#to make a dbd verse and

[mcmorare]

REALM ; theater agathon.

named for the ancient greek playwright, the theater agathon sits in vienna and was the site of the disappearances of katrina brändle and jett asturias. it consists of an upstairs and downstairs lobby, seating area, balcony, and stage, as well as a number of backstage rooms. orange spots mark likely locations of pallets. purple lines mark windows. green areas mark stairs or ladders between floors.

[devourcr]

humans + armand headcanons

armand does sometimes treat humans like playthings. like an ethologist?? but with humans and he's a vampire. he loves seeing how things tick, how they work, and sometimes, that extends to people.

can armand fall in love with humans? yes. and canonically he does. but even when love is involved, armand has a selfish disposition where he chases what makes him feel good. if the human vibes with it, it's good. match made in hell. likewise, for those he loves, he'll fiercely protect, but i think it's important to reinforce that armand is very detached from humanity and human morality.

he can enjoy the company of humans, but he's always going to be a monster capable of killing, especially if they are just acquaintances.

this changes when he loves someone. when he loves them, he won't kill them. he will try everything he can to keep them from dying. but does he treat them with full agency? not really. and not always. there are always exceptions to the rule, but i think it's important to note that armand doesn't respect human life ( or vampire life in some cases ) all that much, unless it's someone who means something to him.

[designedparadigm]

“P- please, don’t . . . don't hurt me.” ( hi this is dweety bird for ghost if that's okie, or your choice ehe <3 )

   begging. 

   how  many  times  had  he  heard  it  before?  standing  over  men  who  once  stood  so  tall  and  proud,  reduced  to  a  sobbing,  bloody  mess  beneath  the  hands  of  the  ghost.  a  dead  man  walking;  so  intimately  entwined  with  death  that  dealing  it  is  second  nature.  normal. 

   part  of  this  might  look  comical,  even.  a  skull  mask  set  upon  his  face,  the  skeleton  print  gloves  that  wrap  around  the  handle  of  the  custom  combat  knife  that  still  drips  blood  from  the  last  individual  it  was  plunged  into.  second  nature.  always  second  nature.  no  one  gets  mercy.  no  one  deserves  mercy.  orders  are  orders. 

   it's  all  muddled  in  his  head  -  and  for  a  moment,  the  soldier  falters.  he  can't  remember  that  much  -  can't  phase  in  why  there's  a  civilian  at  the  end  of  his  blade.  yet  that  urge  in  the  back  of  his  mind  crawls  up.  he  knows  it  only  as  the  rot  in  his  bones  that  etches  a  deeper  hold  into  his  soul.  corrupt,  dark  -  murderer. 

   you'll  never  rise  above  it,  it  whispers  to  him,  this  is  what  you  are,  what  you  always  will  be,  feed  into  it.  feed  it. 

   emotions,  desires,  urges  -  they  all  twist  up.  somewhere  inside  him  simon  screams  -  and  ghost  falters  enough  to  knock  the  other  man  to  the  ground  and  put  a  boot  to  his  chest,  bearing  down  his  full  mass  upon  the  other  mans  ribcage.  his  teeth  clench,  his  breath  comes  out  in  a  low  hiss  as  he  tries  to  quell  the  raging  voices  that  are  ripping  his  reasoning  apart. 

   “wo'  th'  fuck  makes  you  think  you  deserve  fuckin'  mercy.” 

[curseternal]

i love that drac is arguably as or more powerful than vecna. but may not need the mark of negation because he doesn't care to defy the entity.

he's just on vacation and fine with the rules during trials.

[many-gay-magpies]

i am ill .

[hiveruled-moved]

@1ststab asked: i should have known that there's no getting in.

" Well, you're right! With that attitude we're not doing shit. " The cerulean-haired man snorts quietly and speaks in a HUSHED voice. He then practically pushes Frank aside to take his place crouched down next to the locked door instead. Kai had come prepared with a bag that he only has to dig around in for a few seconds before a lockpicking kit is taken out and he's slotting two prongs of metal into the lock. He moves his gloved fingers carefully to maneuver the picks around, knowing if too much noise were to be made they'd have a much more likely chance of being caught.

It's not until Kai hears that satisfying CLICK of victory that a smug grin lights up his face and he peers up at the other. " Jackpot. See? Fucking told you I know what I'm doing, man. " Kai slips the BURDENSOME clown mask he had to set aside back on, letting out a slow exhale to prepare himself for the deed that they were about to carry out. " Just a little faith, that's all I ask of you next time. "

[anarkissm]

scar seeing grid and the fucking xenomorph queen getting pallet stunned and looped to hell after he specifically remembered killing them both, one of which cost him his life

[blxxditout]

LIKE THIS POST for a Starter with a protective Sid Sasaki. Please specify which muse if multi-muse.

If our muses aren’t previously acquainted, this could be a good way to kick things off between them.

[brinefrolick]

@monmuses said: 🫂 (places here for Huntress [i see u have dbd verse........ i offer Anna being a big sister and giving Sadako a hug.....])

the entity's realm was cold and dead, no matter which side one was on.

undoubtedly having it worse; the survivors were stuck in a loop of repetitious death. of sharp metal 'twixt their guts, haphazardly jammed between mounds of flesh. of misery; chase of cat and mouse. they had to hope that beyond the veil, there was some vain hope of escape waiting for them. a light at the end of the tunnel.

what of the other side, though?

some surely reveled in the killings. a supply of victims; ad infinitum. and no hope of being cast away nor fighting back... the worst that could happen is a victim escaping, only to be thrust back into their hands in the next trial. yet... some surely felt just as trapped as the survivors.

sadako sat somewhere in-between. she had no qualms with continuing to spread her influence. but she was smart enough to know that no real progress was being made, too. there were pangs of grief; heavy in her heart... but those had been there long before entering this realm.

what of now?

her interactions with the others -- the killers -- had been minimal. she'd been superficially compared to yamaoka -- rin that is. but sadako wasn't a chatty sort, and thus one could imagine her surprise when the huntress loomed in her presence.

sadako was even more shocked by what happened next.

she froze in anna's hold, body becoming a statue. how is someone expected to react; deprived of such affectionate gestures all their life... only to be granted such by someone they barely even know?

sadako's neck cranes to look up at the huntress silently. even without a breath -- without a word -- the confusion and fear in her body language was more than evident.

... what did anna see that made her do such a thing?

[mcmorare]

at the time that katrina was pulled into the fog, her relationship with her brother was still... strained. having moved out to attend university in munich in 2010, when katrina was 14, the lack of proximity meant the two went from a bit of talk daily to not speaking for days turning into weeks into months at a time. they were simply never that close. their interests were always so different. putting space between them only made it easier to grow apart. julien also took longer to assert himself and attempt to set boundaries with their parents than katrina did, drifting away from them throughout his time in university but only really looking at things and thinking about whether or not he wanted them in his life once he and his wife found out they were having a baby. it was shortly before her birth that he actually told them that he didn't want them to be very involved in his life anymore, or the life of his daughter. (katrina remembers her parents' reaction on that day, how indignant and utterly lacking in understanding her mother was.) he texted katrina to let her know that this cutting-off didn't extend to her, but even with his good intentions it inevitably created distance. she was stuck living at home. if he wasn't going to come around for his occasional visits anymore, when would they even see each other? katrina didn't see it as too much of a loss. they were always very different, never the type to actually spend time one-on-one or talk about real things together. if anything, him cutting off their parents earned him back some respect, with her. he finally stood up. acted like less of a coward. still, there were fleeting moments when she wondered what it would be like to go to munich and visit him, meet his wife, try to act like actual siblings for once. maybe she did regret that they never had that.

the last time they talked before she disappeared was june 20 of that year, when he texted her to let her know about the birth of his daughter. a baby girl. katrina was an aunt. and she would never get the chance to really be one.

[talentforlying]

@ohsunshine: ❛  why aren’t you more freaked out?  ❜ / from dwight — WYNONNA EARP STARTERS

' what, by the meathooks and ritual murder, the magic fuckin' fog, or the odd fuckers hunting us fer sport? bein' honest, mate, none of it's really a first time thing for me. '

to a certain extent, he's decided that he's dreaming. he's off-and-fucked to some bastard corner of the psyche where madcap kids in masks and zombies and flower-faced fucking skin dogs gambol through desiccated homesteads and try to stick him to the wall like a stag's head in a hunting lodge, and he just hasn't figured out how to snap himself back out of it yet. maybe he's pissed off the endless enough to land himself an endless ( ha ) nightmare, or maybe that crab-legged dickhead in the sky has his skull in a vice back home, feeding off his delta waves — maybe if he decides it's not real, then it doesn't work. maybe if he can convince these other poor sods that it's not real, they won't scream so fucking loud.

and anyway, it's not important to anyone else if his hands shake worse than ever on those sodding generators. it's only important if he cocks it up.

thundering footsteps pass above their hiding spot beneath the steps of the thompson house, spitting a spray of dust motes across the thin slivers of light cast between floorboards. almost arterial. constantine waits until they've faded away into silence before grinning at the kid, unlit cigarette pinned between his teeth like a bent nail in splintered wood, at an odd angle to the grain. ' fuck, i thought 'e'd never leave. you got a map, "pizzawhat"? or d'you figure we pick a direction and leg it? '

[goofily-moved]

gm besties! I added a few verses to some ocs :3 mostly stranger things verses to danny, helena, oz, and holly? and i also gave cash a dbd verse where he is a reluctant killer!

[pumpkinfucks]

killer michael cannot have sex/cannot Nut if heavy choking isn't involved.

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

You've heard of Killers being tricked into the fog, you've heard of Killers being tempted into the realm for their bloodlust, their want of glory, vengeance and even belonging.

Now get ready for Fíadh's reason: her time was up, and her place was no longer in the world she knew and loved.

It sounds sad, because, well... It is! but it is and was inevitable, something she knew would come for her eventually if Leshy ever passed on from his position as the God of the Forest.

Fíadh, and by extension, her abilities, were borne into the world with a purpose cemented into the ecosystem of her creation. You see, while nature thrived under Leshy to an immense degree, things were not all as positive as they first seemed.

Extreme fluctuations between herbivorous prey animals and predator numbers rose and became ever more dangerous as the ecosystems were sheltered from the outside by Leshy's guardianship. With no hunting, there was nothing to settle the scales, to keep prey from being hunted until nil remained or to keep the hunters from turning against each other for food and becoming rife with disease. And directly in line with this sudden disruption in the natural hunting cycle of nature, Leshy, too, found himself impacted beyond the devastation of seeing his land in such chaos. His supply of bones and plant life grew smaller and smaller to forage from. Soon he, too, was in disrepair, just like his environment.

Thus, Fíadh was created; she was hunger and the hunt, need, bloodshed and death, not for needless delights such as the vanity that forced Leshy to close his lands from outsiders, but rather for necessity. She demanded respect and reverence, as unforgiving as the wilds but not cruel without proper reason. She enforced Leshy's wishes and will of not having his lands picked through by trophy hunters. She would allow villages to hunt their needs and monitor animal populations from the snow lines and beyond. Picking off the wayward, diseased and stunted to feed herself, while hunting those poachers and disrespectful that would decide to tempt fate by trespassing into lands that were not theirs.

And she did this for hundreds and hundreds of years without issue! Soon enough, the men and women of the region couldn't remember a time without her or her mercurial stewardship. The sounds of haunting calls from the highlands and the bids they left for her favour and permission to hunt.

Yet, nature is never static. No matter how still it may seem, an ecosystem is always one act of god away from implosion. And the end to this balance was spelled in the way of the Challenger. Fíadh knew little of the exact circumstances; just weeks before the mysterious being's arrival, Leshy had sent her away to stand to watch over the North before the spring thaw had begun. But no longer had she settled away before she reached urgent news of his demise at the hands of the Challenger.

She had taken to her herd and rode for the South, for war, for vengeance, for a victim to unleash the grief and denial of the change she couldn't bring herself to accept.

The End of an Era.

When she reached the Cabin, there was no Challenger to be found, the old camera shattered, and the home of the god and his spirits in shambles, and yet, life passed on. No one really needed to speak about it to understand when they had all arrived. With their leader, the start and end of their cycle gone, a new cycle would need to be found. But not with them, they knew.

They were too specialized, like dinosaurs in that sense, the giant bugs of the Carboniferous. They were not built for the new world that would rise from the ashes of their old ecosystem. Life for life, something knew would come, as would more spirits, and they would need to make room.

Soon enough, all but she had left the lands, seeking a new beginning or perhaps a peaceful resolution to their story, but Fíadh couldn't bring herself to leave, not after everything.

She had been born in these lands twice, once as a human and the next as a spirit of the woods. Her clan had lived in its highlands as long as mankind existed until they had died, leaving her the last remnant. And just as they had died, so too did her second family in Leshy and those other spirits that has dispersed to the wind. It seemed only right, at least in her mind, that she should wait for the inevitable to reach it's bony hand and urge her too to join all of those she had outlived.

AND YET, WHAT'S THIS, THE ENTITY COMING IN WITH A STEEL CHAIR?! No... no, but the Entity is not about to let a perfect addition to its collection to waste away like that, not when it has an ideal ecosystem for this being of hunger and hunt to join!

[byanyan]

thinking about post-fog byan in their dbd verse is fucking me up today... because they have no one to go back to. no one would have really noticed that they were gone in the first place. troubled kid who's been in and out of so many foster homes and has a habit of disappearing from the group home for days at a time? no one would have been terribly surprised when they never turned back up.

they're basically screwed when they come back. if we assume that everyone returns to the present day rather than the time they were taken from... byan is physically still 17, but as far as the world is concerned, they're an adult, probably somewhere in their 20s depending on how long they were in the entity's realm. not only do they not have someone to go back to, they've lost whatever weak safety net they had before. they don't have shelter they can return to - the group home for kids in the foster care system certainly wouldn't take them back. they're too old now.

which means... they're homeless. they've lost the already limited options they had before they were taken. they've basically gone from one type of hell to another, and now they have like ten new layers of trauma on top of it all.

[solitarysurvival]

[don’t stop me now plays as i lie completely dead in the middle of the ironworks of misery]