more of a bark of delirium, of delight. He found him handsome, did he? How flattering. Not many complimented him in the face of his affections, not anymore. It made his desire spike. Now he wanted to smother Brad with love, with kisses, his brain itching with the static that so many kills brought him. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t make his thoughts stop racing.

“You’ll only end up like your friends if you run away from me,” he panted, wiping the sweat from his brow and streaking blood across his face in the process. “Trust me, Brad. I just want you to be mine.” His frantic, unsteady tone surely didn’t provide much comfort, however. “Is that so hard to ask? Just come to me, darling. I won’t hurt you.” Kill him, his thoughts hissed, unintelligible whispers making his skin crawl and itch. Kill him, kill him, make him suffer- But all the same, he wanted to hold Brad’s face in his hands, to kiss him, to see him smile. It was such a difficult decision he was going to have to make once he finally caught him.

[the-killer-kit]

Rp starter - @the-game-warden

Well this was new.

Jake had been wandering through the fog between trials, curious about what all was different from... Whatever it was he'd left. A lot of it seemed mostly the same. He found plenty of realms that were familiar to him, realms of killers he recognized and remembered. This realm was different. The fog had gradually given way to something that looked like a huge garden. Manicured bushes and trellises surrounded him on all sides, each one absolutely covered in pure white roses. It was definitely nothing he'd ever seen before. Out of curiosity he picked one of the roses, frowning as the flower immediately wilted in his hand. Something that was far too warm and viscous to be sap leaked out from it, staining his hand red wherever it touched. Maybe he shouldn't be here. Jake turned around to leave, only to be faced with a forked path. Which way did he come in from, anyway?

In his realm, Kit was often all alone.

Sometimes other killers wandered in, explored, but they never stayed. Survivors never wandered in his realm - likely from being unable to find it, he was certain, but the loneliness never stopped echoing in his mind between the trials. It was why he wandered so much himself; he couldn’t stand being alone in that garden, no matter how gorgeous and sculpted it was.

He’d just completed a trial - two kills he’d earned - and was roaming the endless maze of roses when he felt a disturbance within his realm; another presence had entered. Another killer, most likely. If he approached, it was likely they would leave; it wasn’t often that a fellow killer entertained his advances, after all. He was too much like a certain survivor to stir any real interest in those that weren’t already infatuated with Dwight Fairfield.

Still, he found himself approaching the entrance, only pausing in his tracks when he recognized the black fluff of hair sitting atop the intruder’s head, his back to the killer. Jake? His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His heart throbbed in his chest, memories rushing back to his head as he stared at that familiar form, that unmistakable flannel he wore from time to time. 

No survivor ever came to his realm. So why was he here?

Kit swallowed, for once found completely speechless. Was it you? he thought, seeking the whispers of the Entity, but she was silent in his head. She always was when he was free of a trial, and in the moment, it frustrated him. His heart started to race, and he hesitated before he slipped his knife into his pocket, adjusting his tie with shaky fingers. It had to be him. It was -- there was no way it wasn’t, right?

His voice was uncharacteristically nervous as he spoke up, cloyingly thick with hope.

“Jake?”

[the-killer-kit]

[Previous Post] @ask-organized-chaos 

In the long, quiet moment shared between the two of them, there was quite a bit of studying going on. Apprehensive on Blair’s part, he was sure, but interested on Kit’s. There were very few killers that didn’t look monstrous in some way - not that he minded that, for the most part - and this one didn’t particularly seem that way, not yet. He was a bit like Kit; rather normal in appearance.

Well. For the moment, anyway. Kit knew better than to accept fellow killers at face value, especially since he himself was not a particularly powerful one. He’d been thrown into a wall by many a killer that didn’t entertain visitors, but this one didn’t appear too threatened by him. Besides, he always came back if he was torn to shreds. Why not risk it? It wasn’t like Kit had a fear of death anymore.

“Sorry,” he replied, not sounding all that apologetic, “I’m not much of a reader. I’m more...talkative.” If Blair couldn’t tell already. “Blair,” he practically purred, “what a cute name. Aren’t you a handsome one.” Handsome indeed, with raven-black hair and a curious expression on his face. “You can call me Kit.” He reached out, offering a hand with his palm facing the ceiling as though he were offering an elegant greeting rather than a handshake.

[the-killer-kit]

Kit’s pleasant smile widened into a slightly ominous one as she met his stance with one of her own; classic Ada. Unsure of her situation, unsure of the stakes, but ever confident and smooth-coated to hide her uneasiness. It was one of the things he quite liked about her; she was able to hold quite the poker face, regardless of what situation she managed to be put in.

“All of you are little mice to me,” he murmured, “didn’t you know? I used to be quite the catty fellow.” Never mind that, though; he was more interested in her challenging tone, the lack of fear in her voice - oh, he knew he’d chosen a good one here. So kind of her to wander out in the darkness alone for him to find.

He laughed softly, though it turned into more of a dark chuckle as the breath left his lungs. “I didn’t think you cared to know my name,” he replied. “After all, you seem to like being chased. And you don’t particularly care who does it.” He could name a few men that, after all, fit the bill in pursuing her. Too bad they just weren’t as persistent as Kit could be. He twirled his shut pocket knife between his fingers, cocking his head as he continued to close the distance between them. He wanted to cage her in, but he knew that just wasn’t possible with someone as slippery as Ada. Oh, well. He’d bite and fool with some words for now. “You can call me Kit, little mouse. Or should I call you a little snake instead?”

Clearing through the bushes, the woman let out a sigh. She had the bright idea to go exploring through the woods by the campfire just to see how far they’ll go, but only ended up getting lost. Of course, with how stubborn Ada is, she refused to admit that. If anything, in her mind; she’s just taking the scenic route. Coming to a stop, she took a moment to look around, hoping to spot some type of familiar landmark. If she were to keep this up, she might end up stumbling into the killer side of the woods. And God only knows what awaits her there.

Tapping her foot, she clicked her tongue. Looks like she was going to have to go in a random direction and hope for the best. Continuing her walk, she moved further into the woods, stopping at the sound of the smallest noise. She quickly glanced around, narrowing her eyes. Someone else was out here. Her face twisted into a look of annoyance. Seems like she’ll have company, and it couldn’t possibly be the good type. Stepping back, she retreated into the darkness; her visitor yet to have notice her. She would’ve managed to successfully sneak away, if it weren’t for the sound of a twig snapping underneath her heel. “..Shit.” She muttered, hoping that the other didn’t notice.

(- @ask-dbd-adawong <3)

Kit loved to wander the woods outside of the campfires. In fact, most of the time he got lucky in his searching - the odd little mouse loved to scamper away, to skitter about in search of escape or something new, and that was where the cat could pounce.

This time was no different. He’d been following this woman for a while now - dear little Ada, who was far from little in personality; he knew that much. He knew all of his darling survivors so well by now, whether or not they knew him. He knew that many a Leon often sought her out, chasing after a woman that rarely looked over her shoulder, and Kit had to admit, that made her a nice target. He did love a woman tough that would take some work to swoon.

It was when she faded away into the darkness, hidden from sight, that he felt a spark of annoyance; slippery, she was, but she always had been. Slippery as she was crafty. However, not long after, he heard a twig snap, and a pleasant smile formed on his lips once again. Not slippery enough, sweetheart.

“Oh, Ada,” he sighed, gripping a tree and swinging himself around it to find her, his amber eyes hooded with smug glee. “I’m not that easy to lose. Didn’t you know? I never lose track of a little mouse that easily.” He approached her with confidence, not even brandishing his usual pocketknife; there was nowhere to run, not here. He didn’t have to hurt her -- unless he wanted to, that is. 

“Now, what are you doing all the way out here, darling?” he murmured. “Looking for a little special time with me? I’m flattered.”

@ask-dbd-adawong 

[the-killer-kit]

Why me? she asked, and it made him pause. Why her, indeed. He’d come into this trial just knowing that he wanted her, that it was her hand he wanted to grab, her hair to stroke, her lips to kiss -- it just wasn’t something he ever questioned. Why Kate?

He could tell her it was because she was beautiful, because she could sing, because she brought so much hope to the other survivors. Because her eyes still held such a spark that he’d missed seeing in dark eyes that had faded long ago. He could say it was because she hadn’t rejected his touch, because she made his mind stop spinning with desire to kill, or because her hair was so soft to the touch, but was that really why? He didn’t know. It frustrated him to think about. Was it because the Entity had told him to want her, was it because he desired contact at all, or was it because he truly did want her and no one else? Did she make him feel the same way he had all that time ago for someone else? Did anyone? Would he just be cursed to feel this way in every trial until the Entity had lost its use for him? He didn’t know. He just knew that if anyone else had come to them in that moment, to her rescue or otherwise, he’d have torn them to shreds just for a few more seconds with her.

“You don’t believe that I want only you?” he murmured, his finger tracing down to beneath her jaw, where it hooked and tipped her head up. “Do you need a reason?” Only one generator left. He was running out of time here. Soon, she would be taken from him, or she would run. “I’ll show you how much I want you, pretty bird.” He didn’t hesitate to lean in, to claim her lips with his own, his eyes slipping shut with a sigh of bliss. Her lips were so soft, so sweet, so much that it sated the bloodlust racing in his heart for the moment -- it made him feel sane, even if for just the time they stayed connected. She would surely push him away and run - they always did. Soon, he would be left feeling hollow and alone again, but for now, even with the last generator humming to life and the exit gates blaring their loud activation sounds, he was content. Kate tasted just as sweet as she looked.

[Previous Post] [1] [2] @wanderingsongbird 

Don’t call me that. He was surprised she was making requests, despite looking so scared. The fear in her eyes was palpable - hell, it was even present in her voice. It made his features soften with pity despite himself, and his index finger curled in her hair gingerly as he pondered her request.

“Of course,” he murmured, “anything for you.” Little Bird was much cuter, in his opinion, but if she didn’t like it…well. He’d just choose something else. She wouldn’t swoon for him if he kept doing things she didn’t like. “I don’t like that look on your face,” he declared after a moment. “What do I have to do to make you smile, sweetheart?”

His expression grew more frustrated, but it didn’t seem menacing, necessarily; it was more of an annoyance that he couldn’t seem to stop stressing her out, which was the opposite of what he wanted to do. “You seem to think I’m here to hurt you. I don’t want that.” He stroked her cheek with a bent finger, leaning closer to breathe in her sweet scent. “I just want you to be mine. Is that too much to ask, Kate?” Her name felt odd on his tongue, but he knew it well.

He knew all their names; every single survivor, without fail. He knew what made them tick, their special little quirks…and yet none of them thus far had seemed interested in him despite his efforts. It was no different from his time as a survivor, although it was distant. Anger started to churn in his belly, though he let none of it show on his face. It wasn’t her fault she was so indecisive. It was likely the other survivors poisoning the well for him, or the Entity making them despise him, anything but him being the reason for their disdain. There was nothing wrong with Kit! Absolutely nothing!

[the-killer-kit]

“You know I can’t do that, sweetheart,” he murmured, soothingly running his fingers across Jake’s brow to clear away the sweat forming there. Jake was nervous - that was understandable. Kit could be rather pushy, he knew that, but Jake was playing hard to get, and he could stop that any time he wanted to. Then, everything about this situation that was difficult could go away.

From where he was nestled into Jake’s neck, he could feel the thudding of his pulse, erratic and panicked, and it made his heart seize. He didn’t understand why all of this was so scary for him. Kit had hardly hurt him; sure, he’d almost had to put him to sleep to get him to calm down, and it had worked, but surely he understood that he just needed to accept him, right?

His head shot up as Jake hissed, I’m not your Jake. Oh, he knew that. Kit’s Jake was gone. Kit’s Jake had suffered with him through the Fog’s harsh reality until he had lost his spark, his glow, everything that had made him shine, before he’d finally vanished into the void, never to be seen again. Kit’s Jake had been everything he’d ever wanted, and he’d been wanted, too - that was the only time he’d ever been wanted. And now he was being reminded of that. “No,” he seethed quietly, sitting up and grabbing Jake’s face with a vice grip to force him to look into his angry amber gaze, “but you could be, if you just behaved. It’s not something I want from you; you are what I want. Don’t you get that!?” He was everything Kit could ever want, even down to the unnatural yellow gaze glaring up at him - if only he could just get over himself and see what he was being offered!

[<<first][< prev] | @the-killer-kit ⚠️ tw: kit’s a creep.

Jake’s grimace deepened as the knife was ripped from his numbing fingertips and tossed far and away, well out of reach of either of them and especially out of his own reach. He pulled loosely at Dwight’s fingers, and finally Dwight let go and let him breathe again and he coughed and hacked as oxygen flooded back into his lungs. He panted, still glaring up at Dwight with a furious look on his face, but he didn’t fight or act out—not yet, anyway.

He needed to regain his strength before he tried anything. He didn’t know what to try, really, but as Kit went on to him about how he needed to be a good boy it spurred him on just a bit more to fight until Kit was pissed off enough to either kill him, or… “Go on, leave me here,” he muttered. “Least the… Trapper will kill me if he finds me.” Jake hated the guy, and the Trapper hated him back, but it was all business. His deaths tended to be both painful and quick. Much preferred over whatever this was.

Kit’s fingers ran through his hair and Jake thought about biting the idiot again, which Kit apparently thought of, too, grabbing him by the chin and pushing his head away. Jake’s skin crawled, feeling Kit’s breath tickle his neck and he tensed, free leg drawing up while he tried to block the creepy bastard’s actions out of his mind and focus on what he needed to do. Rather, what he could do. Fight is what he wanted to do, he was really ready to sock Kit a good one, but he had no leverage from the ground and in this awkwardly-pinned position. He might be able to get a good kick in, but probably not good enough to piss him off enough to get Jake’s desired result—death or solitude.

Frustrated by his own inability to do something useful, he remained motionless. Just be patient, he told himself, even though he really, really didn’t want to be fucking patient. If he got out of the trap, injured leg or no, he might be able to overpower the killer, at least for long enough to do… something. Lead Kit into a trap, or better yet, lead him to the Trapper himself. The killer didn’t like intruders and, while Jake probably wouldn’t get out of that one, it was preferable.

“What the hell do you want from me?” he asked finally, through his teeth, turning his gaze away to leer into the trees instead, focusing on a tangle of brambles in the undergrowth. “I’m not your Jake.”

[the-killer-kit]

Character portrait commission for @the-killer-kit!! I think this is the best character portrait I’ve made so far! It was a lot of fun

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I’m currently open to DbD themed commissions to help fix my drawing tablet. [commission info]