poloparkdental

[cruelestcolor]

killer chat blinkies. credit not needed but appreciated.

[alemonyoyo]

Killer Chat Pyjama Partay!!!!!!

Inspired by the ask from the @rosesrotofficial tumblr.

[elysiaheaven]

Killer Chat main cast in the bedroom? 🫣

This was so fun to write thank you for the request!

RONIN - The DEVIL'S BUTCHER

Ronin may act nonchalant, but the moment you’re in bed, he drapes himself over you like a heavy blanket. Whether it’s his arm slung lazily across your waist or his whole body practically pinning you down, he needs the contact. If you try to move? Forget it—he’ll grumble, “Where d’you think you’re going?” and pull you back tighter.

No matter the situation, Ronin is a sucker for forehead kisses. If you're curled up against him, he’ll drop lazy kisses on the top of your head without even thinking about it. He finds it hilarious how quickly they make you blush and always teases you, whispering, “Blushy already, huh? How cute.”

Ronin sleeps like a tangled mess. His legs are always draped over yours, and sometimes you wake up to find his arm tucked under your neck or his head buried in your shoulder. Even if it gets too warm, he’ll stubbornly cling to you like a koala, mumbling, "You’re not escaping me."

Running his fingers through your hair is one of his favorite things—whether you're awake or asleep. He claims it’s "just to keep his hands busy," but really, it's soothing for him. Sometimes, he’ll absentmindedly braid tiny sections or twirl strands around his finger while lost in thought.

As much as Ronin plays up his confident, devil-may-care persona, he’s occasionally struck by waves of doubt, especially when dysphoria hits. He might hold you a little tighter on those nights, wordlessly seeking reassurance.

If you run your hands down his chest and kiss him gently where his scars are, it’s the kind of tenderness that undoes him. He’ll try to cover it with a half-sarcastic, “Don’t get all sappy on me,” but the slight tremor in his voice betrays him.

Sometimes, he’ll ask if you’re sure you’re okay with the way he looks, in a voice that’s so quiet it breaks your heart. Your answer always matters to him—more than he’d admit.

Ronin’s not much of a spooner in the traditional sense—he likes to wrap himself around you, snake-like, or tangle his legs with yours in the messiest, most chaotic way possible. He has a habit of lazily tossing an arm or leg over you, murmuring, “You’re not leaving, right?” as he buries his face in your neck. If you try to move, he’ll just pull you closer with an annoying little grin.

Ronin’s intimacy is all about control, not in an aggressive way, but in how he carefully chooses when and how he gives himself to you. Knowing that you love him as he is—without expectations—eases his fears, but it’s still a process.

On nights where he lets you touch the parts of him he’s most insecure about, it feels like he’s handing you a piece of his soul. He needs the reassurance that you see him fully and still love every bit.

He likes playing mind games even in the bedroom, leaning into teasing and tension just to make things more interesting. He’ll smirk against your lips, murmuring, “Think you can handle me?” knowing full well you’ve already won.

Ronin isn’t big on over-the-top dominance, but there’s always an edge to the way he kisses you—like he’s trying to claim you, even in the softest moments. It’s not about control; it’s about wanting you to feel how much you matter to him, in every breathless second.

After everything—after the teasing, kisses, and playful jabs—he’ll lie there in the quiet, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounde

He’ll never say it outright, but you can hear the unspoken words in the way he presses his lips to your hair: I love you. I love you. I love you.

Ronin wakes up before you sometimes, and instead of getting up like a normal person, he decides to mess with you. He’ll tickle your nose with his hair or blow gently on your face, waiting for you to groggily swat at him. When you finally wake up annoyed, he’ll grin, kiss your forehead, and say, “Rise and shine, sweetheart. Couldn’t sleep without annoying you first.”

While Ronin enjoys having control, he gets a thrill out of moments when you try to take charge. He’ll let you straddle him or pin his hands—just to see how far you’ll take it before he flips you over, smirking, “Cute. Now it’s my turn.”

He’ll pull things like lightly slapping your thigh or teasing you when you try to resist, smirking the whole time. If you ask him to stop being such a tease, he’ll drag it out even more, murmuring, “What’s the rush? I want to enjoy every second of this.”

In his twisted way, everything he does is an expression of love. Ronin is about pushing boundaries, breaking down walls, and molding you into someone who matches his chaotic, unhinged energy. “You’re mine,” he’ll whisper, not just as a promise but a warning—he won’t ever let you go, not truly.

After everything, he’ll drape an arm over you, pull you close, and nuzzle his face into your neck. But don’t expect sweet pillow talk—he’ll mutter something like, “Can’t believe you’re stuck with me,” or “How’d I get so lucky to ruin you, huh?” He shows affection in the strangest, most chaotic ways—sometimes by stealing kisses, sometimes by pinching your nose just to annoy you.

Ronin isn’t clingy, but he’s possessive in subtle ways. He loves when you wear his clothes after, especially when they’re oversized on you. Seeing you wrapped in something of his, especially after being tangled in bed, scratches an itch deep inside him. “That’s mine now,” he’ll joke, tugging at the collar.

He enjoys pushing your limits—whether it’s with teasing or something more intense. But the moment you hit your threshold, he’ll stop instantly. He doesn’t just listen to your boundaries; he respects them, taking pride in knowing exactly how far to push without breaking you.

V- For Vigilante- Batman

V isn’t someone who’s big on words or grand romantic gestures, especially in the bedroom. He shows care in the subtleties—like making sure you’re comfortable, leaving space for you to adjust, and observing how you react to him.

He’s slow to pick up on flirting, so if you make playful remarks or compliments, you might be met with a blank stare or a simple, “What are you trying to say?” But when he does catch on, he’ll become flustered, a rare softness peeking through his cool demeanor.

Touch isn’t second nature to V—he treats it like an unspoken contract, something intimate and earned. It takes time for him to initiate contact, but once he’s comfortable, you’ll notice small, deliberate gestures.

He has a habit of resting his hand on your back, just below your shoulder blades, or brushing his fingers along your arm. When you reach for him first, there’s always a flicker of hesitation before he lets himself lean into it.

In the bedroom, V’s energy is steady and composed—he isn’t someone who rushes into things. Every touch feels purposeful, as if he’s assessing your reaction and adjusting his actions accordingly. He might not say much, but his intensity speaks louder than words.

Though he’s naturally aloof, he likes when you take charge at times, especially if you lean into your nurturing but domineering side. When you pin him down playfully or grab his chin to make him look at you, a subtle smirk plays on his lips, amused by your boldness.

If you have pets, V will subtly encourage them to join you two on the bed—whether it's a cat curling up at your feet or a dog lying across the covers. He finds their presence grounding, though he’ll never admit it aloud.

You catch him more than once stroking an animal absentmindedly during conversations, and there’s a tenderness to the way he interacts with them—soft and careful, like they’re the only beings who understand him.

V may seem detached, but he’s hyper-aware of your moods. If you’re having a bad day, he won’t say much; instead, he’ll just pull you into bed and let you rest against him in silence, fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

If someone has hurt you or crossed your boundaries, V shifts into a dangerous kind of calm. “Do you want me to handle it?” he’ll ask in a neutral tone, fully prepared to make that person regret ever breathing near you.

On nights when sleep feels distant, V doesn’t mind spending time with you tending to plants in your room—watering them, pruning leaves, or simply sitting in comfortable silence while the scent of soil fills the air.

He loves the way you care for living things. When he watches you tend to plants with gentle hands but turns around and sees that same kindness transform into brutal protectiveness for those you love, it intrigues him deeply.

V’s way of being intimate is subtle but commanding—he won’t rush things, preferring to explore you at his own pace. He takes time to memorize every part of you, his cool fingers trailing across your skin like a silent promise.

When things get heated, he’s not one to vocalize much. Instead, you’ll catch the way his breathing hitches or how his fingers tighten on your hips ever so slightly. If you tease him for being quiet, you might get a deadpan, “Is this supposed to be a conversation?”—but the rare flash of amusement in his eyes gives him away.

V might not be outwardly affectionate, but when he does express it, it’s in ways that feel uniquely him—like pulling you into his side while reading a book together or casually draping an arm across your waist as you sleep.

If you ever catch him in a rare moment of vulnerability—like if he’s half-asleep and mumbles something soft about how much you mean to him—it’ll be a fleeting moment, and he’ll act like it never happened. But you’ll know.

He admires how you can be nurturing to animals and plants but unforgiving toward people who cross the line. When he sees you switch from soft to sharp in a heartbeat, it stirs something in him—a quiet respect and attraction.

He knows you could easily handle yourself, but there’s still a part of him that feels responsible for your safety. If things ever go wrong, V’s loyalty is absolute, and anyone who threatens you becomes a problem he’s more than willing to solve.

In the stillness of the night, when it’s just the two of you curled up together, V’s voice becomes a little softer. He might murmur simple things—how the stars looked that night, or a quiet compliment like, “You smell nice.”

And when he’s finally on the edge of sleep, with his head resting against yours and his hand resting lazily on your hip, he’ll let slip the rarest kind of confession: “You’re the only one I trust.”

Misaki- Chaos gremlin

The bedroom isn’t just for sleeping—it’s for chaos. Misaki loves randomly initiating pillow fights or wrestling you onto the mattress with no warning. “Bet you can’t take me down!” they’ll challenge, even when they’re the one getting pinned two seconds later.If you play along and banter with them during these moments, they’ll grin like you’ve just made their day. Bonus points if you act dramatic when they win—“Noooo, I’ve been defeated!”—because it feeds their need for praise.

Misaki lives for your compliments, especially in casual moments. “Look at you, my little badass,” you say offhandedly, and they melt. You’ll catch them trying to hide a smile, only to respond with something like, “Heh, I know I’m amazing—but say it again.”They also adore teasing praise—“Wow, you really managed not to break anything today, proud of you”—but if you really hype them up when they’re struggling emotionally, it grounds them more than they’ll ever admit.

Misaki hates being alone and will cling to you like Velcro the moment you’re available. They’ll drag you into bed and sprawl out across you, often grumbling things like, “You’re not going anywhere, right"

They’re the type to demand cuddles but wiggle around so much it turns into a playful wrestling match. Eventually, they’ll flop dramatically on top of you, sigh, and say, “I’m staying right here. Deal with it.”

Misaki loves calling you during missions or jobs, not just because they’re bored but because it makes them feel connected. “You’re my lifeline,” they’ll joke, even though they’re dead serious about how much those calls mean to them.

Misaki is the master of cracking jokes during vulnerable moments. They’ll deflect emotional conversations with humor, brushing off their feelings like, “Eh, emotions are overrated, right?” But deep down, they’re craving someone who can see past that.

If you gently call them out—

“You’re deflecting, babe”—they’ll groan dramatically and act like you’ve caught them red-handed, but the fact that you noticed? It means the world to them.

If you’re a good cook, Misaki adores you—praising you like a culinary god and demanding home-cooked meals at every opportunity. But fair warning: they love joining you in the kitchen, often causing delightful chaos.

Picture them trying to flip pancakes a little too high or sneaking bites from every pot while yelling, “Quality control!” They might make a mess, but they’ll be having the time of their life doing it with you.

One minute you’re cuddling in bed, and the next, Misaki’s throwing blankets and pillows everywhere to build a fort. “C’mon, no fort is complete without snacks—grab some!” they’ll say as they bury themself in the pillows like a gremlin.

The two of you end up snuggled inside, eating snacks and watching movies—until they inevitably fall asleep on you, snoring softly with their head on your chest.

Intimacy with Misaki is playful but deeply affectionate. They’ll joke mid-kiss—“Wow, are you trying to knock me out with that kiss?”—but the way they look at you, like you’re their whole world, is no joke.

Even when things get spicy, they mix teasing with genuine tenderness, making you feel cherished in their own chaotic way. And afterward? They’re all about aftercare

If anyone messes with you, Misaki’s inner chaos gremlins activate. They’ll laugh it off in the moment, but rest assured—they’ll come back with just enough payback to leave the offender wondering what hit them. “Nobody messes with my partner,” they’ll say, grinning.

And if you joke about them being your personal protector, they’ll puff their chest dramatically and declare, “You better believe it. I’ll traumatize them right back.”

At the end of the day, Misaki is a ride-or-die partner. They’ll love you to the ends of the earth, sticking by your side through every mess and adventure. Whether you’re making pancakes at midnight or just lying in bed watching TV,

they’re happiest when they’re with you.And every night, just as you’re drifting off to sleep, they’ll murmur something sweet, like, “I’m really glad you’re here, y’know?” It’s their way of saying, in their chaotic but sincere way, that they wouldn’t trade this—or you—for anything.

Angel- Heartsick Angel

Angel’s optimism often comes with a tinge of self-doubt, and you’ve learned to recognize when her mind starts to spiral. She might smile through it, masking the anxiety, saying, "Everything’s fine!"—but the way she grips your hand a little too tight tells you otherwise.

You ground her gently, pulling her into your arms and resting your chin on her head. “It’s okay to not be fine, y’know,” you murmur, brushing your thumb along her back. Her shoulders relax slightly as she sighs against you, grateful that she doesn’t have to pretend.

When Angel’s having a manic episode or feeling overwhelmed, she needs time to herself. You’ve learned to respect those boundaries without taking it personally. Instead of pushing, you leave her a glass of water and a small snack nearby—a quiet reminder that you’re always there, even if she needs space.

On tough days, she’ll eventually crawl into bed with you after hours of isolation, curling up against your side. You say nothing, just pull the blanket over both of you, and let her rest with her head on your chest. "Thanks for waiting," she whispers into the darkness.

Being a model and YouTuber, Angel’s life can be exhausting—early photoshoots, constant editing, and keeping up with trends. But on her rare days off, she craves nothing more than lazy mornings in bed with you.

She’ll snuggle close under the covers, still half-asleep, and mumble, “Stay five more minutes,” even though she’s been saying that for the past hour. You stroke her hair, brushing stray strands away from her face, and she hums happily. “Okay…maybe ten more.”

Angel is big on little kisses—forehead pecks, kisses on the nose, or brushing her lips against your shoulder just because she feels like it. She thrives on those small moments of affection, each one grounding her a little more.

If you surprise her with a kiss mid-conversation, her face lights up with the sweetest smile. “Hey! No fair!” she laughs, though she’s already leaning in for another one.

Angel hides her sadness behind smiles, but in the quiet of night, when her mind finally slows, she feels safe enough to let the tears come. She won’t say much—just clings to you like a lifeline, shaking slightly as she lets out quiet sobs.

You hold her close, fingers running soothing patterns along her back, whispering soft reassurances. “You’re not alone, Angel. I’ve got you.” And for the first time in a while, she believes it.

When she spirals, her mind becomes a tangle of doubts and insecurities. She might lash out—not in anger but in frustration at herself. “Why do you even stay?” she asks in a voice that’s too quiet, too broken.

Your answer is simple and steady: “Because I love you. And I’m not going anywhere.” That reminder, spoken without hesitation, pulls her back from the edge every time.

Angel’s approach to intimacy is both playful and passionate. She likes to tease—trailing soft kisses along your skin, then giggling at your reactions. “What’s wrong? Can’t handle a little teasing?” she’ll say with a mischievous grin.

But underneath the playfulness is a need for closeness. When things get more intense, her giggles turn to breathless whispers, and she clings to you as if letting go would shatter her. In those moments, it’s not just about the physical connection—it’s about the emotional safety she finds in your arms.

Angel isn’t afraid to reach out when she needs you—whether she’s having a rough night or just wants to hear your voice. “I know it’s late, but… can we talk for a bit?” she’ll ask softly, voice tinged with vulnerability.

You stay on the line as long as she needs, reassuring her with every word. “I’m always here, Angel. No matter what.” And that promise means the world to her.

Even mundane moments with you feel intimate to her—like brushing your teeth together in the morning, or lying in bed scrolling through your phones, feet tangled under the blankets.

Sometimes, she’ll sit in your lap while editing her videos, needing the comfort of your presence even as she works. “You’re my good luck charm,” she says, kissing your cheek before diving back into her tasks.

Cooking with you is one of Angel’s favorite ways to unwind. She loves standing side-by-side in the kitchen, playfully stealing bites of food from your hands and swaying to the music playing in the background.

“If you burn the toast, I’ll still love you,” she jokes, though you both know she’s the one who always forgets the timer. When the meal is finally done, she’ll cuddle into you on the couch, whispering, “This is perfect.” And in that moment, it really is.

Angel sometimes struggles with sleep, her mind racing with a hundred thoughts at once. On those restless nights, she’ll crawl into your lap, nestling close, and murmur, “Can’t sleep… can you talk to me?”

You wrap your arms around her, holding her until the rhythm of your heartbeat starts to calm her down. Sometimes, you talk about anything—nonsense stories, funny memories, or what you’ll have for breakfast. Other times, you just hum softly, running your fingers through her hair.

“Stay like this forever,” she whispers drowsily, and though she falls asleep soon after, you keep holding her, content in the quiet intimacy.

After long filming days or stressful shoots, Angel tends to collapse into bed, drained and emotionally spent. She craves your touch most during these moments, melting into your embrace like she belongs there.

“Mmm… you’re my reward for surviving today,” she mumbles, cheek pressed to your chest. Her exhaustion shows in the way she clings to you, a silent request for comfort.

You stroke her back, pressing soft kisses into her hair, and promise, “I’m always here, Angel. No matter how tough it gets.” Her contented sigh tells you that’s exactly what she needed to hear.

Angel isn’t the jealous type—she trusts you completely—but that doesn’t mean the little pangs don’t sneak in sometimes, especially when work takes you away from her for too long.

“You know… you’ve been spending a lot of time with other people lately,” she’ll say with a teasing smile, though the underlying insecurity is evident.

You pull her close, kissing her forehead. “They’re not you. They could never be you.” Her smile turns real, and she presses herself tighter against you, content with the reassurance.

Mornings with Angel can be quiet and raw, especially after a rough night. She wakes up groggy, with her guard lowered, snuggling closer to you with a sleepy whimper.

On mornings like this, she doesn’t say much—just holds you as if anchoring herself. “Stay with me a little longer,” she whispers, her breath warm against your neck. You’re happy to oblige, brushing lazy kisses against her hair as the world outside waits.

Intimacy with Angel is equal parts playful and passionate. She likes to tease and challenge you, enjoying the push and pull. “Oh, think you’ve got me figured out?” she taunts, lips brushing against yours.

But there’s always tenderness beneath her teasing—a desire to be close, to connect on a level that feels safe. In those quieter moments, she melts against you, breath hitching as your touches become slower, more deliberate. “You feel so good,” she whispers, eyes fluttering shut.

She loves when things slow down, when it’s not just about the physical but the emotional closeness. You can tell from the way her fingers linger on your skin, like she’s savoring every second.

Angel tries to mask her sadness with jokes, but in the sanctuary of the bedroom, she knows she doesn’t have to pretend. Some nights, she’ll vent about the pressures of her work, her insecurities, or how overwhelming life feels.

“Sometimes I just… don’t feel good enough,” she admits softly, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. It’s not easy for her to be this open, but with you, she feels safe enough to try.

You cup her face gently, brushing away the stray tears. “You’re more than enough, Angel. I see you, and I love you for exactly who you are.” The look she gives you—full of gratitude and love—makes every tough moment worth it.

Angel doesn’t always need grand gestures—what she values most is your time and presence. Even just lying in bed with you, scrolling on your phones or watching random videos, feels special to her.

“You being here means everything,” she’ll say quietly, her hand resting on your chest as if to anchor herself. The way she smiles when you squeeze her hand makes it clear she means it.

During her worst splits, Angel sometimes pushes you away—not because she wants to but because she’s afraid of being a burden.

“You don’t have to stay,” she mumbles, curling into herself. But you do stay. You sit with her in the silence, gently running your fingers along her arm until she relaxes.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere,” you remind her softly. And when she finally looks up, her eyes are full of gratitude—and maybe a little hope.

Pillow talk with Angel is full of random, sleepy conversations—she’ll talk about her dream YouTube ideas, the weirdest trends she’s seen, or the cutest animal videos she found.

But sometimes, in the dead of night, her words turn softer, more vulnerable. “Do you think I’ll be okay?” she asks quietly, her fingers laced with yours.

“You’re already okay, Angel,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “And I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way.”

For Angel, love is found in the quiet moments—the way you hold her when words aren’t enough, the way your fingers brush hers absentmindedly, the way you stay even when things get hard.

And as she drifts off to sleep in your arms, she knows she’s exactly where she belongs.

[yurrimoo]

Killer chat fanart (ゝω・´★)

[cakewritez]

ᴵ'ᵈ ᵈᵒ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ²⁰ ᵇᵘᶜᵏˢ, ᴵ'ᵈ ˢᵉˡˡ ᵐʸ ˢᵒᵘʳ ˢᵒᵘˡ.

CW: Killer Chat warnings apply here as well!! // Down Misaki, you cheer her up !! Pre-established relationship

Tw: ronin :(

Misaki was in a hurry, a big one. She was behind on rent for the past two months, sure she got some of it paid!! However, her landlord gave her a week's extension. And that week was almost up.

You were drawing a little doodle of this anime your girlfriend recently got into, you hoped that it would lift her spirits just a bit after her stressed mood earlier this morning. Giving a little hum, you finished the doodle and quickly found yourself bored. Checking your phone you saw that Misaki had texted you, perfect timing !!

@hitmeuppp: I need you

Help

Please

d4rlinMC: Woah woah hey what's wrong?

@hitmeuppp: im freaking out right now

I got a really expensive hit

Which is good! Cuz yknow, rent

But the venue is like really crowded and there is a bunch of people everywhere

I don't wanna risk them seeing the glare from my sniper

What do I do?

@d4rlinmc: Okay, breathe. Just breathe in and out. You got this sweetie, I believe in you.

@hitmeuppp: okay okay brb , I love you ♡ (^з^)-☆

@d4rlinmc: i love you too, now focus and get that bag!

You smiled to yourself as you cheered up your stressed out girlfriend. You continued doodling on her bed, thinking of her as you scribbled each stroke on the paper until she got home.

Misaki unlocked the door and dropped her heavy dufflebag by the door, kicking it into the hallway closet. She ran her fingers through her hair as she took of her accessories and changed into her normal pajamas.

You stretched your arms out towards her, making a little grabby hands motion as she fell into your arms. She hugged your waist, as she grumbled into your neck about her day and how the assassination went.

You stroked her hair gently, comforting her after such a long and stressful day. She felt like a matching puzzle piece in your arms, complete and content. Your bodies were wrapped and entangled in each other, just like your lives.

The drawing was completely forgotten, the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms. Safe from the outside world, protected by your mutual killer friends. Protected by you.

𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎, 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎.

Part 2? [While I continue to clear out my inbox :3]

[thyme707]

I apologize for my past, current, and future actions. I'm really going to bed now.

Based on @rosesrotofficial halloween ask

[mysticwastelandkitten]

I didn't want to make weezer. They made me make weezer 😞

Original is just a black bg lmao

[regulum-plays]

This time I have something diffrent and smaller as I played new game and I made small guide/list of tips to get every ending. Maybe it will help someone.

I really recommend trying it out. ^^

[slay00ryu]

Halloween with your killers

Ronin:

- Ronin dressed up as a... Saint. You don't know why you set some kind of expectations for his outfit. When you spoke up about your surprise he just smirked and titled your head up "Tsk, tsk, you should know better than that darlin'."

- You dressed up as a demon, that earned you a laugh from Ronin, he was laughing in amusement. "Oh? So now you're my little shoulder devil?" He asked and kissed your knuckles. "You make me want to sin with a single look." He teased you.

- Ronin took you to a random abandoned house, you were wondering why he would want to go there, until you saw the crowbar in his hand. "Really Ronin? You will kill a bunch of kids?" You asked and crossed your arms. "Not kids. Just a few assholes who can't respect other people." He answered with a wicked grin.

- Your amazing boyfriend had a lot of fun when the assholes started to call him a devil. After he dealt with them, he turned to look at you with face stained with blood and a strangely dangerous glimmer in his eyes. "See babe? Even as a saint I'm the devil."

- The rest of the evening you would spend back at his place, watching some shitty horror movies and eating snacks.

- "Did you have fun baby?" Ronin whispered to your ear after the movie ended. You looked at him. "Well, yeah. I had fun being the saint's shoulder devil." He would laugh at your answer and tease you some more.

V:

- V isn't a big fan of Halloween, he never was, and probably never will. But when you hear that the server wants to hold a real Halloween party, you immediately decide that you two are going there.

- V was dressed up as V for Vendetta. It was your idea and he gave in. You knew that he liked the idea.

- Your outfit was something that made Ronin and everyone on the server laugh, everyone beside V that is. You dressed up as Batman and then said "I'm V, but less cool." V just scoffed at your words and called you an imbecile.

- During the party, V was either talking with the other killers or keeping close to you. When he got too overwhelmed with everything, you would take him for a walk around the place of the party and relax a little.

- If you're tired, or drunk, V will take you back to his place and make sure that you sleep. But if you're not tired, just want to spend some time alone with him, you will sit down in his living room and play some super logical board games that V owns. Or take care of his animals.

- "I really had fun this Halloween V." You said and looked at him with a big smile. "It... Wasn't terrible. I suppose." He replied as he looked at the small bird in your hands.

Misaki:

- They dress up as a werewolf, a cute werewolf at that. You make sure to take a lot of pictures of them and probably spam them on the server just to show off how cute she is .

- You dressed up either as a vampire or Little Red Riding Hood. Both of these give you reactions from Misaki.

1. Vampire: "Oh, so you're into enemies to lovers? You're so corny." They laughed at their own joke. "But you're into it too Misaki." Your reply earns you a pout from your partner.

2. Little Red Riding Hood: "Wow, pookie bear I'm a werewolf, not a big bad wolf." They rolled their eyes in a fake offense. "Same thing, we slay all of them anyway." You replied and kissed them on the cheek.

- Misaki took you out to trick or treat. "Misaki do you seriously want to steal candies?" You asked after the fourth house you visited. "Stealing? Me? We're not stealing babe, we're just enjoying ourselves and getting free candy." They replied with a cheeky grin.

- You gave your small buckets full of candles. The kids the two of you pass, give you hateful glares. Misaki laughs at them every time they see it happening.

- If you're tired of walking, she will take you to a park and you will sit on the grass, eat candy and watch the stars.

- "Thanks for spending time with me babe, I know it's childish." Misaki says and looks at you. "Misaki, I would jump into the fire for you, this is nothing." You relied without hesitation. "Wow, wow, chill. Don't throw things like it with just anyone, if I was as bad shit as Ronin is then you would jump into that fire."

Angel:

- Angel dresses up as Jennifer Check, your jaw dropped when you saw her in that costume.

- You ended up dressed up as someone just as iconic, Angel was really pleased with the way you looked and clung to you. "I will kill someone if they look at you for too long." She whispered.

- Angel had a party with her influencer friends and some models. You were there as her partner and guest. People were curious about you, they wanted to ask you many questions, but Angel just told them in that sweet voice of her that you're not really into being interviewed.

-When Angel gets tired of acting as Maria del la Rosa, the model with her own channel, who's all smiles and beauty. You take her out of the room when the people are, maybe you'll take her to the bathroom, on a balcony or somewhere else. You'll try to help her relax and take her home if she'll need to go back.

- When you're back from the party, you're laying in bed, snuggling against each other and spending quality time.

- "I wish this whole day could look like this." She whispered as she pressed her head even more to your chest just to hear your heartbeat. "I'm just happy to be with you whenever or wherever." You kissed her forehead which earned you a small smile from her.

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

Have a fun Halloween 🎃

[cruelestcolor]

killer chat headers. credit and rb if using

[alemonyoyo]

Another day, another Killer Chat drawing (x2)

I adore these two so much. V was a favourite of mine and Misaki's personality is soooo relatable!!

Characters are from the VN Killer Chat made by @rosesrotofficial on itch.io. It's seriously good you should go play it!!!

[elysiaheaven]

KC cast when breakup with their s/o!

THIS WAS A PAIN TO WRITE!!

KC cast when breakup with their s/o! This could be ooc for some characters! ^^

Ronin- The Devil's Butcher

“Hey, so…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can we talk about us? Like, seriously?”

His eyes sparkled with mischief, and he straightened, stepping closer. “What’s there to talk about? I thought we were having a blast!” He leaned in, his tone dripping with irony. “You know, living the dream, fighting against the mundane, embracing our tragic romance like the protagonists of some angsty novel?”

“Ronin, stop joking around,” you pleaded, trying to inject some seriousness into the moment. “This isn’t funny. I’m serious.”

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” He cocked his head to the side, the grin never leaving his lips. “You know I thrive on the ridiculousness of it all. Why break up with you when I can just keep toying with your emotions like a cat with a mouse?”

Your heart sank, confusion mixing with frustration. “You think this is a game? That I’m just some toy for you to play with?”

He stepped back, letting out a soft chuckle, his eyes glinting with a twisted delight. “Oh, sweetheart, you know you’re much more than that. You’re like… my favorite game. But maybe I’m just getting bored of playing.”

“Bored?” you echoed, disbelief flooding your voice. “You can’t be serious.”

He shrugged, the casualness of his movements almost mocking. “Oh, I’m dead serious. Think about it. You and me? It’s like the best horror movie plot twist, isn’t it? The classic ‘I can’t handle your intensity, so I’m gonna ghost you’ moment.” He tilted his head, pretending to ponder, then added, “How about we make it a dramatic exit? It’d be so much more entertaining.”

A lump formed in your throat. “So you’re just going to throw this away? Everything we’ve built?”

“Built? Ha! We were more like a rickety shack on the edge of a cliff, darling. All it takes is one little push to watch it tumble into the abyss. And honestly? I’m just not feeling the adrenaline anymore.” He looked at you, his eyes piercing but playful. “I mean, how many more times can I listen to you tell me to stop joking before it gets boring?”

You felt your heart ache, each word cutting deeper. “You’re breaking up with me because you’re bored? Because you think it’s a game?”

“Pretty much.” He smiled, the devilish glint in his eye never fading. “But hey, it’s been a hell of a ride, hasn’t it? Maybe we’ll meet again in some alternate universe, where I’m not such an asshole.”

After the breakup, Ronin maintains his usual devil-may-care attitude, plastering on that signature smirk and making dark jokes to anyone who’ll listen. However, inside, he feels a swirling storm of regret and fear, a feeling he rarely acknowledges. The laughter and playful teasing mask a gnawing worry about the void left in his life.

His love for the theatricality of life makes it hard for him to admit he’s hurting. The post-ironic lens he views the world through twists everything into a dark joke, making it hard for him to understand his own feelings. He chuckles to himself, thinking, Is this the part where I dramatically reflect on my life choices?

Ronin realizes that he enjoyed the challenge of corrupting and rebuilding you, but now it feels like a game lost. He’s torn between his pleasure in manipulation and a deeper, unsettling craving for genuine connection. The thrill of twisting your mind now feels empty without you there to play against.

He finds himself haunted by memories of your time together, often replaying conversations in his mind. The little things—your laughter, your exasperated eye rolls at his dark humor—sting more than he expected. The thought of you moving on fills him with an irrational panic.

In an attempt to distract himself from the ache, Ronin immerses himself in his "work," spiraling deeper into his more devilish tendencies. He takes on riskier jobs, pushing his limits and living dangerously, thinking it might fill the void. However, each time he looks into the eyes of his victims, he sees glimpses of you, and it only deepens his conflict.

Alone at night, when the chaos quiets, the mask begins to slip. He stares at the ceiling, reflecting on what it means to be "the Butcher." The irony isn’t lost on him; here he is, a killer yearning for something real, grappling with emotions he deemed beneath him. The image of your face haunts him, and he wonders if he pushed you away because he feared his own growing attachment.

Ronin feels a sense of freedom in being alone, yet it frightens him. His nature thrives in chaos, and the loss of your vibrant presence leaves him feeling empty. He fears that if he opens up to the idea of missing you, it might lead to a vulnerability he’s not ready to face.

He engages in his twisted thoughts, he reflects on whether he could have manipulated the situation differently, wondering if he should have pushed back against the fear instead of giving in. His mind flirts with the idea of reconnecting, yet he recoils, convinced that his devilish nature could never let him be truly vulnerable with you again.

Ronin begins to write poetry, scribbling down his thoughts in a dark notebook. Each line drips with irony, masked in the guise of self-deprecation and humor, but they reveal the heartache he tries to hide. In those moments, he questions if he’s become the very monster he sought to control, lost to his own games.

In the end, he knows he’ll keep cycling through this madness: flirting with danger, toying with the idea of reaching out, all while holding onto the mask of the devil he has carefully crafted. But deep down, the conflict remains—he misses you more than he’s willing to admit, and the fun of corruption no longer feels like enough to fill the chasm you left behind.

After the breakup, Ronin maintains his usual devil-may-care attitude, plastering on that signature smirk and making dark jokes to anyone who’ll listen. However, inside, he feels a swirling storm of regret and fear. maybe... He will mask it. It's been easy for him...

It's just another tragic love story!!

Ronin slouched in his chair, a scowl etched across his face as he tapped his phone impatiently. Angel had been the only one to check in on him since the breakup, her concern unrelenting even as he tried to distance himself from anyone who might dig deeper. He didn’t need pity; he was the Butcher, the devil in disguise. But the screen lit up with her name, and against his better judgment, he opened the message.

Angel: Hey, just wanted to check in. Have you been okay?

He scoffed at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, hesitant. Didja think I care? Nope.

The response felt empty even as he hit send, and he leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. A part of him relished the chance to brush her off, to maintain his devil-may-care image. But there was a gnawing doubt creeping in, an itch beneath his skin.

Angel: You don’t have to pretend with me. You know I care about you, right?

He rolled his eyes, dismissing her concern as he replied, So fun. The sarcasm dripped off his words like poison, but as soon as he hit send, he felt a hollowness settle in his chest.

He wasn't usually like this to angel..

As he stood up from the seat, he felt the weight of the world pressing down on him, the playful bravado fading with every step. He walked to the mirror, the harsh light exposing the cracks in his carefully curated facade. His heart raced, pounding like a drum in the silence.

Staring at his reflection, he felt a tremor in his hands. The smirk, the bravado, the devilish charm—none of it felt real anymore. In that moment, the mask slipped, and he let out a shaky breath, tears welling up in his eyes.

Even the devil can cry, he thought bitterly, feeling the warmth trickle down his cheeks. He’d buried his heart at Angelwood, thinking he could forget that it ever existed. But the truth was, it was still there, dormant but never gone, lingering beneath layers of irony and cruelty. It throbbed painfully in the wake of your absence, a constant reminder of what he’d lost.

The irony twisted in his gut; he had reveled in his chaos, played the part of the heartless killer, but beneath it all, he was just a man. A man who let himself feel, and now, that feeling was tearing him apart. Each drop of sorrow felt like a nail in the coffin he’d built around his heart, and no amount of darkness could extinguish the light that had once burned so brightly for you.

He took a step back, the reflection in the glass warping under the weight of his emotions. The devil might have loved too deeply, too fiercely, and now he was left with nothing but echoes of laughter and moments that would haunt him like shadows.

Ronin wiped at his eyes, anger bubbling up to mask the pain. Get it together, he thought, but deep down, he knew the truth. He missed you—more than he’d ever let on, more than he’d ever wanted to admit. The heart he thought he buried was alive and well, and it ached like a fresh wound.

V- Batman

You stood with your hands in the soil, tending to a row of young saplings. The scent of damp earth filled the air, a familiar comfort you always found with V. But tonight, something felt different—colder.

He stood nearby, watching you in silence. His arms crossed, his sharp, unreadable gaze fixed on the plants you were nurturing so carefully.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and even, like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath. “We need to talk.”

You glanced up, wiping your hands on a rag, sensing the weight behind his words. “V, what’s going on?”

There was a pause—one of those long, uncomfortable silences he often wielded like a weapon. His expression remained stone-cold, but his fingers tapped lightly against his forearm, betraying the tiniest flicker of hesitation.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said at last, “about us. About what I want. What I need. And… I shouldn’t have weaknesses. Not like this.”

The words hit like a sudden frost settling over the warmth of the greenhouse. You frowned, feeling something twist uncomfortably in your chest. “What are you talking about? Weakness?”

He exhaled slowly, as though every word had to be calculated. “Loving you is a liability. You make me…” He trailed off, narrowing his eyes as if admitting the truth to himself was almost offensive. “Vulnerable.”

You blinked, a knot tightening in your throat. “So what, you’re saying you care too much? That it’s a bad thing?”

He gave you that familiar, detached look—the one that always frustrated you because it made you feel like your words were being weighed and found lacking. “It is,” he said matter-of-factly. “If I care, I’ll hesitate. If I hesitate… I lose.”

“Lose?” You stepped forward, trying to make sense of the walls he was building. “V, this isn’t some tactical mission. This is us. You don’t have to fight me like I’m the enemy.”

He didn’t move away when you closed the space between you, but his posture stiffened—like he was bracing himself, fighting the urge to soften. His gaze flickered briefly to the plants behind you, and something about the way he looked at them made your heart ache. He had always admired your ability to nurture life. Maybe that was part of the problem.

“Don’t you get it?” he murmured, the faintest crack slipping into his otherwise steady voice. “You’re the kind of person who brings things to life. And I’m… I’m not built for that. I’ve spent my whole life trying to eliminate threats, avoid attachments. If I let you stay, I’ll start—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “I’ll start believing that something good can last. That I could keep it.”

“And that scares you.” Your voice was soft, but it wasn’t a question.

He gave a small, bitter smile—barely more than a twitch of his lips. “More than you know.”

You reached for him, but he took a step back, the movement as deliberate as the rest of him.

“This isn’t about you,” he said quietly, but with finality. “It’s about me. I need to be in control. Of myself. Of everything.”

“So what?” you asked, anger creeping into your voice. “You’re just going to walk away because loving me makes you feel human?”

He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, the silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Then he gave a short, almost mechanical nod, as if he’d already accepted the conclusion long before this conversation started. “Yes.”

The word was sharp and precise, like a scalpel cutting away what remained of your relationship.

You stared at him, the anger dissolving into disbelief. “That’s it?”

His gaze softened, just for a moment—a fleeting crack in the armor he wore so tightly. “I wish it could be different. But this… this isn’t who I’m supposed to be.”

“V,” you whispered, hoping, praying for something—anything—that would prove he still felt what you knew he did.

He looked at you for a long, agonizing moment, as if memorizing your face, storing it away somewhere deep inside where even he wouldn’t be able to touch it again. Then, in the cold, measured tone that defined him, he said:

“Take care of the yourself.”

And just like that, he turned and left, his footsteps quiet and steady, as if the weight of the world didn’t press down on his shoulders with every step.

You stood there, rooted in place, surrounded by the life you had nurtured together. But the warmth that had once existed between you was gone, replaced by the cold absence of a man too afraid to let himself love.

After breakup

After the breakup, V seems completely unaffected to anyone who looks at him. He keeps his composure—his face neutral, his voice flat. But in reality, every moment feels heavier than the last, as if the air around him thickens with regret. He doesn’t say it aloud, but your absence clings to him like a bruise, slow to fade.

He throws himself into routines: feeding stray animals, taking care of his birdies

V starts taking longer and longer walks at night, finding solace in animals—creatures who don’t demand emotional explanations or try to decipher the complicated labyrinth of his thoughts. He prefers their company now; they don’t pry. But every time he comes across a familiar place where the two of you once spent time together, the ache sharpens in his chest. He curses himself for noticing. He curses you for lingering, even when you’re not there.

In his mind, the breakup was the logical choice. You deserved someone softer, someone better suited for a future with gardens and pets that didn’t come with the looming shadow of death. His cold detachment was supposed to make things easier for both of you—cleaner. But it didn’t. Not for him. No matter how much he tries to rationalize it, the feelings linger, gnawing at him like ivy curling through the cracks of his armor.

V was drawn to your nurturing side, but that also terrified him. You made him feel safe, and that safety was unsettling. What kind of monster finds comfort in someone so good? You balanced the chaos in him with quiet strength, but that only made his darkest impulses feel more dangerous in comparison. Loving you made him feel seen—and he hated that more than anything.

V drafts messages to you late at night, only to delete them before they’re ever sent. “How are the flowers? The white ones should bloom this week.” He knows you’re better off without him. Still, his thumb hovers over the send button sometimes, just long enough to remind him how easy it would be to drag you back into his world.

He convinces himself that he’s done the right thing. But when he sees you smiling with someone new—someone who fits the life you deserve—it’s like a knife twisting in his chest. His expression doesn’t change, but his hands clench so tightly his knuckles turn white. If he were any less disciplined, he might’ve killed them right there. He tells himself it’s jealousy, but deep down, he knows it’s grief.

The animals he cares for—strays, birds, the creatures that flock to him—pick up on his sadness. A stray cat curls up in his lap, sensing the heaviness in him. He brushes his fingers over its fur absentmindedly, realizing for the first time that animals understand heartbreak better than most people. It’s a strange kind of comfort, but not enough to fill the space you left behind.

On nights when the loneliness becomes unbearable, V sits in the garden under the moonlight, staring at the plants the two of you nurtured together. He tells himself it was inevitable, that he had to let you go. But sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, he wonders if it was all just fear. Fear that you’d unravel him completely. Fear that someone as good as you could never truly love someone like him.

V doesn’t believe in sentimental nonsense. But you were the closest thing he’d ever come to a home. He knows now that even the coldest creatures crave warmth—and he found it in you. But instead of basking in it, he let his fear drive you away. And now, all he can do is live with the knowledge that he traded his one chance at happiness for the hollow comfort of control.

He repeats it like a mantra—It’s better this way. But the words feel empty. As he tends to the plants alone, surrounded by the animals that will never ask the questions he can’t answer, the truth settles in: Losing you wasn’t just painful—it was the kind of mistake you can never undo.

Misaki- The baby

You can tell something is off the second Misaki steps through the window , a familiar grin plastered across their face but… it doesn’t reach her eyes. There’s a weight she’s trying to hide behind that goofy, energetic exterior, but it slips through the cracks—just enough for you to notice.

“Heyyyy! Guess who’s here!” she singsongs, throwing her arms up dramatically, like this is some routine. Like everything is fine.

But you know it isn’t. You can see it in the way their hands fidget with the cuffs of her sleeves, how their gaze darts around the room, never quite landing on you. She’s stalling.

"Misaki," you say gently. "What’s going on?"

She drops onto the couch, kicking off her shoes in that chaotic, carefree way of hers. But the moment she speaks, you hear the tension threading through her voice, coiled tight like a wire ready to snap.

"So," she says with a forced grin, "you ever, uh... just know when something's not working? Like, you’re throwing everything at it—your whole heart, even—and it’s still like... hmmm... maybe this isn’t it." She laughs, but it’s sharp, brittle. “Yeah, so… that’s kinda what I’ve been thinking."

Your heart sinks. “What are you saying?”

She makes finger guns, like this whole thing is a joke. Like it’s not ripping her apart inside. "Ding ding ding! Breakup, baby! You win!" Their voice is too loud, too bright, and it makes your chest hurt because this is Misaki, hiding behind humor like it’s armor.

"Misaki... stop joking. What’s really going on?"

She freezes, and for a second, you catch the flash of something raw in her eyes—panic, maybe. Fear. She rubs at the back of their neck, suddenly looking smaller than usual despite their big personality.

“I mean it,” she says, softer now. "I’ve been thinking... and I don’t think I can do this. I love you. I do. But I don’t think I know how to be with you." their voice cracks on the last word, and she tries to cover it with a shaky laugh.

"I thought maybe if I acted normal, if I kept being goofy, I could pretend it was fine. But it’s not fine, and I can’t keep faking it."

There’s a long silence between you. You search their face, looking for something to latch onto, some way to fix this. But she won’t meet your gaze—just stares at their hands, as if they might hold answers she can’t find.

You want to say something, anything, but before you can, she stands up abruptly, forcing a grin. "Hey, no hard feelings, okay? We had a good run! And honestly, who else would put up with me for this long? You're a saint." She laughs again, but this one sounds more like a sob.

"Misaki—"

"Don’t," she interrupts, holding up a hand. "If you say something sweet, I swear I'll lose it."

You can only watch as she grabs their stuff and heads toward the door, moving too quickly, like she’s afraid she’ll change their mind if she stays a second longer. She pauses with their hand on the doorknob, finally glancing back at you with a crooked, bittersweet smile.

"Take care of yourself, okay? And... eat something that’s not ramen for once, idiot." Her voice wavers, but she gives you one last grin—bright and broken, just like them—and then she’s gone.

Misaki keeps up their bubbly, chaotic energy around others. They crack jokes, flirt, and prank their friends even harder, desperate to keep things light. But the more they joke, the hollower it feels. It’s all performance, and they know it—hoping that if they pretend long enough, the ache in their chest will fade.

At night, when they're finally alone, the mask slips. They lie in bed, scrolling through old texts, hovering over the call button but never pressing it. They stare at photos of the two of you together until their eyes blur with tears. Without anyone to laugh with, their humor shatters, leaving them to drown in silence.

Some nights, they're furious—angry at themself for not making things work, for ruining something good. Other times, they direct the blame toward you in petty ways: If only they tried harder… But beneath it all, Misaki knows the truth—it wasn't anyone's fault. And that truth stings the most. It was theirs...

Misaki starts calling random friends or coworkers during missions—anyone who’ll listen, even if the conversation is meaningless. They just need a familiar voice to fill the silence, laughing too hard at jokes that aren’t even funny. It’s not you, but it’s the closest they can get.

They still cook elaborate meals, even though it’s only for themself. Sometimes, out of habit, they set two plates—only to realize halfway through and shove the extra one back into the cabinet with trembling hands.

The worst moments are when they catch themself about to say something only you would understand—a dumb inside joke, a shared quip. They pause mid-sentence, force an awkward laugh, and change the topic. But every time it happens, it feels like a tiny knife twisting deeper in their chest.

They dive headfirst into anything to keep busy—missions, side hustles, parties. They flirt harder, act sillier, laugh louder. But nothing sticks. The more they try to drown the feelings, the heavier the emptiness becomes.

Even on the brink of falling apart, Misaki will still be the one wiping a friend's tears and giving pep talks. They’ve always been the goofy, reliable one. Showing their hurt feels like admitting defeat, so they bottle it up, letting it fester inside.

When they finally stop moving—standing in the shower or waiting for water to boil—the thoughts creep in. They’ll remember a tiny, stupid detail about you—how you liked your eggs, or the way you hummed that one song—and it breaks them all over again.

They’ve convinced themself that you're better off without them. They’re probably happier now. This is for the best. They repeat it like a mantra, hoping that one day it will feel true. But it never does.

A tiny part of them still hopes you’ll reach out. Every notification makes their heart race, even though they know it’s foolish. And every time it’s not you, it feels like a punch to the gut.

They make light jokes about the breakup to friends, brushing it off like it was nothing. “Ha, relationships are overrated, right?” But if someone lingers too long on the topic, their laugh falters, and they change the subject as quickly as they can.

Misaki acts unbothered—they smile, wave, maybe even throw out a playful joke. But the moment they’re alone, they crumble, staring at their reflection in a window or a mirror and whispering, Why wasn’t I enough?

Misaki keeps telling themself they’ll bounce back—I’ve been through worse. I’ll survive this, too. But deep down, they know that some scars never truly heal. And this one? It’s going to stay with them for a long, long time.

Angel-Heartsick

Angel sits across from you, her usual radiant smile nowhere to be found. Instead, her lips are pressed into a tight line, and she’s nervously tapping her foot—a rare crack in her poised demeanor. You know something is coming, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you like a storm waiting to break.

She takes a deep breath, brushing a hand through her perfectly styled hair. "Okay, listen, this is… really hard for me, but I need to say it." Her voice wavers, not from uncertainty, but from the effort of keeping herself together.

"It’s not you. I swear it’s not. And, ugh, I hate how cliché that sounds," she huffs, forcing out a laugh that doesn’t reach her eyes. "I just… I’ve been thinking, and I feel like I’m dragging you through something you didn’t sign up for. I try to be this fun, easygoing person, but you’ve seen what’s underneath. The spirals. The breakdowns."

Her fingers fiddle with the edge of her sleeve, a nervous tic you rarely see. "I thought I could handle everything. Work, us, my brain… But I can’t. And it’s not fair to you." She pauses, her chest rising with another heavy breath. "You’ve been… amazing, honestly. But I don’t think I know how to be what you need, not when I’m still figuring out how to take care of myself."

Her eyes shimmer, but she fights back the tears, refusing to let them fall. "I thought maybe if I tried harder, if I just kept pushing, we could make it work. But now… now I think I’d only hurt you more in the end."

Her voice breaks slightly as she continues. "I care about you so much. Too much. And that’s why I have to let you go." The words hang in the air, sharp and final, like the snap of a closing door.

She reaches out, briefly touching your hand before pulling away like she can’t bear the contact. "You deserve someone who can be fully present, and I need to be alone for a while. To figure things out, for real this time."

A bitter, self-deprecating smile curls her lips. "Maybe one day, when I’m not such a mess, we can find each other again. But right now? I think we both deserve better than what I can give."

Angel puts on a brave face for her followers and fans, continuing to post her usual cheerful content, but inside, she feels like she’s crumbling. She hides her heartbreak behind edited videos and vibrant filters, desperately trying to convince everyone—and herself—that she’s okay.

When the cameras are off, she often finds herself lying in bed, scrolling through old pictures and messages from you. Late at night, when the world is quiet, the tears come. She stares at the ceiling, feeling the weight of her choices pressing down like a heavy blanket.

Even when surrounded by friends and fans, she feels a profound sense of loneliness. Their laughter and cheers fade into white noise, and all she can think about is how they don’t know the real her—the one who’s struggling, the one who misses you deeply.

Random moments trigger memories of you, whether it’s a song playing in the background or a dish you both loved. Each reminder feels like a fresh wound, slicing through her carefully constructed facade. She’ll smile on the outside, but inside, it feels like everything is unraveling.

Editing videos becomes a bittersweet task. Sometimes she’ll leave in bloopers or comments about you, only to cringe afterward and cut them out. It’s a constant battle between nostalgia and pain, and she often wonders if she’ll ever be able to look at those memories without hurting.

Whenever she starts to spiral into her dark thoughts, it feels like a tidal wave crashing over her. She worries that she’ll never feel “normal” again, and her thoughts race with anxiety, self-doubt, and regrets. On particularly hard days, she feels trapped in her own mind.

Angel throws herself into her work, often taking on extra projects and collaborations to keep her mind occupied. But deep down, she knows it’s a temporary fix; the happiness it brings doesn’t fill the void left by you.

She reaches out to friends more often, craving their presence but feeling guilty for leaning on them too much. Her internal monologue battles with the fear that she’s becoming a burden, and she hides her real feelings to avoid dragging anyone down with her.

“I’m Fine” - The phrase becomes a shield against probing questions, even though she’s anything but fine. When friends ask how she’s doing, she forces a smile and replies, “I’m fine!” but she can feel the cracks in her voice.

Her manic episodes return with a vengeance, and she feels like she’s on a rollercoaster of emotions—sometimes feeling hopeful, other times spiraling into despair. It’s exhausting, and she struggles to keep up with herself.

She finds herself typing out messages to you, only to delete them before hitting send. The urge to reach out is strong, but the fear of rejection and the pain of facing reality keeps her from doing so.

Her dreams are filled with memories of you—happy moments twisted into something bittersweet. She wakes up in the middle of the night, heart racing, clutching her pillow and wishing it were you.

Despite everything, there’s a part of her that clings to the hope that things might change. She often daydreams about a future where she’s healed, where you could be together again, but that hope feels more like a curse than a blessing.

Angel tries to channel her emotions into creative outlets, like painting or journaling. It’s cathartic, but she often finds herself stuck, unable to translate the whirlwind of feelings into words or images.

[rosesrotofficial]

picked misaki on a whim and i love them sm omgg they're such a fun and chill character i vibed with them a lot :>>

so after the assassin business, what do u think shed do ?

honestly i think they would try to train kids to shoot in shooting ranges ! (she would've applied with a resume for the job but she's, um, just a little too notorious.)

[reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeko]

Killer Chat Character HeadCannons❤️

I don’t see much (if any) Killer Chat content anywhere, so if I have to make content for my hyperfixation then so be it😔

TW: Mention of a Ouiji board, horror movie mention, nothing really it’s all very chill.

So They have movie nights on the server. It’s usually horror movies, but everyone picks different things based on who’s in charge of “hosting” that week.

They have anual holiday parties on the server too, like Ronin finds some random bullshit holiday like ‘National talk shit about someone day’ (pls tell me that’s a thing😭) and just starts going off abt everyone in !main.

Angel hosts girls night on the server. It’s harder to make time for it with her schedule but she loves doing it and chatting with Felicite, Misaki, and Ai Hua.

Misaki tried a ouiji board once on !Vc and claimed she was talking to Ronin. Actually got scared when the thing is started moving and hasn’t touched one since.

Luca and Feli fall asleep on call with each other a lot. Sometimes it’s in !Vc, other times it’s in !dms. Angel caught them one time and recorded a little bit of it for blackmail.

Vince baked cookies for his kids and sent pictures to the server, along with his sunsets🙏🏽. Everyone begged for him to drop the recipe. (It was store bought dough)

V has one animal named after each person in the server. He has it based off of personalities and his least favorite animal got named Butch 😔.

Ronin gets bad hiccups randomly and Angel pokes fun at him when it happens on calls. Ronin has threatened her so much she’s unfazed.

Firm believer in Luca is a terrible cook and Feli is an amazing cook, perfect for each other🫡

Could anyone tell Luca and Feli are my favs? LUCA AND FELICITE FOR LIFERS😝

anywhooo more Killer Chat content coming when I finish Misaki’s route🫡

[serial-killers-hope]

May we have some Ronin facts? Things that build up him as a person, why he came to be this way, and what goes inside his pretty little head?

My my, getting desperate Odxny?

Well, of course I’ll indulge you. Don’t worry.

CW :

-Spoilers for Killer Chat.

Ronin… The Devil Incarnate

- He’s not one to gloat in public. He’s a tease, a flirt if you will. Calling you darling with that tinge of love / affection that you were oh so desperate to get when you first started dating.

- Ronin’s mind is usually clouded. A mess if you will, always running and never quiet. But if he’s occupied with the server, you, or murder… he’s always distracted. (Maybe he’s enjoying his time with you, one couldn’t tell what’s going on in those pools he calls eyes.)

- Ronin wouldn’t ever admit this, but he’s infatuated with you. He won’t show it, he won’t enact on it, but if you do end up finding out; oh god wouldn’t that be delightful darlin’?

- He’s a sweetheart in denial. Ronin never really would say that he loves being sweet or close at all. But he’s cuddly in bed.

- Angel is essentially the “wingman” for him. She was practically shipping you and him once she noticed the banter you two upheld. Ronin wouldn’t ever amuse her with what she wants. But in private messages, you’re all he talks about.

- Every day, every voice call, he steals sound bites of your voice. Not for anything malicious (necessarily…) but he always listens to them when he needs to hear your voice. Comfort, missing you, the works.

- “My my my… isn’t my little sunrise so…“ Pet names. Ronin enjoys teasing you to hell and back. Especially with cute names and little things to poke at.

- When he notices you, V, and Misaki hanging out in the voice chats. Immediately, he gets jealous. Going in just to pull you out with the little message: “you’re a lil’ mean to me… Ain’t you?”

Enjoy.

[mysticwastelandkitten]

The quality is so bad 😭