#i’m so new to dbd

[rorymori]

when the uhhh. When the killer is right there

[dv21]

Can’t keep his hands to himself 🤭💕👻⭐️💜

[heathenoushound]

🔥Let her COOK 🔥

[bbugsy]

I’ll bet you a million bucks james is more terrified of seeing maria in the fog than he is seeing pyramid head

[spacethemeep]

Some colored Harrys (feat. James)

[videogame-brainwyrms]

Goth witch goth witch goth witch

[neil-gaiman]

hello i just watched Desd Boy Detectives (and LOVE IT) but there is something that has been eating away at me and i must ask (though i suspect the answer is no)

so it’s seen that the new DBD takes place in the same universe as the Sandman show, and of course as you are well aware both come from DC properties. in HBO’s Doom Patrol season 3 episode 3 titled “Dead Patrol” we meet the Dead Boy Detective Agency. Doom Patrol takes place in the same universe as another DC show called Titans, which follows Dick Grayson and depicts classic DC characters such as Batman and suchlike. so. i’m sure you can see what i’m getting at here:

Does Batman/Superman/etc. exist in the universe of the Sandman netflix show and has Dream met Batman? thank you for your time

When I was writing Sandman people would ask similar questions, and I would explain that the Sandman universe and the DC universe were contiguous, but it was a very long bus journey from one to the other, and you have to change buses several times.

For the Netflix Sandman question, perhaps the DC Comics multiverse idea is the best. There's a universe in which the Dead Boy Detectives exist and met the Doom Patrol and were younger and Edwin was blond. And that's the universe where Dream has met Batman, and the Martian Manhunter as well. And it has a John Constantine in it. And then there's the universe on Netflix with Joanna Constantine in it.

[mr-bas00nist]

I’m not sure wether or not your requests are open, I couldn't find a post containing much information, but I have a good idea! Or, at least what i think is a good idea... Okay so hear me out, slashers x blind s/o, and like the slashers get upset if people dump palets or stuff on you during a chase. (Silent hill)

Taking a leap here, assuming you want pyramid head in this with the Silent Hill in parenthesis and I’m gonna assume your requesting killer reader. I’ve gotchu 😏

Contains: Pyramid Head, Danny Johnson, Micheal Myers, Amanda Young and Carmina Mora because she’s my main. Usual dbd and blood stuff.

The Artist (Carmina Mora)

-Carmina is a sweetheart to you, always has been

-She makes artwork for you with chunky paint so you can feel and imagine the patterns

-At first she was skeptical and a bit angry at the entity for bringing in a blind killer

-I mean for gods sake, you can’t see blood pools or scratch marks!

-But as she watches you, she realizes just how lethal you are

-you have incredible hearing and over senses that you don’t even need to see

-When you came out of a match one day you rubbed your head with a groan

-That new survivor Ripley slammed the hell out of you with a pallet

-Carmina walked over to you concerned as she observed your state

-You reassured her you were fine but she was furious

-How dare she! You didn’t deserve that!

-next match she made sure to mori the hell out of Ripley

-The crows needed to eat after all

The Ghostface (Danny Johnson)

-Danny at first couldn’t decide whether to make fun of you or not

-he also was angry at the entity for bringing in a blind killer but he didn’t care in the way Carmina did

-He always kept a close eye on every killer just to see if he had any competition

-he was a bit aggravated that he began watching you expecting nothing much

-oh was he surprised when he saw how you functioned

-all your senses were heightened and in tune with everything around you

-you were a great listener and that intrigued him

-one day he began listening to you and talking with you

-he actually liked you

-you listened to him ramble for hours and could recite anything he could say

-one day after a particularly rough trial you were snarling in anger

-Danny notices this and quickly came over to check on you

-Fucking David and his stupid insults all match

-he pissed you off so bad you lost sight of the gene and everything else

-but don’t worry, Danny will make sure to gut him just for you and describe every photo of his corpse in grave detail

The Executioner (Pyramid Head)

-Pyramid could sense your power so he never underestimated you

-He always watched you outside of trials

-you guys grew closer just relishing in each other comfort

-when you’d talk he’d listen and when you weren’t talking you two would just sit in silence

-When you came out of a match with shakier breathing than usual he could sense immediately what happened

-entitled survivors annoying you, he’ll take care of it, he is the executioner after all

The Pig (Amanda Young)

-Amanda’s intrigued by you

-she’s actually the first to address you

-you two hit it off immediately

-unlike Danny though your the one who talks more and she listens

-She’ll listen to you ramble while she tweaks her bear traps for each match letting out soft hums and nods to make sure you knew she was listening

-Amanda actually developed the habit of helping you out with little things

-she knew you were perfectly capable of doing everything but she wanted to just feel like she was helping

-When you came back from a trial with a lot more blood then usual she didn’t say anything

-she took your coat and outerwear and just simply cleaned it for you

-it’s the least she could do for you since you helped her with her loneliness

A/N: Sorry I’ve been gone for so long! Life’s been busy!

[aliidarling]

first time requesting 😋😋

But i went through all your danny ones bro please i luv how crazy you make him.

I would like a wesker one, smuttiest thing you could think of 😫🙏🙏 Yk how sable has the new swimsuit cosmetic? Basically Mc/reader? (idk how you would describe) Runs into wesker in their cute bathing suit 😼 pls abd thanks for being my source of entertainment at 5 am

HAHAH thank you so muchhh!!! i try to make danny as canon-like as i can :)) ive never done wesker before but i can just for u😝

i’m not very educated on wesker lore, i’ve only played re2,3,4,6,& 7 which is basically the games without him 💀 so excuse me if i don’t write him that well! but i love dbd/stars wesker 🤗

the beach

ALBERT WESKER x fem!reader

nsfw content — pls scroll if uncomfortable!!

summary; you’re spawned into the trial wearing a cute swimsuit and albert likes it veryyy much!

warnings; pervy wesker, dub con kinda, fingering, mean weaker, male masturbation, fist fucking, no penetration but he cums on your pussy :3

from the moment you spawned into the trial, you felt the cold air brush against parts of your body it should not be available to. why could you feel the wind blowing against your ass? this had to be some sick joke.

it was like the entity was laughing at you. you looked down at your body to be met with the sight of a cute little bikini— a pink plaid set with strawberries littered over the two thin piece of clothing. the tiny straps holding up the bikini were flimsy and tied into little bows at each side of your hips with two matching ones at your shoulders.

this couldn’t get any worse, you thought.

you were thankful to spawn alongside your fellow girlfriends, feng-min, yui, and claire. all their eyes immediately cast to your outfit, feng-mins cheeks going pink as she gasped softly.

“oh! you must be so cold—“ she says immediately, scooting closer to shamelessly ogle your breasts. you blush and push her away with a playful grumble.

“let’s just get started on those generators..”

you all find the nearest generator and quickly get to work, fingers fiddling with the wires. a few times you accidentally get sparked by it but never bad enough that it causes an explosion. you’re on your highest alert, hoping the killer is one of those mindless monsters instead of the human ones, like ghostface or the legion. the mastermind probably wouldn’t even bat an eye at you, he’s so stuck up his own ass he probably isn’t even into others.

after a short minute of you all working together, the generator finally pops and the bright light begins to shine, alerting the killer of your location. it doesn’t even take five seconds for the chase music to begin, the loud heart beat taunting you.

it was as if the entity was making fun of you today, bullying you relentlessly. you wondered if she was sitting in the clouds eating popcorn, giggling at your facial expression dropping once you saw the mastermind scanning his surroundings.

once his eyes set on you, you immediately yelled at the girls to run and work on the other generators. you’ll loop him for as long as you can, you told them. you don’t have much time to react before the blonde man lunges at you harshly from afar, missing you by a few inches. you rush off to the side and break out into a sprint towards a jungle gym.

“don’t waste my time, deary. you’re wearing a slutty swim suit, you think you’ll last before it gets caught on a twig?” he mocks, his deep voice making you shiver. you hug yourself at his words, scowling as you run around a pallet with him, trying to greed the pallet.

“don’t be a pervert!” you scold, running pass the pallet to trick him, only to double back and drop it on his face last second once he’s standing close enough. a guttural groan is heard from him as he stumbles back, his sunglasses falling off his face. he glares at you.

the few seconds he’s caught off guard your eyes graze over his figure, admiring his rare outfit. it was a uniform of some sort, blue button up with a tactical vest and black slacks. his sleeves were cuffed and tugged up to the crook of his elbow, showing his veiny fore arms and expensive looking wrist watch. you could bet it had a dozen cracks on it by now.

“you haven’t gotten laid in what, months? years? no wonder you’re so uptight!” you yell. “maybe some pussy would do you a favor!” you shriek, still feeling a little offended over his comment on how slutty you looked. as if you had a choice wearing this!

“you’ll regret those words.” he hisses, lunging towards you and managing to grasp ahold of your body, throwing you over his shoulder roughly. you squeal, thrashing around as he starts to lead you to the secluded basement. great, you had really pissed him off.

you’re caught by surprise when he throws you onto the cold floor without any care, a small yelp leaving your throat as you try to stand up. he immediately pushes down on your back with his foot, crushing you into the floor. he grinds his boot into your soft skin, admiring how much of your body was revealed by the flimsy bikini.

“did you anger the entity, darling? no wonder she cursed you with such a scandalous outfit, your frustrating personality must of done what it always does.” he mocks, feeling his pants tighten at the sight of you on the floor under his boot, your pretty skin dirty.

“oh, fuck you! you’re so god damn annoying i swear to—“ you start, getting interrupted when you suddenly feel his boot shove itself between your thighs, rubbing down against your bikini bottom. you squeak, your body jolting at the unexpected friction.

“what? what’s wrong?” he coo’d, a cocky grin on his stupidly handsome face, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. he grinds his boot against your clothed pussy, relishing in the noises you suppressed. he could hear the small gasp leaving your system.

“you pervert, get your boot off my..” you whimper, voice cracking. you blink in surprise as he kneels down behind you, admiring your body from his angle. your butt was pretty much in his face, in your hands and knees. you gulped hard, feeling humiliated. and slightly aroused.

“what? what’d you say?” he tchs, large fingers tugging at the straps that hold your bikini together, the little bow threatening to give out. one little pull of his fingers and your bare butt and pussy would be on display for him.

soon enough he pulls on the thin strap and it falls off your hips, discarding onto the floor. you gasp as the cold air brushes against you, clenching down subconsciously.

“i hate you.” you whimper, pouting as he runs his fingers over your glistening pussy, his other rustling within his clothes. you heard wrinkling and the unzipping of his slacks.

he pulls his half hard-on out, pre cum dripping off the firm tip. he was extremely turned on by the sight of you bent over with your butt in the air line a dog, pouty lips and flushed cheeks. you looked so adorable.

“shut your lips and stay quiet. i can’t have anyone seeing me with you.” he spits out your name like you were a disgrace to be upon his tongue and you can’t help but feel a little offended. you weren’t that bad of a person!

“what is that supposed to mean?!” you gawk at him, pressing your lips together once he swats at your butt, silencing you. you go back to looking down at the basement floor as he smoothly slides two of his glove-clad fingers into your hole, watching how you take him in perfectly. it was a small squeeze but he manages, his other hand wrapping around his cock to lazily pump.

the precum drips down his cock onto his hand, a husky moan leaving his throat as his head leans back, bathing in the pleasure of the little fantasy he has in his head— fucking your tight pussy. but he knows he can’t achieve that, not here, that is. maybe another day. and he didn’t want you to know how damn desperate he was to be inside you, rutting against your butt like a’ animal in heat. he’d rather die then let you see him in such a submissive and vulnerable state, pussy drunk.

“cum for me, dearest.” he rasps, fingering you harder and deeper in attempts to push you over the edge. your orgasm takes you by surprise as he grinds hard against a very deep part of you, making you bite down to conceal your shriveled up scream. white flashes in your eye sight and you go limp, face down with your ass hanging in the air, cum dripping down your soft thighs and onto the cold concrete floor.

he pulls away with a gasp, focusing on fisting his cock now. he clenches his fist and slides it up and down at a rough pace, low deep noises leaving his throat. he positions his head right at your entrance, giving himself a few last pumps. he shoots out his load— aiming for your pretty hole, mixing his fluids with yours.

“ooh, that’s a pretty sight, doll.” he croons, panting. he fixes up his pants, watching how you lay on the floor like a dumb puppy, catching your own breath after that hard fingering he gave you.

“don’t be pathetic, dear. i didn’t even go that hard.” he scoffs, standing up to his full height, towering over you. he gives you a nasty stink eye before walking off, leaving you in your glory on the ground with your bikini by your side.

[seiya-starsniper]

Six Degrees of Separation

Rating: Teen || Chapters: 1/4 || Word Count 1.4k

Summary:

The Dead Boy Detectives run into a familiar pub while out on a case, and Crystal has to contend with an unfortunate event from her past.

Hob Gadling wasn't planning on adopting three teenagers and a full grown woman, but stranger things have happened in his long centuries of life.

Read here on Tumblr, or over on AO3

dedicated to @softest-punk for making me emotional about Hob adopting the kids in DBD 💖

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

“In here!” Edwin shouts, gesturing frantically at the entrance to a pub that looks vaguely familiar to Crystal. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have much time to wonder before the banshee chasing them lets out a blood curdling scream. Crystal rushes in with Charles right behind her, pushing the door and slamming it shut behind her. Thankfully the pub seems to be completely empty except for one man. 

A man who looked extremely pissed off to see them.

“Oh bloody hell, fuck no, not you, out!” the older man shouts, moving out from behind the bar and looking ready to chase them out by force if necessary. Crystal braces herself, glancing around frantically for some sort of back door that she can bolt to if necessary. She’s pretty sure she can outrun him.

Charles and Edwin however, are a different story.

“Hob, it’s us!” Charles exclaims, throwing up his hands in an attempt to show no harm.

“We’re sorry for bringing a ghost to your door, Mr Gadling,” Edwin adds. “If you’ll just let me borrow one of your books to get rid of this banshee, we’ll be out of your hair.” 

“Not you two, her,” the man, Hob (what the hell kind of name was that?) growls, pointing at Crystal accusingly. Edwin and Charles turn to her in shock, and Crystal is about to protest that she has no idea what this man is on about, but then the memory of how she knows Hob Gadling comes flooding back to her.

The pub they’d run into was The New Inn and Crystal had almost burned it down last year because some girl she hated at school had come here for her 18th birthday. With all of Crystal’s friends, sans Crystal. Ex-friends now, since Crystal had tried to burn the place down with the whole party still inside. Hob had, unsurprisingly, pressed charges, and it took a lot of money from her parents to make everything go away.

“I’m sorry!” Crystal yells, just as the banshee screeches and slams its body against the door behind them. It lights up an iridescent blue, a warding against ghosts. Of course Crystal had to go and fuck up the one supernatural relationship she had because she was an idiot asshole last year. 

“I know this isn’t a great time, but I’m kind of a different person now?” Crystal says, having no idea how to even begin to explain the weird circumstances of the last month. “I swear what my past self did isn't who I am now,” she adds, also raising her hands to show she means no harm. 

“She’s part of the Dead Boy Detectives Agency, mate,” Charles interjects, while Edwin nods furiously in agreement. “Please don’t throw her out!”

The banshee lets out another screech and slams itself against the door, rattling the frame so hard that Crystal’s afraid it might fly off the hinges at any moment. Whatever ward Hob had placed, it wasn’t going to hold out for that much longer.

“What the hell is going on?!” a familiar voice cries out, and then Jenny Green of all people is coming out of what Crystal assumes is the kitchen. She’s also brandishing a butcher knife, because why would any of that change now that she lives across the pond?

“Jenny?!” Charles and Edwin yell.

“Oh fuck,” the older woman curses, glancing back and forth between the three of them and Hob. Crystal really hopes they haven’t just gotten Jenny fired. Finding a job had been tough enough for her when they'd relocated, and she had refused any help financially from Crystal.

“You know them?!” Hob asks, shock clear in his voice.

“It’s a long story,” Jenny grumbles, then screams when the banshee throws itself against the door again. “What the fuck, why did you lead a ghost here? ”

The door rattles and creaks, and the ward around the pub shimmers and vibrates angrily, which seems to finally prompt Hob to action. He straightens his back, rubs a hand over his face, and then takes one, two, three deep breaths before he looks them all over appraisingly. 

“Jenny, get the salt from the back,” Hob orders, gesturing her back to the kitchen. “The iron knives should be on the shelf next to them. Edwin, you know where the tomes are,” he adds pointing upwards, likely towards a room on the second floor of the pub. Jenny and Edwin nod quietly before disappearing to their designated posts, leaving Crystal and Charles alone with Hob.

“Right, so since when have the Dead Boys gotten themselves involved with trust fund brats?” Hob asks, still eyeing Crystal warily as if he expects her to pull out a lighter at any moment. 

“Since this trust fund brat got possessed by a demon and got her memories stolen,” Crystal answers, wincing when she realizes how harsh that sounds. “Sorry. I just recently got them back and it's been a weird time. I really am sorry though. For like, nearly burning this place to the ground cause I was mad.”

“You did what? ” Charles cries out, his mouth agape. “Please tell me that was all David’s doing.”

Crystal scrunches up her face and then shakes her head. “I wish it was, but no. Just plain old shitty Crystal,” she answers truthfully.

Hob looks between the two of them, then sighs, his expression softening. 

“Look, clearly you’ve done some soul searching and I am the last person who should be allowed to hold a grudge against someone who’s done some bad things,” he says, then gestures to Charles. “If the boys vouch for you, then I’m willing to bury the hatchet. All right, Ms Von-Hovercraft?”

“Please just call me Crystal,” Crystal pleads. She really hated being referred to by her surname. It still felt weird and foreign to her, after everything she had gone through. Hob huffs, and this time when he looks at her, there isn’t a shred of contempt in his expression.

“Yeah okay. Crystal,” he says warmly. “You can call me Hob.”

Crystal wants to ask where the hell the name Hob comes from, because she’s pretty sure she remembers his name being Richard , but before she can say anything, Edwin and Jenny come back and Hob turns his full attention to taking care of the banshee that’s trying to get past the wards he has around the entire pub. 

“You’re lucky Tuesday’s a slow night,” Hob says, before he starts flipping through the tome. “Jenny, Crystal, make a salt circle by the tables over there,” he adds, pointing to his left. “You’re going to need to lead her there so we can trap her.”

Crystal and Jenny make as large of a circle as they can, pouring generous amounts of salt into the floor. When they’re done, Hob instructs them to the front of the pub, where the door is still rattling and glowing angrily. Edwin and Charles are standing next to Hob, Charles with his cricket bat out, and Edwin and Hob ready to chant the spell within the tome. 

“When I count to three, open the door and run like hell into the salt circle,” Hob tells them. “One, two, THREE!”

Crystal throws open the door and both she and Jenny cover their ears as they run towards the salt circle. The banshee’s cries are even louder now that she’s inside the pub, but their plan works. She follows them straight into the circle, then screeches again in anger once she realizes she cannot follow them out. Her long hands try to grab for Jenny’s apron, but Charles materializes right at the circle’s edge to bat her hand away. 

Hob and Edwin start chanting some spell in what Crystal assumes is Latin, and the banshee screeches at an even louder volume than before. The salt circle alights a bright gold, and Crystal and Jenny are practically thrown backwards by the force of the magic taking effect.

The banshee lets out one more high pitched scream, and then her dark grey dress suddenly becomes stark white, dark and wet black hair paling slowly to a soft light brown. When the banshee lifts her face, her eyes are no longer sunken and black, but wide and bright green. 

She’s beautiful, now that she’s no longer in pain.

The Night Nurse shows up shortly afterwards, collecting the woman and gently reassuring her that she’s going to a better place. She looks at Hob like she’s offended by his very existence, which the man takes in stride and cheerfully waves her off, telling her to say hello to her boss for him. 

“Right then,” Hob says after the banshee and the Night Nurse have left. “Now that that’s taken care of, care to explain to me what the bloody hell is the connection with you lot?”

[apollodarling-writes]

omg i had a thought about dbd ghostface. mdni !!

cw : yandere themes, perv danny, non-consensual kissing, danny dry humps you, non-consensually nsfw themes, non-consensual picture taking, danny forces an orgasm out of you, slight knife-play, danny calls the reader bunny, afab anatomy but no prns used, danny cuts open readers shirt, implied murder of other survivors,

“thaaats it, bunny. cry f’me.” danny’s eyes lock onto yours as he shifts to grab his polaroid. his breathing becomes labored as he lifts his mask angling the camera to get the both of you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. a broad grin stretched across his features, sweat dripping down his temple as he admires you.

“pl—please…. let me go.” you cry.

“let you go? but bunny, don’t you enjoy our time together?” he sneers, trailing the cool blade of his bowie knife along your exposed flesh. his fingers roughly grip your jaw, molding his lips to yours in a feverish display of his obvious affection. his lips trail along your jaw and throat, groaning as you try to squirm away from his onslaught.

danny presses your shoulders down, grinding his half-hard cock into the soft meat of your thigh. he angles his hips in a way that causes a wave of pleasure to wash over you, a grin splitting his cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“y’liked that didn’t you, bunny?” he groans, rutting his hips into you faster, his head dropping to the curve of your throat and pressing open mouthed kisses to your bloodied and sweat-slicked flesh. “just be a good bunny and take it.”

you soon feel a familiar sensation pooling in your tummy, panties unwillingly sticky with arousal, and you couldn’t feel more disgusted with yourself. you feel the tip of his blade slice open your shirt, tracing what you assume to be the letters of his name on your stomach.

“bunny,” danny murmurs, “i’m gonna cum. need y’to cum with me.”

you shake your head, a sob ripping from your throat as he sinks his knife into your thigh. “cum. or i’ll make sure your next match is hell.”

danny brushes his cockhead against your clit in a way that has your back arching and a poorly muffled whine leaving your lips — cumming with the man that has made your new life hell.

“that’s a good bunny, cum f’me.” he growls, his rutting slowly coming to stop. danny watches with interest as tears stream down your cheeks, his tongue darting out to lick them away.

“so pretty.” danny’s eyes soften ever so slightly as he leans down to kiss your lips before throwing you over his shoulder. you find no will to struggle against him — you knew you would be hooked and killed by the entity immediately. that’s just how danny rolled.

to your surprise, danny walks right past every hook he comes across, seemingly searching for something in particular. was he going to let you get hatch? was he really going to let you escape? sure enough, danny drops you right in front of hatch, stealing another kiss as compensation.

“bye bye, little bunny. i look forward to our next trial together.” he waves at you in a way that has you scrambling to exit through the hatch, a frown tugging at his lips as he pulls his mask back down.

[airbendertendou]

lonely heart ♡ danny johnson

soulmate au where the first time you have skin to skin contact, your body glows & is stamped w their handprint - it looks like a birthmark.

cw ; typical dbd warnings [blood n gore] ; reader offers ghostie a nude pic in exchange for freedom ; might b ooc but idc <3 ; how danny looks is up to you!

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

——♡——

The heat of the campfire brushes against your face, warming your skin just enough to forget the biting wind. Nancy is beside you, falling asleep where she sits, nodding her head forward before she snaps out of it. Across the fire, Feng is chatting idly with Dwight and Steve, Leon chiming in when he felt like it. 

The bench-like-log you’re sitting on shifts as Nea takes a seat, letting out a huff as she settles. “It’s been quiet recently,” she says, “too quiet if you ask me.”

“I’m a little wary,” you agree. Your eyes scope the woods surrounding the survivors as if someone is going to pop out any second. They wouldn’t, though — the killers kept away from the light of the fire and never wandered any closer than they were allowed. “I wonder if something’s happened.”

Nea rolls her eyes, “we wouldn’t be so lucky.” 

You grin at her pessimism, shoving her lightly with your left shoulder. Nea snickers as Nancy jumps awake once more, jolting in her sleep before yawning. A faded, gray fog settles over the camp and with it, five more survivors make their way around the campfire. You know what that means — a new trial is bound to start at any second.

Readying yourself, your muscles tense and your heart rate picks up, preparing to sprint when the time comes. A darkened, indigo-tinted fog wraps around you — it’s cold and loud as it grasps you from the campfire. You blink and then you’re in Haddonfield. 

Taking in a deep breath, you shuffle quickly to the nearest generator. Feng smiles as she passes by you stealthily, clicking her flashlight at you a few times. The area is terrifyingly quiet — it must mean your killer this round is a watcher. You puff up your cheeks as you mis-wire something, moving away from the generator that’s popped.

A scream echoes in the distance — it sounds too close, so you take off.

Momentarily, you hide in a dusty bedroom. You peek from the walls, not spotting anyone other than the back of Leon’s bulletproof vest. Another look from the room — another scream hits the air. 

Finding another generator was easy enough, but trying to stay hidden was a little more difficult. Your fingers curl and tug on wires, the smell of oil and burning wires hitting you the more you twiddle with them. Claudette hovers beside you, checking to see if you need any healing. Deeming you healthy, she flops to the other side of the generator.

“It’s Ghostface,” she breathes. Looking over her shoulder warily, she gulps as she looks back to you. “Already got Feng and Dwight. Only one gen’s done ; I’ve been hooked.”

You pause your wiring, confusion building up in you. “I haven’t even seen him yet.”

Claudette pauses too, looking over you with a furrowed eyebrow. “If we don’t make it, then win for us. Yeah?”

The generator pops with completion, lighting up for a second and exposing your location. You take off in the opposite direction Claudette did, hopping through a window and out through the backdoor. A flash of black catches your eye — your killer has finally shown himself.

You decide to buy everyone else some time. Hopefully, with a little distraction, a few more generator’s could be fixed.

Sneaking behind him, you let out a small “psst!” and wait for his attention to fall on you. He whips around, white mask greeting you. Walking towards a closet, you point to it a few times. Ghostface looks from the closet, to you, and back again. You wiggle your hand, insisting, “someone’s in there!”

Curiously, the closet door creaks open and Ghostface sees it’s empty. He turns to face you slowly and you’re already holding back giggles. A chase is pursued — something you struggle to do with all of your laughter. He swings his knife haphazardly, not really aiming at you, but not allowing you to get away with your joke either.

“Heheh—ah!” After a successful swing, a cut slashes across your arm. Blood seeps from it as you fall to the ground, laughter still spilling from your lips as you roll around. Ghostface shakes his head down at you — as if he’s disappointed in your joke — before he saunters off to find his next victim. You frown as your laughter comes to a stop, “well, now what?”

Another generator pops and you think this is it. We’re so close to going home — well, what you call home now. Letting out a sigh, you sit up and wrap your new cut with a bandage. You hear a squeal, then a scream. Seems our Ghostie is agitated now ; ready to get the trial over with. 

Chills flow up your spine, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead as the feeling of being watched overpowers you. That can’t be good. You stiffen, looking through the corner of your eyes without turning your head. Hopefully, you’ll see him with your peripheral vision if he’s near. Otherwise— you didn’t want to think of the other option.

Sneakily, you tip-toe into a nearby house, hoping to wait out the feeling. But, you know you won’t. One thing about Ghostface is once his eyes are set on you, you’re not escaping. A noise catches your attention in the silence — the sound of a latch unlocking. 

The hatch — you must be the only one left. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you creep along the street, keeping an eye out for the hatch. You see it — it’s right in your sights and your heart rate picks up. Shaky breaths escape your parted lips as you glance around the empty street. Coast is clear — time to make a run for it.

Until a white mask phases in out of nowhere, directly on the other side of the hatch.

“Oh, come on,” you whine. Ghostface tilts his head at you, waving his knife teasingly. Your arm stings with the shine of it, bandage now being colored a deep red. “I’m so close to ending this!” He continues to stare your way silently. “Don’t you think this is a little unfair?”

“That’s the game, doll.” You’ve never heard him speak before now. A static-y, modulated voice isn’t what you expect to hear. He creeps closer, no longer directly across from you. “That’s what makes this fun.”

You purse your lips, fingers knotting together at the edge of your edge. “Okay, how about this? You let me take hatch, and I’ll let you take a shirtless picture of me. My face isn’t allowed to be in it, though!”

Ghostface bounced where he stood, an excited giggle echoing in his mask as he immediately agreed. Puffing up your cheeks, you let out a breath before nodding to yourself in encouragement. A polaroid camera has replaced the blood-soaked knife in his hand — even with the weapon gone from sight, dread flushes through you.

“Okay,” you say to yourself, “this is no big deal.”

Without another thought, your fingers clench the end of your shirt and raise it to cover your face. Your skin prickles with the wind, goosebumps raising at the new sensation. With bated breath, you wait to hear the shutter go off — a click, another giggle, the hatch closing ; anything. All that’s there is silence.

And then a leather glove is wrapped around your wrist.

Jumping at the sudden touch, your shirt falls back into place as you take a step back. Only a sliver of skin is free from the glove — just enough for his skin to brush against yours.

A golden sheen takes over you, settling where your bodies meet. In a panic induced state, you’re pushed to the ground as Ghostface hovers over top of you. Shaky, shallow breaths hit his mask as his camera is settled to the right of your head. Slowly, he peels a glove off and reaches for you.

Where his now bare hand meets, a light follows. Right on your wrist, the shape of his fingers is imprinted forever, as if it were a birthmark you were born with. It was supposed to be a myth — a tale shared between hopeless romantic’s. Soulmates weren’t supposed to actually exist.

Except, yours apparently did. In a realm you couldn’t escape ; killing you and your fellow survivors on a continuous loop. You were stuck there — stuck with a murderer as your soulmate until forevermore. 

Ruffled hair is exposed to the wind as Ghostface unmasks himself, his pupils practically hearts as he stares down at you. His eyes search your face, never settling on one particular spot as he drinks you in entirely. You feel as he lets out a breath ; feel his shoulders sag with some kind of relief as he grabs one of your hands. He leads it to his face and lets out another sigh when his skin glows, the shape of your hand left on the left side of his face.

“Mine,” his voice is soft. You can’t stop looking at him — can’t stop staring at your hand that’s been imprinted onto his cheek. “You’re all mine. Made just for me.”

You can’t tell if the feeling swelling inside of you is dread or excitement. But, you let him pull you closer anyways ; allow him to hug you as he pleases. This could come in handy, after all. Maybe.

——♡—— lets ignore that valentines day is over already teehee <3 i hope my version of ghostie is okay, idk how well i write him </3 airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[videogame-brainwyrms]

Me jamming out to the iron maiden song for the lobby music as I enter another game of torture

[lostwarllock]

My boy keefe might not even have the power to get me through the dbd pain—BUT here he is (once again inspired by the new portraits)

Tag list:

@aspenaspenaspenaspenaspen @thatrandomlemononyourcounter1 @stars-and-stuff (why is it not working I’m sorry—it’s not showing the account) @myfairkatiecat @wow-youre-so-pretty

[soapyghostie]

hiiii can i req a fem reader x dbd ghostface and legion of how would they react to readers backstory? before the fog, reader was a highly skilled and deadly merc (she doesn't mess with innocent ppl tho) who got nerfed by the entity 🙁 and became a new survivor, they found out all abt this when reader was telling her stories at the camp, and it also explains how she's so good at not getting killed pls and ty <333

I thought this request would be fun to try something a little different since it’s a very detailed request. I worked all afternoon on this request so I hope y’all enjoy. Now I’m going to go take a brain break…

The Ghost Face/Danny Johnson

In the desolated realm of the Entity, where the fog shrouds every corner and the survivors’ desperate screams echo through the air, a mysterious connection blossomed between Danny Johnson, the Ghost Face killer, and you. You are a resilient survivor whose past echoed with tales of life lived on edge. 

One evening, as the survivors gathered around the flickering campfire in the cold embrace of the Entity’s realm, you decided to share your story. The glow from the fire danced across your face, casting shadows that mirrored the secrets you held. 

Danny sat in the shadows, his iconic Ghost Face mask concealing any discernible emotion. As you began to recount your life before the fog, Danny’s curiosity intensified. 

You were a highly skilled and deadly mercenary, known for your precise tactics and an unyielding code that forbade harm to the innocent. Your reputation on Earth was both feared and respected, a shadowy figure who navigated the murky waters of morally ambiguous contracts. You described your missions with vivid detail, the adrenaline-fueled pursuits, and the high-stakes negotiations. Danny listened intently, recognizing a certain darkness in your tales that resonated with his own experiences. 

As you spoke, the survivors marveled at your tales, their eyes widening at the realization that this seemingly ordinary woman had once danced on the razor’s edge of life and death. But Danny, he remained silent, the mask concealing any emotion that may have betrayed his thoughts. 

You continued, detailing the night you found yourself ensnared by the Entity’s web. The mercenary who faced down countless dangers suddenly found yourself in a realm where the line between predator and prey blurred, and only survival mattered. The Ghost Face, still concealed in the shadows, felt an odd connection to your story. 

He admired the strength and resilience that allowed you to escape so many trials, but something deeper stirred within him. 

When you delved into the intricacies of your survival techniques during trials, Danny’s attention sharpened. He recognized the cunning strategies she employed – a result of her mercenary past. It explained why you never faltered, consistently evading the clutches of killers and outsmarting the Entity’s malevolent designs. 

After your story concluded, a heavy silence slung over the camp. Danny remained in his stoic silence, contemplating the revelations that had unfolded. He has never anticipated a connection with a survivor that transcended the typical predator-prey dynamic: an obsession. 

In the following trials, Danny found himself observing you with newfound respect. A shared understanding passed between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of the shadows y’all both carried. As y’all navigated the fog together, Danny couldn’t help but feel a mysterious kinship with you, the mercenary survivor, who had faced down the darkness and emerged, still fighting.

The Legion/F.J.S.J

In the eerie realm between dimensions, where the Entity’s grasp manipulated time and reality itself, a new survivor emerged. This survivor was you who bore a mysterious past that surpassed the boundaries of the fog and was sought after by none other than The Legion – Frank, Julie, Susie, and Joey. 

The campfire flickered as the survivors gathered, each harboring their own twisted tales of suffering. Among them, you, a young woman, stood out. Your eyes held a glimpse of a world far beyond the fog, haunting memories of a life as a highly skilled and deadly mercenary. One night, curiosity seized The Legion. As the survivors shared their stories to break the monotony of their torment, you decided to unveil your past. Your voice, tinged with both sorrow and strength, resonated through the chilling air. 

Before the fog claimed you, you had navigated the shadows of society, dealing in a world of cutthroat mercenaries. Your skills were unmatched, your reputation whispered in dark corners. You spoke of stealth, precision, and a strict moral code that forbade harm to the innocent. The Legion listened intently, their interest piqued by tales that mirrored their own descent into darkness.

As you recounted your final mission before being ensnared by the Entity, The Legion exchanged glances, recognizing a kinship in the shadows. They saw echoes of their own stories in your struggles against a fate that twisted you into something beyond your control. 

You detailed your transition from a deadly operative survivor trapped in an endless cycle of trials. Your survival instincts, honed by years of dangerous missions, allowed you to navigate the fog with grace that often eluded your fellow captives. It explained why you danced on the edge of sacrifice during trials, evading the killers’ grasp with an uncanny ability.  

Frank, the charismatic leader of The Legion, felt a peculiar connection to you. He saw in you a kindred spirit, someone who, like them, had faced the darkness head-on. Susie and Joey, normally reserved and mysterious, found a silent respect for the mercenary survivor who shared their pain in the silent campfire tales. 

The Legion, usually united in their chaotic pursuit of chaos, now found themselves touched by your story. Each had faced the Entity’s cruel hand differently, but your resilience left an indelible mark on their collective consciousness. 

In the trials that followed, The Legion observed you with a newfound understanding. They saw a survivor who, despite the Entity's attempts to break you, clung to your humanity. You had faced the shadows of the world before the fog, and in the twisted realm of the Entity, you continue to defy the darkness.  

As they hunted survivors, The Legion couldn’t help but feel a strange connection to you. Through you, they found peace in shared pain and a flicker of hope that defied the unrelenting despair of the fog. And so, in the shifting shadows of the trials, you and The Legion danced to the haunting rhythm of survival, bound by the echoes of y’all’s shared pasts.

[zombiboon]

RE Boys Coming Home to a Sleeping S/O

This has been a dead ass account, with the last post being literal months old now and about a whole different fandom. I recently got into Resident Evil (Thanks DBD for adding my new husband Wesker) and while my ass is struggling to understand the lore outside the basics, I’m trying and I’m also gonna write these characters anyways. Are they going to be OOC? Probably. But take some of the RE boys coming home to a sleeping S/O.

if there's a guy you want not in here, it's likely because I know so little of him. I'm still getting into the series (I'm only up to RE5 as of now).

GN!Reader, Fluff, Not at all edited, Likely OOC portrayals

Characters: Albert Wesker, Chris Redfield, Leon S. Kennedy, Carlos Oliveira

ALBERT WESKER

It’s a common sight for Wesker to come home to you sleeping, considering he works late almost if not all nights. Hell, he’s surprised whenever you’re not sleeping by the time he returns home. 

If you’ve fallen asleep on the couch - either from watching TV or maybe even waiting for him to come home -, in the beginning of the relationship, he may just leave a blanket on you so you’re not cold, but further into the relationship, he’ll carry you back to the bedroom.

He’s not one for cuddling either, but he will occasionally spoon you. It won’t start out like that, however, it’s more of a subconscious thing he does while asleep next to you. He may fall asleep next to you, arms at his side (he goes to bed face up, the arms at the side makes him look like a robot), but you’ll wake up with one arm loosely hanging around your waist and his warmth comforting you from behind - if you wake up before him.

CHRIS REDFIELD

Another man who usually works late. Little too attached to his job, it may as well be his second partner - right after you, of course. 

He usually comes home to you getting ready for bed but sometimes, he’ll come home when you’re already in bed. Though he’d probably never admit it aloud, he does feel a little saddened he can’t chat with you when he comes home, but he’s also a patient and reasonable man, he knows it’d be ridiculous to request you stay up even later just so he can have a brief conversation with you.

He does his best in keeping quiet while getting ready for bed but by the time he adds his weight to the mattress, you’re already turning your head to greet him drowsily. He usually apologises with a quick peck on the lips. Immediately urges you to go back to bed as he shifts into his spot beside you.

He enjoys hugging you tightly more than spooning you, to be honest. He likes embracing you and keeping you close to his chest. But if you manage to sleep through the ruckus of him getting ready for bed, he’ll settle for spooning you.

LEON S. KENNEDY

Really only ever comes home late when out with friends or coming back from a mission. He has a small habit of uttering a tired, “I’m home” to a darkened house whenever you’ve already gone to bed. 

He’s usually exhausted by the time he comes home late and will immediately book it for the bedroom. He’ll crawl into bed and if you’re a light sleeper, you’ll wake up to Leon clinging to you from behind. He’ll apologise for waking you if you greet him. 

He’s got a deathgrip around your stomach as he nuzzles into your back. If he doesn’t, please spoon him. He adores it.

If he’s not tired, he still lays in bed with you, silently admiring you. Occasionally, he’ll brush a few strands of hair out of your face just to keep cherishing your features with a smile. After a few minutes, it gets him completely knocked out for the rest of the night.

CARLOS OLIVEIRA

(this mans last name is so impossible for me to type correctly half the time. curse you second "i")

The type to despise coming home late. He’s exhausted, with his work, his limbs are sore, and he doesn’t get to see you. So when he comes home to a dark house, he’s a little defeated. But hey, he gets to see you - you’d be sleeping, but it’s still you. 

He’s surprisingly stealthy in slipping into bed, so much so you get jumpscared awake by his touch. 

And he’s a cuddly bastard, immediately swinging his arms around you and pulling you back into him as he peppers the back of your ear and neck with soft kisses. He usually keeps you up with a small and whispered conversation, just to check in with you before letting you drift back off into a deep slumber. 

He’ll just nuzzle his face into the back of your neck and when his tight grip loosens just a smidge, you’ll know he’s passed out sleeping - if his snores didn’t alert you to that.

reblogs are greatly appreciated <3