lumpsbumpsandwhumps
Sick Nasty Man With A Sick Nasty Plan
Danny ❌ 25 ❌ she/her ❌ I think violence is neat ❌ Main blog @mutilatedmadonna
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The previous anon doesn’t seem to understand that the anonymous feature is for the socially inept (just like me fr), not randomly harassing people? 😭
#ask#anon#don't worry current anon i promise you i don't care <3 i only even responded to it bc i thought it was funny#no originality yet straight to the point#previous anon hit me up lets get dinner sometime maybe
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You’re sick. kill yourself.
Kill me yourself coward
#ask#anon#or at least send hate anons to the correct sideblog i'm active on lmao#*new yorker voice* ey! i'm drawin' ghostface ova here!!
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Imagine this with Ashley and the Stranger. Imagine this in a what if scenario, what if Ashley had a crush on the stranger before he died. I am also curious how did he get the mask.
She’d be pretty bummed then when that cute guy she’s seen around campus suddenly disappeared with no one being able to give her a solid answer as to where he went. And when she later discovers that the masked killer that’s been so obsessed with her during his massacre is the very same guy, it’s such a colossal heartbreak. Clearly, they had mutual attraction to each other before, they really could have been a sweet couple…but there’s no way she can reciprocate for him now. Although she is far more sympathetic now that she has a personal connection to him.
And his mask is just a generic store Halloween mask! Their whole vibe is meant to play into classic 80s horror tropes, so the killings take place around Halloween when costumes and drunk parties are aplenty. He probably yoinked it off some dude he first killed
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decided to give these dorkasses a bit of a redesign
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Are you still on Discord?
Yeah but I haven't checked it in like two weeks
#ask#anon#im SORRY i am HYPERFIXATING on dbd art currently if you must reach me then use smoke signals
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I appreciate the shock-trolling attempt by sending IRL gore to my askbox but I don't think y'all realize the types of websites I used to frequent in my teenage years lmao
#if i had a nickel for every time someone with a mafia gore fetish came into my inbox#i'd have 2 nickels#which isn't a lot but kind of weird that it's happened more than once or whatever
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Have a break (have a KitKat)
⇢ Pairing: Ghostface/Meg Thomas
⇢ Length: Oneshot
⇢ Synopsis: With the previous trial going horrendously wrong, and her body pulsing in pain, Meg just really wants a break.
⇢ A/N: This was actually written before "Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?" but comes later in the timeline, hence why it's being posted after.
Behold! The first fluff I wrote in years bc I got terribly sick and needy.
Meg stumbled back from the malfunctioning generator, tripping over her own feet and slamming into the ground, hard. She groaned, running a hand down her face, flinching as another stab of pain flared in her head.
The previous trial had been against the mad doctor and Meg had been off her game, shocked too many times in quick succession and the first one taken out. She’d barely been able to breathe a sigh of relief at the familiar sight of the survivor’s camp before the Entity had dragged her into another trial, Meg’s protests and struggles meaningless. Her muscles ached, spasming with phantom pain alongside her exhausted legs, her head pulsing at each slight jostle.
She’d tried to focus on finishing the generators instead, leaving the looping to some other survivor but her hands were uncoordinated and well… that had obviously backfired. A high pitched whistle sounded behind her and the redhead craned her head back to catch sight of Feng approaching, giving her a sympathetic look.
“I’ll head to another generator,” she jutted her thumb over her shoulder, starting to step back. No doubt the explosion would garner the attention of the killer, sooner or later. The dark haired female paused midturn, twisting her head back to Meg to call, “And the killer’s Ghostface! Saw him going after Ace before!”
Meg blinked, numbly watching Feng glance around before she darted out of view, left with only the chuffing generator. She hesitantly pulled herself to her feet, stilling as her vision swam and she closed her eyes, fighting to not topple over. When the vertigo passed, she blinked her eyes open, casting a final glance to the abandoned generator as she shuffled past it, slumping against a boulder. She slid down, pulling her legs to her chest as she buried her head between her knees, drawing out a breath as she closed her eyes.
For once she was actually quite glad it was the strange stealth killer. She couldn't dredge up the energy to run around right now, nor to deal with the stabbing pain of her death alongside her headaches. Ghostface was many things, but he wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't chase her if she didn't run first. Meg shuffled into a more comfortable position, closing her eyes as she idly listened to the screams and yells of her fellow survivors echo across the map.
⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡⪢⪡
Mere minutes after Ace’s final yell rang out, Meg picked up on the quiet shuffling of grass blades rustling, the surrounding stillness interrupted by a visitor. She cracked her eyes open, watching through half lidded eyes as a gloved hand clasped the edge of the boulder, a familiar mask peeking out at her. The survivor blinked languidly, eying Ghostface as he crept out to her side of the boulder, threateningly slow and poised, taut to leap at her.
Meg only shifted slightly, lifting her head to rest it atop her knee, blinking at him once. The killer paused next to her, crowding her space from above, a direct, silent signal he’d be atop her before she could even scramble upwards. When Meg still made no motion, he crouched next to her, tilting his head to look at her.
“Are you playing hide and seek this time, doll?” He teased, a hand drifting to one of her pigtails already, caressing the woven hair, idly shifting the band to threaten to unravel it. Meg gave a low, noncommitted hum, eyes drifting to stare blankly at a patch of grass nearby.
Ghostface was still for a moment before she could hear the near silent rustling of his fabric, a presence sliding down next to her, a black, threatening figure present at the edge of her vision. His hand crept across the back of her exposed neck, twirling at the baby hairs there before he grabbed at her opposite shoulder, pulling Meg against him.
For once the survivor didn’t fight him, tilting instead to rest her head on his shoulder. Ghostface stiffened, impossibly tense at the action as Meg continued to dully stare forwards, feeling her muscles spasm slightly as phantom shocks lingered on her skin.
“I’m tired.”
She blinked. That- that was certainly not Ghostface’s voice- She winced in embarrassment, pulling her knees further closer to herself. A slip of her own tongue, her exhaustion bleeding into her voice, scrambling her brain.
The killer remained still, tense next to her, before his familiar hands prodded at her curled figure, easily slipping under her. She didn’t fight him as he maneuvered her to his lap, pulling her against his chest. The arm behind her back lifted to cradle her face, the opposing tracing circles on the underside of her knee as his mask was tilted upwards, soft lips pressing to her forehead.
Meg shifted comfortably against his chest, closing her eyes as she curled into herself. Here she didn’t have to worry about being dragged into another trial when she had her guard down, didn’t have to worry about keeping an eye out for a killer, or traps on the ground, or shocks prickling at her skin; knives in her back, a hook in her shoulder.
Ghostface’s thumb brushed against her cheek, the survivor dimly only now noting that his glove had been removed at some point. He curled further around her, a cocoon of black mass, of twirling ribbons and an iron stench, of blood stained hands that cradled her like she something precious that’d break with too tight of a grip.
“Just rest,” he whispered above her, and Meg let go, breaths evening out as she slumped completely against him, boneless.
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Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?
⇢ Pairing: Ghostface/Meg Thomas
⇢ Length: Oneshot
⇢ Synopsis: Ghostface hasn't had his hands on his darling survivor for many, many trials. The Entity isn't that cruel of a mistress to deny him for long of course.
⇢ A/N: (Dark) fluff?? In MY Ghostmeg works?? In my defense, I was sick and weak, they struck me when I had no means of defending myself-
For those unaware, Slash and I have also agreed that Ghostface's ribbons have a mind of their own, and now that I have figured out how to slip that into my writing, expect it constantly.
Ghostface rose off of the splayed, mangled body of the last survivor, grimacing in disgust as he nudged it with his foot, flicking the blood off of his knife. He easily stepped over the corpse, wiping the remaining red liquid on the sleeve of his robe as the death toll rang out, the unmistakable sound of the sky parting for the Entity’s hungry grasp. He didn’t bother to look back, focused instead on striding to the now open exit gates.
His pace was too quick, too heavy, his posture too stiff and his dismissal of his favored weapon more violent than usual, all but slamming the knife into its sheath without a glance to ensure he wouldn’t stab himself doing so.
It’d been….. many, many, far too many trials since he’d seen his lovely little, red rabbit. Caught scent of her fear, snapped his teeth around her delicate skin, her wrists clasped in one hand, able to feel her racing pulse in her wrists, ran his fingers through her hair-
Ghostface growled, harshly yanking the mask off of his face as he shoved his hood down, digging his nails into his scalp as he ruffled his hair and tried to force the brimming edge threatening to boil over back. His ribbons lashed behind him, jerking in all directions in rapid succession.
The killer had begun to find it troublesome to properly conduct his trials when she failed to show each and every time. Of course, that didn’t mean he’d grown sloppy, slow, useless.
Oh no, no, of course not. Why it’d rather become quite the opposite. The survivors unlucky enough to be cast into trials with him must’ve done something to displease the Entity, to be dropped into an enclosed space when the bloodlust boiled within him. He’d lost nearly all his patience for his stealth specialized moves, preferring to go gunning for them like a bloodhound, the panicked survivors darting in all directions like brainless hares.
The anger within him had lent him harsher swings and quicker slashes, his knife finding the spots that were sure to cause maximum pain, for choked gasps and grunts and unbridled screams. To revel in the blood that would coat him nearly head to toe at the end of each trial.
Hooks were too kind of an end for the survivors, Ghostface would ensure a complete mori of each and every survivor. Able to feel the haze settle for just a moment while his knife would dart in and out of their soft flesh until it was too torn to take any more of his anger.
But reset deaths could only take him so far, could soothe the growing fire within him only so long before he’d snap. By the fog, if Meg didn’t show her cute little butt soon, he’d be sure to find the survivor camp himself and drag her out with his own two-
An abrupt, panicked scream from above shattered the killer out of his musings, snapping his head upwards to catch sight of a falling figure above him. By pure instincts, Ghostface lashed out to catch her, a female slamming right into his arms, scrambling to grab him around the neck as her body trembled from the fall.
The killer tilted his head down to catch a proper full sight of her, freezing stone still as a familiar, red headed runner was planted right in his arms, focused on vehemently muttering choice words to the disappearing Entity above.
His ribbons had stilled in his moment of surprise, and now excitedly regained their wagging, twirling to and fro, darting closer to gently brush against Meg’s form while the killer could only stare mutely at his favorite survivor, dropped right into his own arms.
Meg finally seemed to register that someone had caught her, turning to face him before she froze, body completely still as her wide, terrified eyes stared up at him. Her mouth dropped open slightly, a small, startled noise escaping as her grip unconsciously tightened around his neck.
(Like a rabbit, that freezes before the hunting dog, hoping it’s gaze will pass over it if it dares not breathe.)
Ghostface’s lips twitched, before stretching into a full blown, wolfish grin, drawing her closer tightly as the survivor finally snapped out of her shock, scrambling to break out of his hold.
“Hi baby,” he purred, easily holding her flailing figure in place to plant a kiss on her forehead, the redhead grimacing and shuddering in response.
“Did you miss me?” He cooed, drawing her closer, tighter against himself as Meg tried to shove at his chest, kicking into open air. He rubbed his cheek against her head, akin to an affectionate cat, while the survivor tried to claw at him with blunt nails.
“I missed youu. On my sweet girl~” Ghostface sighed silently in relief, feeling the tenseness ease from his figure, his ribbons idly entangling around her legs to keep her in place. Meg snapped to them too late, while Ghostface easily spun to a new direction, happily trotting off to a more private part of the woods instead of the killer campfire.
Oh he’d missed her, and he wasn’t about to let anyone else catch sight of her. Meg was the opposite of complacent in his grip, kicking and fighting and scratching (really, you’d think he was holding some feral cat instead of a survivor). Her gaze darted to his exposed neck, freezing as her thoughts flashed across her face, hands twitching as she battled within herself.
Ghostface fought to keep from bursting out laughing. How opportunistic, how cute. Not that he’d blame her of course, he’d given her his own fair share of marks to recall him by, some visible above the limits of her clothing, others more private. It’d be quite adorable for her to do the same for him now.
Oh well.
He gave her another bold, grinning peck on her face as Meg startled and renewed her fighting, squeezing her closer. The two of them had a lot of time they needed to make up for, and he excitedly relayed it to the horrified expression growing on the survivor’s face, his ribbons curling tighter around her in anticipation.
He’d have to find some way to thank the Entity afterwards, for dropping such a wonderful gift right into his arms.
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Yay
Yay!
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Congrats on the preg
Why am I pregnant
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Speaking of sexualizing ur own content, in one of the maj endings you had a brief mention of malik and jonas potentially having phone sex. The idea of malik having such a firm and intimate grip on jonas in that way is really interesting and I'm curious if they actually would or if jonas would get too embarrassed and hang up. Would you ever do anything more with that
The first time they try is definitely...cringe worthy, to say the least. Jonas is a virgin, and closeted, and traumatized, he has absolutely no idea what he's doing and very easily gets flustered to the point of frustrating Malik. It takes a few times before Jonas really gets the hang of things, but by that point he'd rather just sneak out and find Malik in person than talk on the phone.
As to whether I would continue their story, the realistic answer is probably not, I'm sad to say. I know people really enjoyed them, and still do, and they were a blast to make content for, but MAJ/whump just aren't in my realm of hyperfixation currently. I'm all about that DBD and slasher x final girl life now bby
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you are, in fact, wonderful and your content is charming <3
and bitchy and horny?
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"Wait, I think I saw something..."
Baby made her first GIF :D
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No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
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"Oh well, I was lying anyway."
Been holdin' onto this puppy for like a week because that line sent shivers up my spine in the sexiest way possible and I didn't want to spoil it until the chapter was public
@unnamed-blob I'm expecting 17 more spin off series by the way. Get on that.
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