#character: danny johnson

[crashandswirl]

don't give me that look . (For Cass lmao. It'd be funny to see two murderers interacting lol)

Unless you were Cassandra's mother, telling her to do something almost always resulted in the opposite. Or death. Perhaps both. It depended on her mood and whether or not she had an empty stomach.

So, as expected, the words did nothing to wipe the look off Cassandra's face, which was akin to that of a lion watching its prey. "I'll give you whatever look I please, manthing," was her immediate reply. She didn't care much for most men—except for the way their flesh and blood tasted.

"That sad little knife doesn't frighten me. It looks like a children's toy. So plain, too. Why not pick something more interesting to hunt with? Was that all you could find, or is this simply a matter of poor taste, hm?"

[alexfoundausername]

Survivor pov

Art process

[annokan]

Hate when that happens

[meaniie]

messy sketches and madness.

cowboy soma.

[toastedstencils]

i was a teenage poltergeist

[funtimeisparty]

👻🔪🍌🦔👻🔪🍌🦔👻🔪🍌🦔👻🔪🍌🦔👻🔪🍌🦔👻🔪🍌

Stop Calling!

👻🔪🍌🦔👻🔪🍌🦔👻🔪🍌🦔👻🔪🍌🦔👻🔪🍌🦔👻🔪🍌

[undinoble]

DEAD BY DAYLIGHT YCH PART 4!!!!

My newest 2 ideas where your character has really found a shiton of trouble, which one will you face?

YCH I can do any gender, facial expression, blood and custom, original character or canon survivor, but only humans, I do not draw furry. Evan can be unmasked!! DM me to claim a spot!

Payment in advance through Paypal, all prices will be added 7.4% to cover the international fee.

Render samples:

lineart/flat color/render

Check out the other DBD YCHs!

[theteasnake]

I'm once again talking about Danny Johnson because fucking brain rot.

But also character analysis because that's how I show love to my favorite (comfort) characters. 🩵

I swear I'm not trying to flood the Danny tag.

I've seen a lot of characterization of Danny, ranging from abusive and manipulative to a man whore who's a perv.

And I'd like to throw in: just a very tired dude who happens to be mentally unwell.

The only thing keeping this guy from offing himself is his hobbies, which just so happens to be creating stories and murdering. Like, if things went differently and he didn't turn to murder, he'd probably just end up a horror writer (good ending).

Other than stories/killing, he has adrenaline, but those almost always end in a crash. And at some point, he's gotta settle down for bed.

He's never made any meaningful connections to anyone outside of his dad, and even then, it seemed very... unpleasant and complicated. Even he can't tell if he has positive or negative feelings for his dad.

Even if he interacts with other people, he's still isolated because they don't know the real him. He's people-pleasing to the max because his livelihood and survival depends on how likable he is, because why would such a nice and young man commit all these murders all over the country? The same can be said about him and his dad, he had to be what his dad wanted him to be. It's not said if his dad was physically abusive, but military dads who came back from war tend to have a track record of being unkind to their sons.

I don't think he's ever felt a moment of relaxation or peace. He constantly has to watch others and keep a distance, and even when he's alone at home, all he does is sit and stare over his work. He has no sense of identity outside of his murders and stories.

I also saw that the developers called him narcissistic, mainly as an insult, and I don't know much about NPD (I've seen others say he has symptoms and most likely has it), so I can't comment on that. But I don't think the insult is even justified, he's not using others for his own needs, he keeps others at arms length because as soon as someone gets too close, he's done for. He also doesn't seem to be too showy with his work outside of his Ghostface persona, it's even said that he's only written some of the articles on GF (meaning his job in Roseville).

I doubt he's even been in a genuine romantic relationship. He's probably entertained the idea just to keep face or to blend in more because it would be weird for a young guy to not be looking for a girl to settle down with.

Not to mention the exhaustion from getting up early, working a 9-5, then staying up late to stalk/kill, then having to constantly play a character and following a script almost 24/7, while being on alert nearly his whole life. Then then suddenly being thrown into a slower pace environment where he doesn't have to worry about dying or being caught or having to pretend.

I could only imagine the whiplash he had.

Not to mention being labeled the Entity's (basically the god of this realm) golden child and favorite. I wouldn't be surprised if that title also adds stress/pressure.

Sure, he probably enjoyed it for the first hundred or so trials. But eventually everything starts being the same, and it's always the same people each time, and he's only allowed to do so many things in the trials, it eventually gets boring.

He went from taking his time to learn his prey, planning out an extravagant kill to rushing everything and doing things on a whim or following the same script over and over again (check gens, expose people, chase them, hook them, rinse, and repeat).

And we don't know how trials actually work in universe, we don't know if they canonically get breaks or even if the killers get breaks, or if they actually have places to stay in in-between trials, or if they're just overworked with trials back to back to back. We don't know if he is even given a chance to explore things and himself in the realm because he sure as hell never got one in his world.

Tattoos and piercings? Couldn't get them, those are identifiers and he'd stick out, plus it would leave a trail (idk in the 90s, but I had to give up ID to get my tattoo, and certain piercings need ID as well). He would constantly have to change his hairstyle and hair color, along with using makeup to make himself look different (that scar on his forehead is an identifier). He'd be forced to wear clothes that would match his current character's taste, never his own because that would be too consistent. He'd have to change up his way of talking (adding accents, switching up his vocabulary to match the locals, maybe even changing how his voice sounds). Constantly talking about topics he barely knows about because people around him enjoy it, pretending to be in the know to stay in the crowd. The only thing that he knows he enjoys is horror, but even then it doesn't scare him anymore and he only longs for the days when it did (and also probably rock considering his terror radius has some rock elements)

Who is he really? Who knows because he sure as hell doesn't. Maybe even that goofy side is just another facade to make others like him more.

I know a lot of his personality is hidden and not shown because it's supposed to be "it could be anyone" type of thing, but also, that could just play into the fact that he's technically a "nobody". Forever changing and blending in. I doubt even his Ghostface persona is the real him, it's probably just another character in his stories.

[abbiebsart]

ᴸᵒᵒᵏ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵃ ᵏⁿᶦᶠᵉᵎ

[alexfoundausername]

Thank you @overflowingbuckethat for bringing this to my attention.

@/reathahorvitz1987blog took my Ghost Face art through an AI generator and posted it on their account (also using the same tags I used for some reason). Their account is full of AI generated images that I assume are also taken from other artists.

I’d just like to make this be known through this post: Please don’t use my work for AI and please credit me and my work properly. This is basic courtesy for all artists.

[annokan]

Lost her meal for the week

[gloomyteddybear]

why framing matters

oneshot

cw/tw: it's more of an attempt at blackmail than anything, small-town typical 'tudes, it is now canon that 'prey! ghost popped a boner! also, homestuck ashen quadrants in a non-homestuck FF yay! and they kiss in the end!

i got the brainworms rn. straight up researching dialects for a fictinal american man written by canadians. then i remembered the bastard moved around a lot so he prolly picked up some new words

n-knee-way. continuation of 'prey!, this time MC's pov!

the two main things about small towns is that 1: everyone knows somebody. there's few enough people to share your attention to without spreading it too thin, at the very least remember their face enough to feel sympathy. so if they die it hits hard; fewer people means that the odds are higher, it's like shooting fish in a barrel.

in small towns you are 1 in a 1000, while in cities the odds are rarer 1-100.000. in a such a cramped town where everyone knows everyone, to do that is either a sign that they're stupid, have an accomplice or a real attention seeker.

and 2: word travels fast; specially if it is a tragedy, gossip is like rotten carrion for the vultures--- specially reporters and journalists. however, theres a instinctual hesitation to point fingers, 'they'd never hurt a fly' can only do so much to quell distrust. yes, they'd never say you did it, still treating you like they always did, defending your innocence and sweeping accusations under the rug--- but there's still that way some people look at you, the boat rockers to be precise. they'd never say it to your face, thanks to your friends, but they know.

i-told-you-so's already curled in their tongue like trying to hide a bullet on open-not-hiding-anything hands, the anticipation made them dangerous, you just knew. the way one wrong step is all it takes--- how a frightened deer might dash its brains against a tree in the scramble to flee a predator; or worse, trigger fingers on cowards that'd flinch a 'ready, go!'-shot on the air and begin the racing stampede. mass-hysteria herd-mentality. 

your friends-acquaintances-neighbors they'd rather deny on one's guilt, at least until the truths staring straight at them... unless one's an outsider. you were born an outsider, sure you were conceived and raised here. but you'd never fit in.

but, jed, meek door-mat who was not even here for a fraction of your lifetime was accepted with open arms.

ain't that unfair? 

a boring, condescendingly soft-spoken man with one of those 'aren’t i so charming and genuine, please like me’ smiles already curling his lips, they don't know him like they knew you. he had time to perfect the act. he's a novelty-clean slate of a man.

you muttered to yourself, "what can you do? you win some, you lose some,” you shrugged in consolation, "life’s fair like that.” you clean the counter harder.

it's not his fault, rationally you know it. somebody's gotta win somebody's gotta lose. he's not the one that put the cheese in the maze, it's these 'small town neighbors' types that pinned you two against eachother (although, you admit, the bitterness is rather one-sided). you're not a sore loser--- but this...you're already on thin ice, this could shatter it. this is what it feels to come second. without the damn cheese you'd starve---but it's fine. could be worse.

so. jed-one, you-zero

then, worse comes. some nosy ghost thinks he can waltz into your special little picnic, the same ghost who've been making tensions run high with paranoia. it's already bad enough without all the pointing fingers.

but you choked him, he was smart-dumb about it. dumb in the way he stayed down and didn't react when you did, let you take your anger out on him or at least until you lose interest, you could've killed him. but smart enough to know that defending himself would make it worse. like encountering a moose or a bear. you'd crush his skull.

he popped a fear-boner. you think. maybe an actual arousal boner, that's why he groped the tiny-thin bones of your wrist instead of breaking them. and destroy the grass. that too. you judge only a bit--- figures, serial killers aren't the most well adjusted people in the world. and one with that type of crime-scenes, probably has some psychosexual issues going on.

he bumbled away from your grasp like a fresh-born fawn after. he needed-deserved that win. ghost: one, you: zero. ugh. but it was by the goodness of your heart.

a 'ring!' on the door-chime and a hoarse "hey, sorry hi." brings an end to your musings and delivers jed, who waltzes in when you're about to close for the night. sporting a shiny new turtleneck that you just know these damn granny's drool over.

jed notices you staring at the new fashion statement, he smiled self-deprecatively "i look way-too-much like a churchy in my sunday best, don't i?"

he could see the white of your eyes from all the glaring.

he winced, pursing his lips like he ate something sour "sorry- like, i also have a graveyard if that makes you feel better?" he smiles winsomely, like the brownosed lapdog he is

he makes his order and smiles, you almost stop yourself from slamming it on the counter "sorry again." he slips a crushed bill out of his messenger bag and doesn't stay for you to give him his change, at least he tips well.

when you finish closing down for the night, locking the back-door, jed was hanging out by the back entrance.

you already knew, despite his doormat demeanor he was just like you. dead eyes. he at least had the 'decency' to hide his horns.

but that didn't mean you couldn't pretend that you didn't--- act startled and hit him in your 'surprise', as a treat. it should at least cut down the sneaking-up-on behaviour straight from the bud. you're not going to encourage that kind of stuff, specially since your latest voyeur probably managed to get enough to blackmail you (but for some odd reason, despite his reputation---he didn't use it, yet.)

you swung.

you: one. jed: one. tie.

"oh fuck..." he breathlessly mutters, cradling his bloodied nose.

"jed!" you fake a gasp. and trotted towards him, fussing over him with the hem of your clothes to staunch the bleesing. not broken, good.

"there we go, it hurts still right? but don't you feel better without all that blood on your face?" you coo like you’re soothing a startled wild animal. the same way hunters soothe a rabbit in a trap, clicking their tongue and making soft, gentle sounds until they can get a good angle at it's neck. 

and that's what you did.

he sags, as if all the fight leaves his body, in that oh-so familiar way--- you'd wave it off as a fear response (fight, flight, freeze, fawn, flop), but... it scratches at a very lovely-fresh memory, raw, still. pink and new--- shoes skidding backwards to slam himself against the harsh textured wall, making you pin him down like a tack in a conspiracy-board. he fumbles around his torso- one hand still at your wrist, padding for the strap on his shoulder.

he manages to overturn his messenger bag, scattering polaroids all over the concrete. it's you!

not you red-handed during the act of burial (it makes you reconsider his identity again). but still some... not incriminating but definitely putting the last nail on line of nails on the iceberg--- just a small knock with a hammer, is enough to split that down the middle (these metaphors are getting worse and worse)--- you wont get arrested but people will take matters into their own hands.

not fully un-rightfully. because-yes, you're a serial killer, but also no: you didn't kill those guys, so you would probably get vigilante'd for the sins of- and as the ghostface.

still enough to be usable as blackmail, a tiebreaker.

you falter, and he takes the opportunity to use the gap in your hands to breathe. “do it.” he gasps.

did he want to die? "dont worry, it'll all be over soon."

"don't. want it to last." ah, no, masochism. damn, what do they feed these journalists? maybe the jokes about their tendency to get into trouble was right.

red-blue-magenta-mix lights creeps-in near the alley like the neon-sign of a shitty night club--- as if you could get burned, you instinctively press closer against that cramped little corner in the alleyway, squeezing in like you're trying to get a spot in the dark. a patrol car. not immediate danger but definitely bad. 

this was timed way too right, planned. he probably memorized their route like the chess-player he is.

you're not playing chess, though. you always preferred social-deduction games instead, the one where cheating people and lying is encouraged. the dirtiest trick of them all, you kiss him softly on the lips for good luck. you never said you were below underhanded tactics.

"don't do this to me." he growled.

you smiled, squeezed tighter until his eyes got all sleepy, and he passes out.

you run. as un-incriminating these photos of you are, these probably incriminate him instead.

your win. 

ghost-jed: two. you: two

you're evenly matched, joy, you have a playmate.

[clownteeth6]

Sillyyyy

[theghostofroseville-thelegend]

"How many shelves can I drop on your head until you stop sniffing after me? Seriously, don't stare at a lady from behind like that!" - Valentine @c0d3-v

“I’m a man that can withstand a thousand shelves”

He says proudly. He has been bonked, hit, scratched, banged by a lot of stuff. Usually lamps and pots. Sometimes pots filled with water. He’s proud to say he can handle anything! Even shelves. Probably. He’s never gotten a shelf thrown on him.

“Also I don’t sniff, sweetheart.”

He puts his hands on his hips, sassily.

“I stalk. Sniffing is for creeps. I’m not a creep, I’m a professional Killer.”

He rolls his eyes under his mask and huffs

[charactersmashorpass4]

Danny Johnson/Ghostface (Dead By Daylight)

"He would NOT treat me right but it would be worth it"

[blot-squisher]

Hey Danny! I was wondering what was your honest opinion on the survivors and how do you feel about them. Oh yeah I was also wondering when were you planning to talk to doc about

That.

"How do I feel about the Survivors? Well... I suppose it depends on which one and the time of day. Generally speaking, I could not possible give less of a shit. I've killed them all a hundred times at least and that just ruins the fun.

That being said, I do have some... thoughts. On a few of them.

Leon's cute. I like that one jacket he's got... I kinda wish I could have stolen it... Shit, you know, I bet I could have asked the Entity for it and it would have let me have it? But I don't steal from my victims, so...

Bill is just... Oh, I love that guy. He's so old but like, not in the gross crusty way? He's got to be like, ninety years old pre-Entity, and he's still kicking! I can respect that.

Not a fan of that Zarina... But then again, I've never been a fan of journalists. So nosy. Always snooping... Stop looking at me like that, what I do is completely different!

David... I'd like to cut his hamstrings and watch him crawl around. What good are all those leg muscles now, huh?

Laurie is an enigma to me. I mean, I did my research and still didn't know she and Michael were siblings. That's insane to me. He's so much hotter... and I can say that confidenty, even though the most of his face I've ever seen was the bottom part of his jaw and like... the tip of his nose. He stabbed me right after so... yeah.

I kind of have to hate Tapp because he was a cop... And Amanda hates him and she's my bestie-" "No I'm not!"

"-so obviously I have to take her side. She loves me by the way. She says I'm her ride or die, whatever that means. Ah, right. Survivors... Hmm...

Jeff's beard. Holy cow. I'd like to steal it, but... I think that's more of a Leatherface thing. OH. No, no, no, I can't... But maybe? Nahhh, no, no...

Every time I see Dwight, I want to stab him until he's dead. I mean, have you seen that guy? He's so perfectly normal in every way! He is the epitome basic! He would have made... the perfect victim. And I do mean perfect. Like, I don't think that poor schmuck has wronged a single person to the extent that they'd actively try to kill him, much less remember him doing it. And yes, I know he poisoned his boss and all, but no one at his workplace actually knew that shit was him. The fact that I can't kill him and have him stay dead just ruins it. I can't write a flashy article about killing him when he's not going to stay dead! It ruins the impact! Ugh. I hate him.

Anyway. I like Steve. His screams are hilarious.

Aaaaand.... Quentin. I never really paid him any mind cause he's... I don't know, a regular guy? Freddy and I don't care for one another so I wasn't going to get involved in whatever the hell the situation was with him and his failed attempt at a victim. Now, though? *laughter* I have no idea what to think of him, but fuck the Entity. He's certainly an interesting one.

Oh... And as for the last part of your question. When will I be talking to Doc about... That... How about the next chapter?" "Danny, what the fuck are you talking about? Chapter of what?" "Oh, you're home early. Hmmm, don't worry about it, Doc. You'll catch up."