#[ glyphsinthefog ]

[insidious-journalist]

(( @glyphsinthefog -Dwight)) Wall - to find my muse leaning against a wall

For as much as Danny disliked the initial wave of anxiety once he arrived and was forced to interact with the other guests here at the ball, he was starting to settle into a groove he could get comfortable with. It wasn't exactly an entirely different persona, such as the journalist Jed Olsen back before the fog, but instead just himself indulging in the mystery aspect. Every prying question about the man behind the mask was met with a deliberate dodge of the question, playing coy and cheeky. It was a type of fun he could really play into.

It was a sort of fake it till you make it strategy where he feigned confidence initially until it became him, the flirt and mysterious man behind the mask with Entity claws like bird talons on one of his hands. And when he saw someone standing off to the side by himself, he decided that bothering this poor man was definitely in character.

"Not confident out on the floor?" Danny has taken a deliberate path to where it was immediately obvious that he was heading over to the other, aiming to catch him off guard to make things much more interesting. It was a person he couldn't recognize from body type or demeanor alone, and the rabbit mask wasn't doing him any favors in gleaming insight. A challenge, almost.

[the-game-warden]

((@glyphsinthefog )) After briefly being tended to by the fox-masked man, Dwight remained in the quiet rooms, hoping to have at least a bit of time to calm down. When his emotions passed his exhaustion took reign and dragged him deep down into a restless sleep.

As the party went on, time got a little... weird. It seemed to stretch on for days or even weeks, interactions and events almost seeming to blend into one another in a flurry of antics and violence, and it could have been hours later or no sooner than he had left that Jake returned to the quiet room, forming in like moonlight in a patch of fog.

There was a long period when Jake didn't move. He was barely functioning, still reeling from the second brutal attack he'd experienced by the Shape's hand. The only way he'd come out of it was by essentially leaving his body, dissociating so completely that he was still miles away from the moment when his body had failed and the danger finally passed.

And when he did come back to himself, all of his emotions came back with him.

He was still there. He was still there at that stupid party he didn't even choose to go to, still dressed in an awful, starchy suit that made him want to claw his own skin off. Still wearing that stupid, stupid fucking mask.

Jake yanked the mask off of his head and threw it at a nearby wall. It wasn't like there was anyone there to see his face anyway, aside from the one sleeping guest, and honestly he barely even cared if they woke up from his outburst. He was angry and uncomfortable and wholly fucking upset and all he wanted was to go home.

Not that home meant anything to him anymore. But anything had to be better than this.

He curled in on himself, his knees pressed to his chest as he tried to get a hold of himself and calm down, but all it did was make it that much easier for him to hide his face when the tears came.

[jakebark]

[1][2][3] | @glyphsinthefog

This one must be in a situation similar to himself, then, if he hadn’t needed another moniker to go by in all this time. That was an interesting distinction, a thread of thought that his mind briefly held onto. There were a lot of Dwights out there, and damn near all of them had nicknames because of it. The three that were always together, of course, but there were plenty more—it was almost surprising that this one had never met another.

But Jake guessed there were probably also a lot of other versions of himself out there, too, many of which he’d just never met before, or only ever met in passing in a trial. Still, though, it was odd.

“Glyph?” Jake echoed, glancing over to him with a brow furrowed like he might have misheard the word. Glyphs, like the ones that were inexplicably in trials every now and again? He didn’t understand what they were or what caused them, but he’d seen them once or twice before, and heard things about them, but nothing more than that. Why would he take on such a name? Jake wondered about it, but he didn’t bother asking. He just shrugged. “That’s… pretty cool, I guess.”

Glyph asked about his own name, which got a much longer pause from him. No one had ever called him any nickname that wasn’t an insult, he was pretty sure, at least not here in the Fog.

“Yeah. Jake,” he said. “You can… uh. Call me Wolf?” It was the easiest thing to think of. That was his ‘unique’ thing, after all, at least now it was. ‘Wolf’ or ‘Dog’ or… ‘Stray’, or something. That last one fit, maybe a little too well, but like hell was he giving something like that out as a nickname. If he didn’t play his cards right with these nicknames, he was going to end up getting called something stupid like Bark for the rest of his life. The Dwights were warnings in that regard, for sure.

[ask-the-boogeyman]

@glyphsinthefog cont from here;;

He doesn't care who this is, the bloodshed is the only focus the Shape seems to focus on. The halligan is mistaken for a knife, as is common with a Myers... But he wastes no time in leaping over the table as well, beginning to track the other man down. The shrill cry out, the cracked mask, and the blood splattering is only the beginning. The Boogeyman of Haddonfield and the Fog is only focused on the goal as his breath comes out in aggressive puffs.

Tunnel-visioned to secure another kill, the older man swings the halligan again, aiming to clip the man in his guts this time as he keeps the pursuit. He isn't so foolish enough to have the man scramble to the ballroom, red-visioned or otherwise but he is going to herd the man with these threads to a deeper section of the garden.

He wants nothing more than to kill, the rage of those Jakes messing with him surging this beast of a killer onward until he can be stopped.

[the-game-warden]

Jake chewed his lip, trying to think of something he could say to fix it. He was always bad at this part, at comforting people. Everything he could possibly say felt so meaningless and hollow, and he didn’t even know where he might find medical supplies around here. He was just… stuck.

“Yeah,” he finally said, deciding to just be honest in absence of anything else to do. “Sounded pretty bad. You were way outmatched, huh?” Danny wasn’t exactly an easy killer to fight in his own right, but tonight he had those Entity claws on his hand. By all means it wasn’t a fair fucking fight, but from what he could tell the guy held his own. Right up until the last bit, anyway…

“…I broke that guy’s leg once.” Distraction. Something to maybe keep the hare’s mind off himself. “He was caught in one of the Huntress’s traps and I cut him down. His femur snapped in half. It was pretty gnarly.” Jake hummed, idly tapping his hand on his own knee. “He got me back, though. So… y’know. You’re not alone in that.”

( @the-game-warden ) Pale - Dwight

Jake found the guy in the blue hare mask in the quiet room and sat down nearby. He hadn’t seen what happened himself—Kel had suddenly become very interested in introducing her Warden to as many Entities as possible—but he’d heard enough from the talk that followed.

“Hey. Are you okay?” Maybe it was a dumb question. The guy had been attacked by Danny, or maybe mostly Danny’s Entity, and his outfit was torn and stained with blood. He looked bad, but Jake wasn’t really sure what else to say.

He just. Felt like he should. They’d shared a nice moment earlier and he seemed like a perfectly sweet guy. Jake didn’t want to just… ignore him.

"No." His hands shook if he didn't clench them, though his bruised knuckles screamed protest and he was pretty sure he had broken at least one finger. His heart was still hammering even though the fight was long over. In all the bawling one of his mask's long ears got cracked and gave him a slightly lopsided appearance now.

The big wormy creature had simply carried him to the other end of the hall and given Dwight a pat on the head before leaving again. Absolutely baffling, but not half as startling as the helpless fury that still raced through him, which seemed much more pressing a matter than a helpful.. whatever that had been. Entity of some sort. Whatever.

"No, I'm not alright. And I don't know what to do... I messed up... So badly..."

[facesofthefog]

[algebra-of-infinite-night]

@glyphsinthefog - It was always the trials where you didn't see the killer right away that made Dwight the most nervous. The silence making him more and more tense until he was spending more time looking around than focusing on the generator he was working on. Inevitably, his hand slipped as he worked and the machine backfired loudly, making his heart hammer in his chest. Pause.... He still didn't see anything nearby... He really should finish this.....

Perhaps the most unnerving thing about the trees in the realm, was that despite a nonexistent wind making the branches slowly dance- there was never any gentle rustling sound to accompany it. The air was simply blanketed in a thick and choking silence save for the ambient drone of the dilapidated landscape or the disturbed cawing of crows.

Today Philip had carefully wrapped the clapper of his wailing bell in neatly cox-comb knotted rope. It effectively rendered his power silent, save for the xylophone whoosh of smoke and shadow that echoed throughout the trial grounds.

The Wraith uncloaked, standing behind the survivor fumbling over the generator, his breaths a rough and haunting rattle. His soot-symbol sickle knife was raised, glinting a cruel silver in the moonlight. Philip’s inhuman eyes shimmered within shadowed sockets, glowing like twin stars, his vision twisted in attunement to the spirit world. His prey was unaware, and now was his chance to strike mercifully.

The killer swung his weapon in a violent flourish, aiming in hopes of maiming or incapacitating his prey.

[yourfavoritehorrormovie]

Smile for the camera~

Info under the cut:

Danny Johnson, AKA Ghostface. Gangly, tired, likes to pretend to be a survivor, if he can get away with it.

Blog will include Dead By Daylight typical content such as violence, stalking and gore. Feel free to request tags. 18+

Mun also runs @lilguydredge, @bloodshedaria and @glyphsinthefog and follows from @noodledog

[hunting-the-game]

❤ (- what the heck. @glyphsinthefog too )

Heart eyes motherfucker-

Affectionate;

Holding hands | Cheek kisses | Hugs from behind | Cuddling | Hand kiss | PDA | Spooning | Shared baths | Whispers | Affectionate texts | Caressing | Stroke hair | No displays of affection

Sex;

Shower sex | Wall sex | Neck bites | Oral | Morning sex | Drunk sex | Public sex | Backseat of car | BDSM | No sex

Dates;

Picnic | Cinema | Restaurant | Sports game | Hike | Coffee | Museum | Club | Bar | Beach | No dates

Would my character…

Marry them? Yes | No (Actively planning to? Not really. Willing to? Absolutely)

Have sex on the first date? Yes | No (they’d have to build up to it)

Confess their attraction first? Yes | No (too much of a coward)

Have children/adopt? Yes | No (thinks he’d be a bad parent)

Die for your character? Yes | No (as many times as necessary)

Cheat on your character? Yes | No

Lie to them? Yes | No

Cuddle after sex? Yes | No

[legions-tape]

Frank reached and snatched the other male's wrist, yanking on it with a snarl, ignoring the pain that shot through his body once more. He pulled Dwight close to him, leaving the two of them just mere inches from one another's faces; their noses could practically be touching, and if one leaned in just slightly then they would. "If you dare tell anyone about this," he began to threaten, gritting his teeth. "I will make sure that the next trial I see you in, you'll wish you never helped me." His fingers squeezed Dwight's wrist, adding to the threat he started before letting go and sitting back in his spot on the ground. "I'll find you outside the trials, and I'll find a way to bury you like I buried that unsuspecting janitor..." He used his good arm to reach up, bandaged fingers running through his brunette curls. "However...Seeing as you came out here, found me, spotted the obvious and decided to help," Frank grabbed his discarded hoodie, fumbling around in the pockets in search of something. "I'll spare you for a few trials..." He mumbled, pulling out what he had searched for, holding it out to the survivor as if he hadn't just laid a threat. One of The Legion pins. The inked male didn't really understand why he was risking it like this, Frank knew well what would happen if even just one survivor got out. "I can only handle so many punishments from It..." Frank's tone dropped, his eyes never looking at the survivor. "I Legion Promise..." Maybe one day they would get to escape. But Frank still didn't know if he would ever take that offer, the realms were all he came to knew after so long.

@glyphsinthefog (Ask meme) "You're bleeding."

Was he now...?

Frank scoffed at the mention of him bleeding. "Is it my blood, or the blood of survivors?" He asked, annoyance lacing in his words. In truth, he wouldn't be too surprised if the blood on his body was a mixture of the survivors he had just sacrificed in the precious trial, and of his own. Survivors put up a fight, they didn't go down easy, especially when they shoved a piece of whatever into the shoulders of killers just for an extra chance of escape. "Why do you care anyways?" He growled, looking up from his spot on the ground to who bothered pointing out the blood soaking the back of his hoodie.

[the-game-warden]

[Previous] @glyphsinthefog

A smile broke onto Jake's face at the shower of kisses and he nuzzled his face into Dwight's chin. He tried to be careful around his neck, remembering the ugly bruises left there, and by Danny no less...

God, Jake just wanted to wrap him up in his arms and hold him. Dwight didn't deserve that. No matter what happened he didn't deserve that...

Jake wished he could say something to make everything better, but he could still barely make any noise at all. Instead he settled for curling up with him and running his fingers through Dwight's hair. Something meant to be calming, comforting. Something to make both of them feel better, hopefully.

[jakebark]

[1][2][3][4] | @glyphsinthefog

Jake was blessed with wonderful silence for the next few moments. Thirty seconds, a minute, maybe two—he had no way to tell, time only measured by how much more the sounds around him were beginning to blur, unable to focus on anything in the din of voices and footsteps and ambience. He felt a weight in his lap then, and glanced down, brow furrowing upon making eye contact with the clear glass eyes of the rabbit helmet-mask.

He looked over at Glyph, turning his head just slightly to hear him better as the Dwight explained himself. His brow furrowed, the gears in his brain visibly turning as he tried to figure out where the lapse in communication had occurred. He did not, physically, have enough blood in his veins to try to puzzle out something like this.

“…Think you… misunderstood me,” Jake said, centering unfocused golden eyes on the man. “’M not… tryin’ to give no wishes out, or trying to… get any.” He didn’t know what he’d wish for if he had one. He would never be lucky enough to wish for freedom, and beyond an end to what he dealt with here there was very little he desired. He pushed the helmet away. “Sides… reason I said tha’s’cause it’d… be a lot easier for me if you could just…” Jake clicked his tongue, making a brief motion with his thumb. “Save… me some time. ’Cause, uh… buddy, that… y’gotta kill someone for the wish, y’know, is not just the… the mask.”

His head tipped forward finally, chin resting against his chest. His breathing was getting quicker, shallower; not a good sign by any means. The exhaustion was creeping up, and it was hard to keep his eyes open anymore, so he stopped trying to.

Jake let out a little noise from the back of his throat; one that was tired, pained, too much of both to bother muffling anymore. “Got one wish,” he corrected, quietly, speaking far too slowly. He was starting to slip into delirium. “Gonna… fuck up… fuck up that, this bastard. Yeah, that’s… nnh.” He winced and his feet briefly shifted like he was trying to draw his legs up to curl in on himself, but he hardly moved at all. “…m gonna… kill him.”

[ask-organized-chaos]

@glyphsinthefog Finding Blair was.. Tricky. He only had a note to go off of with no location mentioned, but Dwight felt like he had a fairly good idea of most survivors... So all it took was keeping his eye out for someone unfamiliar. Probably helped that he'd been given a book and he spotted someone else poking around the Artist's Library for any books to scavenge. "You're Blaire, right?"

Blair looked down from the ladder he'd been climbing, grinning at the visitor. He wasn't expecting to see anyone today. Despite the fact that Carmina was in a trial, most people tended to avoid straying so close to her nest. Of course, most people didn't feel particularly safe around crows in this place. "That's what I call myself," he said, sliding down the ladder and landing on the sand-dusted floor with a short huff of breath. The newcomer was definitely a survivor. Short, dark hair, plain features and dress... One of the Dwights he'd seen running around, he was sure. And given the context... "Ah! You got my journal, right?" He'd only heard in passing about the survivor who had a penchant for messing with the glyphs, but he'd gotten enough information from that to find his camp and gift him something relevant. It was a gift of charity, no strings attached, but he made sure to leave him with a sort of calling card. Something for the survivor to seek out, something to get him intrigued... Not that Blair had any ulterior motives in mind, but it was never a bad idea to collect a few favors for when one might find need of them. "I'm guessing you wanted to talk magic, then?

[ask-the-boogeyman]

🎁 + [ A small box of homemade cookies is left somehwere Michael can find it. The gifter was too scared to stick around.] @glyphsinthefog

It was wise to be wary, for the Boogeyman is not one for mercy normally. He has been accepting these gifts but that does not mean he would be any kinder to those that have offered them. The most he would do is make their deaths quick, rather than drawn out... And that isn't much better really.

The cookies are taken and he sits on the porch, slipping one under his mask to eat it quietly. Sweets were his favorite after all.

[insidious-journalist]

If he had the focus to be his usual overthinking self he'd probably question things a lot more, like why there was an Entity helping out Fiver who looked like a weird pillowpet and how it managed to stick him to a wall with some sort of weird... Liquid. All perfectly reasonable questions he didn't care to ask himself as he struggled against the glue material to no avail, acting more like a trapped animal than a person.

How dare this other Entity interfere with his fight. They were so close to getting the man to just shut up but no, this wasn't fair. The sharp claws tried to rip themselves free from the glue trap but it made no progress, leaving him to hiss and curse out loud with no regard for the other guests watching the drama unfold. All that mattered to him was that his kill got away and was robbed from him just like that.

How pitiful.

Danny could only struggle so much before he just couldn't move anymore, wheezing and letting his head droop down as he slowly succumbed to his new circumstances. The Hand Entity however continued to claw and struggle besides him, being its own beast entirely and practically glowing with the energy of a being who's been ticked off a bit too much. The only thing keeping it from running amok and finishing what it started was the fact it was still connected to Danny, something it was beginning to regret and reconsider.

(( @glyphsinthefog -Dwight)) Wall - to find my muse leaning against a wall

For as much as Danny disliked the initial wave of anxiety once he arrived and was forced to interact with the other guests here at the ball, he was starting to settle into a groove he could get comfortable with. It wasn't exactly an entirely different persona, such as the journalist Jed Olsen back before the fog, but instead just himself indulging in the mystery aspect. Every prying question about the man behind the mask was met with a deliberate dodge of the question, playing coy and cheeky. It was a type of fun he could really play into.

It was a sort of fake it till you make it strategy where he feigned confidence initially until it became him, the flirt and mysterious man behind the mask with Entity claws like bird talons on one of his hands. And when he saw someone standing off to the side by himself, he decided that bothering this poor man was definitely in character.

"Not confident out on the floor?" Danny has taken a deliberate path to where it was immediately obvious that he was heading over to the other, aiming to catch him off guard to make things much more interesting. It was a person he couldn't recognize from body type or demeanor alone, and the rabbit mask wasn't doing him any favors in gleaming insight. A challenge, almost.

[the-game-warden]

((@glyphsinthefog -Blue )) Observe - for your muse to catch mine observing other guests

Kel walked over to the food table, having spotted her brother (for lack of a better relational word) watching the other guests at the ball. That was more or less expected, of course. Blue was very passive, all things considered. They preferred to watch, often from afar, as though taking joy in the simple act of seeing what all was happening. Kel never understood it herself.

"I hope you haven't been bothering the mortals too much," she said, making a drink for herself as she spoke. Drinking was... more or less new to her. She'd only recently taken on a mortal form herself for the sake of socializing with the other Entities, and as such she was still adjusting to the minutia. Alcohol, for instance. "I know you're fascinated with them but sometimes you can come across as... Off-putting."

That was the kindest way to put it. Most mortals would likely find a giant velvet worm looming over them nothing less than outright horrifying. But honestly the mortal appearance he'd been experimenting with was almost worse, falling squarely into the "Uncanny Valley" as she'd learned about in her research, and if nothing else at least he'd had enough sense to wear a bowtie.