You'd look hella cute as a lifeless corpse!!

This is an ask/rp blog based on the game Town of Salem. Feel free to drop in and ask me anything.

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kekekeke,,,,

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IM DYING SQUIRTLE

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I swear im not dead

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only 90's kids remember

when nathan smoked weed in heaven on a lawn chair

[lvnelynight-deactivated20190613]

And Did Something More!

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;-)

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only 90's kids remember

when nathan smoked weed in heaven on a lawn chair

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GUYS ARE YOU SURE THAT WAS WEED

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thank u <3 its mostly just a cough but Id rather not yknow @ask-the-executioner

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i aint goin to school y'all

[deadlyflovrish-blog]

~ How Lovely ~

v bloody version below v

Keep reading

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The streets of Salem were practically empty as Dexter sauntered through the town, eager to approach his destination. Only a few people remained outside, either making their way into the safety of their homes, or off to take care of some ‘business". The killer didn’t acknowledge them as he was lost in thought, planning his next scheme precisely, one wrong move could result in utter failure, and that was the last thing Dexter wanted tonight.

Tonight he would finally pay a visit to his newest obsession. He could almost imagine the horrified look on poor Jonathan’s face, not out of surprise, though, from how fast word travels in this town nothing could be kept a secret for long. He probably knew, but that just made it even better, the loyal warden not able to be at rest because of one single person. A single person with a knife.

Dexter waited in the shadows of a run down looking building, he had watched and memorized Jonathan’s routine and he knew he would be passing through soon. Almost ten minutes passed of nothing but the cold winter air biting at his cheeks before the killer noticed a familiar face.

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The warden strode down his-now routine path to the jail. Puffing his chest out and keeping thoughts of the serial killer far away from his mind, he set his sights on the horizon.

A horde of crumbling buildings came into view, the blonde curling his lip at their obscuring silhouettes. He’d have to ask the new mayor one day to knock all those damned things down. They were an eyesore. Completely useless.

As he reached the group of buildings, a chill quickly shot down Nathan’s spine and he paused. He was used to it by now. The feeling that something was waiting for him at the end of the road. That Dexter was just biding his sweet time until he could dig his knife into his chest. His heartbeat banged loudly in his ears, threatening to burst out at any moment. The darkness suffocating him.

Struggling to keep calm, the jailor let his gaze swivel around in an attempt to quell his familiar paranoia, looking for the gratification that he wasn’t being watched. Giving a nod of satisfaction at the apparent lack of the serial killer, he continued on until his eyes drifted downwards. They caught on something.

A long, curvy shadow stretching from beside one of the decrepit buildings to Nathan’s feet. A shadow nothing made by man could reproduce.

His blood went cold.

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A large, intimidating grin made its way onto Dexters face, he couldn’t help it, the way the other man completely froze in his tracks at the sight of him gave him a sick satisfaction nothing else could. He had waited long enough for this.

“Hello, Jonathan.” The killer cooed while he kicked off the wall beside him, meandering into the wardens line of sight. The moon cast a white light behind him, thanks to the lack of lanterns in this side of town, it was the only light source. Dexter had his arms crossed in front of his chest, a content look upon his face. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, friend? I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know?”

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Nathan choked up, unable to form a reply. He couldn’t even glance at Dexter’s sadistic grin without his stomach feeling as if it had been ripped from his body. The sheer relish and enthusiasm that it held from seeing him in agony being so blatant and open only deepened the petrifying churning feeling in his insides.

Swallowing panic, he replied with a tremble in his voice: “Come any closer and I swear to god you’ll never see Adaline again.” The jailor stepped backwards, stoic features barely outlined by the silver light of the moon. That statement wouldn’t deter the killer but it would hopefully provide him a way to keep Dexter talking long enough for him to plan an escape.

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He chuckled lightly, his eyes scrunching up in a way that seemed welcoming and lighthearted. The killer continued to step closer, deliberately ignoring the man’s orders.

“No need for threats, love. I only came to chat. I promise I wont harm you.” Dexter unraveled his arms from their previous position and aimed them towards the sky, signaling his lack of weapons. Nathan didn’t need to know he had other tools to aid in his plan.

Dexter slowly put his hands down to his sides, his smile never faltering. The way the warden could barely pull himself together enough to create completed sentences was almost intoxicating, his fear was like nicotine to the psychopathic killer.

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The jailor rewarded Dexter’s words with a contemptuous scowl and continued his steady walk backwards. He had no intention to ‘chat’ with the person who had tormented him for so long.

“If you didn’t mean any harm, you wouldn’t have followed me here in the first place.” Nathan’s hand snaked to his belt as he spoke, searching futilely for the taser he so dearly wanted. A lump rising in his throat once he came out empty-handed.

Internally cursing himself for his lack of foresight, the jailor took one, painstakingly long, nauseated look at the serial killer. His breath becoming increasingly ragged as their eyes met. There was going to be no point in putting up a fight without a weapon.

Turning his back to Dexter, he broke into a sprint. Pleading that he’d at least be be able to put a good 3 yards between him and the serial killer.

A rock crumbled underfoot almost immediately, sending the jailor tumbling towards the floor and ripping his lip wide open. His face forced to make contact with the unforgiving road. Feeling the wind knocked out of him, the warden splayed his legs out in desperation and ground the heel of his boot into the asphalt.

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Almost immediately Dexter broke into a jog to catch up with the jailor, though he didn’t get too far, he wouldn’t risk loosing him a second time.

The killer watched as he struggled on the ground, attempting to find footing, before he smashed his boot onto Nathan’s spine, ensuring he wouldn’t attempt to make another exit. He then knelt down, his legs on either side of the other man’s hips, keeping him firmly in place, he leaned forwards, his chest against Jonathan’s back.

“That was cute.” Dexter growled in the man’s ear before regaining his posture, running a hand through Nathan’s rustled hair and roughly tugging his head back. With his other hand he grabbed the warden’s wrist, pushing it to the cold, dusty ground.

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In what seemed like a millisecond, Nathan’s unhindered arm began raking at the man atop his legs. His entire body soon following the aggressive reaction with a surge of a adrenaline. “F-Fuck!” The jailor thrashed his head to and fro, frustrated at his inability to shake out of Dexter’s firm grip.

The killer’s nails kept themselves entwined with Nathan’s blonde hair, dragging the man towards himself. With that terrible grin still plastered on his face.

He couldn’t let the killer win over him. All of his suffering during those endless nights after the execution… couldn’t be for nothing.

Despite his best efforts, Nathan let out a nearly imperceptible whimper as his head was forced backwards yet again.

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The killer waited, his grip on Nathan’s hair tight and unforgiving. When the warden had finally finished his inevitable struggle, Dexter shifted his hand under the other man’s chin to rest on his neck, his cold, sweaty fingers pressing down on his windpipe just enough to moderately stop the air flow to his lungs.

“Shhh shhhh, that’s enough.” Dexter shushed him, his voice low but calming. He let the warden’s head fall forwards a little, still holding onto his neck.

The killer released Nathan’s wrist and reached around to his back pocket, grabbing a small bottle of liquid. He had taken it from Gene’s extensive collection of sedatives, unbeknownst to the doctor. Dexter let the other man’s head fall to the ground, freeing up his hand. He then adjusted his weight slightly to keep the exhausted jailor pinned down.

Dexter quickly uncapped the bottle, pouring a generous amount onto his sleeve; he didn’t have time for formalities. The killer then pressed the dampened fabric to Nathan’s nose and mouth, he had to be aware of the amount he took in, too much could be fatal.

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Black spots clouded the warden’s vision while he fought to take a breath, a saccharine, artificial scent lacing his mind with fatigue. Through his newfound daze, the blonde could vaguely recognize the pungent odor. Chloroform, in particular. As he had used it himself on a few of the rowdier prisoners from time to time. ‘How ironic.’ the man pondered, his thoughts becoming more and more muddled as the damp cloth tightened around his mouth.

Nathan’s head fell forwards.

—

The jailor was awakened by the familiar din of keys clinking against the cell bars and the sensation of frigid metal around his wrists. His eyes threw themselves open to observe his surroundings with disbelief. The jail? His jail? He lifted an arm to attempt a better survey, but the movement was halted by the hard, wooden chair underneath him.

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Dexter chuckled to himself, watching the warden in his newfound panic, if only every night could be as entertaining as this. The killer stalked behind Nathan, staying out of his line of sight, the same heels of his boots that had smashed down on the other man’s spine now clicking on the impenetrable, blood stained stone.

“Guess who.” Dexter challenged in a mocking tone as he covered Nathan’s eyes with his hands, the sweet smell of chemicals still lingering on his sleeve. He rested his chin only inches away from the warden’s light colored hair, leaning over him in an attempt to make the man uneasy.

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“Let me guess.. the mayor?” The jailor retorted, his voice tinged with unease. If Dexter had the motivation to drag him all the way back to jail, his intentions were already set in stone. Sooner or later, he’d tire of playing games with the jailor and go in for the kill. Of course, there was the multitude of torture devices left in the closet..

He shook his head in order to knock away the killer’s hands, accidentally nailing a hit on Dexter’s chin in the process. Out of habit alone, the warden opened his mouth to apologize. He froze mid-sentence.

He could use this to his advantage.

“Oops.” Nathan simpered, an eye flicking back to check his reaction. His own expression contorting itself to become devoid of fear.

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Dexter flinched as Nathan’s head came into contact with his chin, he hadn’t expected him to act up the way he did. It didn’t matter, though, this could still work.

“No worries, love, only a little slip up. I’m sure it won’t happen again, yes?” He snaked his left hand down the warden’s side, the other resting lightly on his throat.

“Answer me, Jonathan.” The killer growled in the other man’s ear, getting even closer, he could feel his uncoordinated breaths, hinting that past Nathan’s indifferent exterior, he was still distressed. And Dexter was still in charge.

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“N-No.” The warden struggled to respond, the facade dropping for a minute as his mind became preoccupied with Dexter’s sweaty hand on his neck.

The desire to grab the bastard by the wrists and snap them in half was overpowering. The piece of filth didn’t deserve to speak to him let alone rub his grubby little hands all over him whenever he felt like it.

The jailor went bright red and stared unabashedly at Dexter. Taking note of the smug look in his eyes.

“Nice scar.” He cocked an eyebrow once he caught sight of the wound winding around the entirety of the killer’s neck. Barely resisting the urge to smile, Nathan decided to have another go at deriding his captor. “You should get a tattoo to commemorate that or something. It’d look pretty nifty.”

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Dexter trailed his hand that had previously been resting on the warden’s neck, down to wrap around his stomach along with the left one, almost hugging him from behind.

“Yeah? I thought about it.” He didn’t, but he might as well humor the man before he really got to work.

“I’m not good at committing to things, though, I’d most likely regret it the night after. It’s too bad.”

The killer unwound his arms from Nathan’s abdomen and swiftly moved to the front of him, taking a look at his face in the dim light, he noticed a gash in the wardens lower lip. Dexter hummed and coated his thumb in saliva before wiping the dried blood away from the wound.

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Nathan flinched. His stomach boiling with rage once the killer came to a finish. He supposed it was yet another tactic to undermine his confidence. One to establish ‘control’ over him. The jailor nearly gagged at the very concept of it.

Straining his neck towards his shoulder, the warden dragged the soiled lip across his upper-sleeve and wiped away the remainder of the killer’s saliva.

“So, when d'you think you can un-cuff me? This joke’s pretty funny, I’ll give you that. But I think the novelty’s expired by now.” He donned the same forced grin from moments before, although now a bead of sweat ran down his forehead. Complimenting his shaking bottom lip. Trying to alleviate the tension with humor was unlikely to work, but at least it kept his mind off the current situation.

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The killer grinned and knelt down to Nathan's current height. Most of the warden's height came from his long legs, he observed, making him appear shorter sitting down.

"After all I've been through, you think I'm just going to release you this quickly? I think the real jokester here is you." Dexter chuckled and stroked the other man's cheek with the back of his hand, admiring his soft skin in comparison to his.

"I'm really protecting you from the dangerous people of this town, you're so naive, Jonathan." The killer cut Nathan off before he could reply, cupping the wardens cheeks with his hands.

Dexter could tell the other man didn't appreciate the sensual treatments he's been given, but it only drove him further. The warden's nonchalant facade was slowly dropping, and the killer didn't care if it took all night.

[yuanitorisfuckingdead]

Gexter-The story of how the werewolf got Gene and Dexter laid - I’m sorry, it’s not porn (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/3WaUJB0NwA This was written because I noticed a severe lack of good smuts in the Town of Salem fandom. I have permission from the owners of both characters to use them for this fic. 

I fcknig did it guys, the second to last chapter is done!!

Time to hide for 12 years without showing a sign of life only to pop out and give y’all the ending.

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Based on that club penguin post thank you @sanjuubyou for the inspiration 

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The streets of Salem were practically empty as Dexter sauntered through the town, eager to approach his destination. Only a few people remained outside, either making their way into the safety of their homes, or off to take care of some ‘business". The killer didn’t acknowledge them as he was lost in thought, planning his next scheme precisely, one wrong move could result in utter failure, and that was the last thing Dexter wanted tonight.

Tonight he would finally pay a visit to his newest obsession. He could almost imagine the horrified look on poor Jonathan’s face, not out of surprise, though, from how fast word travels in this town nothing could be kept a secret for long. He probably knew, but that just made it even better, the loyal warden not able to be at rest because of one single person. A single person with a knife.

Dexter waited in the shadows of a run down looking building, he had watched and memorized Jonathan’s routine and he knew he would be passing through soon. Almost ten minutes passed of nothing but the cold winter air biting at his cheeks before the killer noticed a familiar face.

@ask-the-warden-tos

[ask-the-warden-tos-blog]

The warden strode down his-now routine path to the jail. Puffing his chest out and keeping thoughts of the serial killer far away from his mind, he set his sights on the horizon.

A horde of crumbling buildings came into view, the blonde curling his lip at their obscuring silhouettes. He’d have to ask the new mayor one day to knock all those damned things down. They were an eyesore. Completely useless.

As he reached the group of buildings, a chill quickly shot down Nathan’s spine and he paused. He was used to it by now. The feeling that something was waiting for him at the end of the road. That Dexter was just biding his sweet time until he could dig his knife into his chest. His heartbeat banged loudly in his ears, threatening to burst out at any moment. The darkness suffocating him.

Struggling to keep calm, the jailor let his gaze swivel around in an attempt to quell his familiar paranoia, looking for the gratification that he wasn’t being watched. Giving a nod of satisfaction at the apparent lack of the serial killer, he continued on until his eyes drifted downwards. They caught on something.

A long, curvy shadow stretching from beside one of the decrepit buildings to Nathan’s feet. A shadow nothing made by man could reproduce.

His blood went cold.

[ask-serial-killer-blog]

A large, intimidating grin made its way onto Dexters face, he couldn’t help it, the way the other man completely froze in his tracks at the sight of him gave him a sick satisfaction nothing else could. He had waited long enough for this.

“Hello, Jonathan.” The killer cooed while he kicked off the wall beside him, meandering into the wardens line of sight. The moon cast a white light behind him, thanks to the lack of lanterns in this side of town, it was the only light source. Dexter had his arms crossed in front of his chest, a content look upon his face. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, friend? I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know?”

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Nathan choked up, unable to form a reply. He couldn’t even glance at Dexter’s sadistic grin without his stomach feeling as if it had been ripped from his body. The sheer relish and enthusiasm that it held from seeing him in agony being so blatant and open only deepened the petrifying churning feeling in his insides.

Swallowing panic, he replied with a tremble in his voice: “Come any closer and I swear to god you’ll never see Adaline again.” The jailor stepped backwards, stoic features barely outlined by the silver light of the moon. That statement wouldn’t deter the killer but it would hopefully provide him a way to keep Dexter talking long enough for him to plan an escape.

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He chuckled lightly, his eyes scrunching up in a way that seemed welcoming and lighthearted. The killer continued to step closer, deliberately ignoring the man’s orders.

“No need for threats, love. I only came to chat. I promise I wont harm you.” Dexter unraveled his arms from their previous position and aimed them towards the sky, signaling his lack of weapons. Nathan didn’t need to know he had other tools to aid in his plan.

Dexter slowly put his hands down to his sides, his smile never faltering. The way the warden could barely pull himself together enough to create completed sentences was almost intoxicating, his fear was like nicotine to the psychopathic killer.

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The jailor rewarded Dexter’s words with a contemptuous scowl and continued his steady walk backwards. He had no intention to ‘chat’ with the person who had tormented him for so long.

“If you didn’t mean any harm, you wouldn’t have followed me here in the first place.” Nathan’s hand snaked to his belt as he spoke, searching futilely for the taser he so dearly wanted. A lump rising in his throat once he came out empty-handed.

Internally cursing himself for his lack of foresight, the jailor took one, painstakingly long, nauseated look at the serial killer. His breath becoming increasingly ragged as their eyes met. There was going to be no point in putting up a fight without a weapon.

Turning his back to Dexter, he broke into a sprint. Pleading that he’d at least be be able to put a good 3 yards between him and the serial killer.

A rock crumbled underfoot almost immediately, sending the jailor tumbling towards the floor and ripping his lip wide open. His face forced to make contact with the unforgiving road. Feeling the wind knocked out of him, the warden splayed his legs out in desperation and ground the heel of his boot into the asphalt.

[ask-serial-killer-blog]

Almost immediately Dexter broke into a jog to catch up with the jailor, though he didn’t get too far, he wouldn’t risk loosing him a second time.

The killer watched as he struggled on the ground, attempting to find footing, before he smashed his boot onto Nathan’s spine, ensuring he wouldn’t attempt to make another exit. He then knelt down, his legs on either side of the other man’s hips, keeping him firmly in place, he leaned forwards, his chest against Jonathan’s back.

“That was cute.” Dexter growled in the man’s ear before regaining his posture, running a hand through Nathan’s rustled hair and roughly tugging his head back. With his other hand he grabbed the warden’s wrist, pushing it to the cold, dusty ground.

[ask-the-warden-tos-blog]

In what seemed like a millisecond, Nathan’s unhindered arm began raking at the man atop his legs. His entire body soon following the aggressive reaction with a surge of a adrenaline. “F-Fuck!” The jailor thrashed his head to and fro, frustrated at his inability to shake out of Dexter’s firm grip.

The killer’s nails kept themselves entwined with Nathan’s blonde hair, dragging the man towards himself. With that terrible grin still plastered on his face.

He couldn’t let the killer win over him. All of his suffering during those endless nights after the execution… couldn’t be for nothing.

Despite his best efforts, Nathan let out a nearly imperceptible whimper as his head was forced backwards yet again.

[ask-serial-killer-blog]

The killer waited, his grip on Nathan’s hair tight and unforgiving. When the warden had finally finished his inevitable struggle, Dexter shifted his hand under the other man’s chin to rest on his neck, his cold, sweaty fingers pressing down on his windpipe just enough to moderately stop the air flow to his lungs.

“Shhh shhhh, that’s enough.” Dexter shushed him, his voice low but calming. He let the warden’s head fall forwards a little, still holding onto his neck.

The killer released Nathan’s wrist and reached around to his back pocket, grabbing a small bottle of liquid. He had taken it from Gene’s extensive collection of sedatives, unbeknownst to the doctor. Dexter let the other man’s head fall to the ground, freeing up his hand. He then adjusted his weight slightly to keep the exhausted jailor pinned down.

Dexter quickly uncapped the bottle, pouring a generous amount onto his sleeve; he didn’t have time for formalities. The killer then pressed the dampened fabric to Nathan’s nose and mouth, he had to be aware of the amount he took in, too much could be fatal.

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Black spots clouded the warden’s vision while he fought to take a breath, a saccharine, artificial scent lacing his mind with fatigue. Through his newfound daze, the blonde could vaguely recognize the pungent odor. Chloroform, in particular. As he had used it himself on a few of the rowdier prisoners from time to time. ‘How ironic.’ the man pondered, his thoughts becoming more and more muddled as the damp cloth tightened around his mouth.

Nathan’s head fell forwards.

—

The jailor was awakened by the familiar din of keys clinking against the cell bars and the sensation of frigid metal around his wrists. His eyes threw themselves open to observe his surroundings with disbelief. The jail? His jail? He lifted an arm to attempt a better survey, but the movement was halted by the hard, wooden chair underneath him.

[ask-serial-killer-blog]

Dexter chuckled to himself, watching the warden in his newfound panic, if only every night could be as entertaining as this. The killer stalked behind Nathan, staying out of his line of sight, the same heels of his boots that had smashed down on the other man’s spine now clicking on the impenetrable, blood stained stone.

“Guess who.” Dexter challenged in a mocking tone as he covered Nathan’s eyes with his hands, the sweet smell of chemicals still lingering on his sleeve. He rested his chin only inches away from the warden’s light colored hair, leaning over him in an attempt to make the man uneasy.

[ask-the-warden-tos-blog]

“Let me guess.. the mayor?” The jailor retorted, his voice tinged with unease. If Dexter had the motivation to drag him all the way back to jail, his intentions were already set in stone. Sooner or later, he’d tire of playing games with the jailor and go in for the kill. Of course, there was the multitude of torture devices left in the closet..

He shook his head in order to knock away the killer’s hands, accidentally nailing a hit on Dexter’s chin in the process. Out of habit alone, the warden opened his mouth to apologize. He froze mid-sentence.

He could use this to his advantage.

“Oops.” Nathan simpered, an eye flicking back to check his reaction. His own expression contorting itself to become devoid of fear.

[ask-serial-killer-blog]

Dexter flinched as Nathan’s head came into contact with his chin, he hadn’t expected him to act up the way he did. It didn’t matter, though, this could still work.

“No worries, love, only a little slip up. I’m sure it won’t happen again, yes?” He snaked his left hand down the warden’s side, the other resting lightly on his throat.

“Answer me, Jonathan.” The killer growled in the other man’s ear, getting even closer, he could feel his uncoordinated breaths, hinting that past Nathan’s indifferent exterior, he was still distressed. And Dexter was still in charge.

[ask-the-warden-tos-blog]

“N-No.” The warden struggled to respond, the facade dropping for a minute as his mind became preoccupied with Dexter’s sweaty hand on his neck.

The desire to grab the bastard by the wrists and snap them in half was overpowering. The piece of filth didn’t deserve to speak to him let alone rub his grubby little hands all over him whenever he felt like it.

The jailor went bright red and stared unabashedly at Dexter. Taking note of the smug look in his eyes.

“Nice scar.” He cocked an eyebrow once he caught sight of the wound winding around the entirety of the killer’s neck. Barely resisting the urge to smile, Nathan decided to have another go at deriding his captor. “You should get a tattoo to commemorate that or something. It’d look pretty nifty.”

[ask-serial-killer-blog]

Dexter trailed his hand that had previously been resting on the warden's neck, down to wrap around his stomach along with the left one, almost hugging him from behind.

"Yeah? I thought about it." He didn't, but he might as well humor the man before he really got to work.

"I'm not good at committing to things, though, I'd most likely regret it the night after. It's too bad."

The killer unwound his arms from Nathan's abdomen and swiftly moved to the front of him, taking a look at his face in the dim light, he noticed a gash in the wardens lower lip. Dexter hummed and coated his thumb in saliva before wiping the dried blood away from the wound.

[ask-serial-killer-blog]

CANT WAIT TO SEE WHERE THIS GOES. I NEED THAT RP LIKE I NEED AIR

//FFFJNG S AM E IM HYPED

[ask-serial-killer-blog]

The streets of Salem were practically empty as Dexter sauntered through the town, eager to approach his destination. Only a few people remained outside, either making their way into the safety of their homes, or off to take care of some ‘business". The killer didn’t acknowledge them as he was lost in thought, planning his next scheme precisely, one wrong move could result in utter failure, and that was the last thing Dexter wanted tonight.

Tonight he would finally pay a visit to his newest obsession. He could almost imagine the horrified look on poor Jonathan’s face, not out of surprise, though, from how fast word travels in this town nothing could be kept a secret for long. He probably knew, but that just made it even better, the loyal warden not able to be at rest because of one single person. A single person with a knife.

Dexter waited in the shadows of a run down looking building, he had watched and memorized Jonathan’s routine and he knew he would be passing through soon. Almost ten minutes passed of nothing but the cold winter air biting at his cheeks before the killer noticed a familiar face.

@ask-the-warden-tos

[ask-the-warden-tos-blog]

The warden strode down his-now routine path to the jail. Puffing his chest out and keeping thoughts of the serial killer far away from his mind, he set his sights on the horizon.

A horde of crumbling buildings came into view, the blonde curling his lip at their obscuring silhouettes. He’d have to ask the new mayor one day to knock all those damned things down. They were an eyesore. Completely useless.

As he reached the group of buildings, a chill quickly shot down Nathan’s spine and he paused. He was used to it by now. The feeling that something was waiting for him at the end of the road. That Dexter was just biding his sweet time until he could dig his knife into his chest. His heartbeat banged loudly in his ears, threatening to burst out at any moment. The darkness suffocating him.

Struggling to keep calm, the jailor let his gaze swivel around in an attempt to quell his familiar paranoia, looking for the gratification that he wasn’t being watched. Giving a nod of satisfaction at the apparent lack of the serial killer, he continued on until his eyes drifted downwards. They caught on something.

A long, curvy shadow stretching from beside one of the decrepit buildings to Nathan’s feet. A shadow nothing made by man could reproduce.

His blood went cold.

[ask-serial-killer-blog]

A large, intimidating grin made its way onto Dexters face, he couldn’t help it, the way the other man completely froze in his tracks at the sight of him gave him a sick satisfaction nothing else could. He had waited long enough for this.

“Hello, Jonathan.” The killer cooed while he kicked off the wall beside him, meandering into the wardens line of sight. The moon cast a white light behind him, thanks to the lack of lanterns in this side of town, it was the only light source. Dexter had his arms crossed in front of his chest, a content look upon his face. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, friend? I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know?”

[ask-the-warden-tos-blog]

Nathan choked up, unable to form a reply. He couldn’t even glance at Dexter’s sadistic grin without his stomach feeling as if it had been ripped from his body. The sheer relish and enthusiasm that it held from seeing him in agony being so blatant and open only deepened the petrifying churning feeling in his insides.

Swallowing panic, he replied with a tremble in his voice: “Come any closer and I swear to god you’ll never see Adaline again.” The jailor stepped backwards, stoic features barely outlined by the silver light of the moon. That statement wouldn’t deter the killer but it would hopefully provide him a way to keep Dexter talking long enough for him to plan an escape.

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He chuckled lightly, his eyes scrunching up in a way that seemed welcoming and lighthearted. The killer continued to step closer, deliberately ignoring the man’s orders.

“No need for threats, love. I only came to chat. I promise I wont harm you.” Dexter unraveled his arms from their previous position and aimed them towards the sky, signaling his lack of weapons. Nathan didn’t need to know he had other tools to aid in his plan.

Dexter slowly put his hands down to his sides, his smile never faltering. The way the warden could barely pull himself together enough to create completed sentences was almost intoxicating, his fear was like nicotine to the psychopathic killer.

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The jailor rewarded Dexter’s words with a contemptuous scowl and continued his steady walk backwards. He had no intention to ‘chat’ with the person who had tormented him for so long.

“If you didn’t mean any harm, you wouldn’t have followed me here in the first place.” Nathan’s hand snaked to his belt as he spoke, searching futilely for the taser he so dearly wanted. A lump rising in his throat once he came out empty-handed.

Internally cursing himself for his lack of foresight, the jailor took one, painstakingly long, nauseated look at the serial killer. His breath becoming increasingly ragged as their eyes met. There was going to be no point in putting up a fight without a weapon.

Turning his back to Dexter, he broke into a sprint. Pleading that he’d at least be be able to put a good 3 yards between him and the serial killer.

A rock crumbled underfoot almost immediately, sending the jailor tumbling towards the floor and ripping his lip wide open. His face forced to make contact with the unforgiving road. Feeling the wind knocked out of him, the warden splayed his legs out in desperation and ground the heel of his boot into the asphalt.

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Almost immediately Dexter broke into a jog to catch up with the jailor, though he didn’t get too far, he wouldn’t risk loosing him a second time.

The killer watched as he struggled on the ground, attempting to find footing, before he smashed his boot onto Nathan’s spine, ensuring he wouldn’t attempt to make another exit. He then knelt down, his legs on either side of the other man’s hips, keeping him firmly in place, he leaned forwards, his chest against Jonathan’s back.

“That was cute.” Dexter growled in the man’s ear before regaining his posture, running a hand through Nathan’s rustled hair and roughly tugging his head back. With his other hand he grabbed the warden’s wrist, pushing it to the cold, dusty ground.

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In what seemed like a millisecond, Nathan’s unhindered arm began raking at the man atop his legs. His entire body soon following the aggressive reaction with a surge of a adrenaline. “F-Fuck!” The jailor thrashed his head to and fro, frustrated at his inability to shake out of Dexter’s firm grip.

The killer’s nails kept themselves entwined with Nathan’s blonde hair, dragging the man towards himself. With that terrible grin still plastered on his face.

He couldn’t let the killer win over him. All of his suffering during those endless nights after the execution… couldn’t be for nothing.

Despite his best efforts, Nathan let out a nearly imperceptible whimper as his head was forced backwards yet again.

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The killer waited, his grip on Nathan’s hair tight and unforgiving. When the warden had finally finished his inevitable struggle, Dexter shifted his hand under the other man’s chin to rest on his neck, his cold, sweaty fingers pressing down on his windpipe just enough to moderately stop the air flow to his lungs.

“Shhh shhhh, that’s enough.” Dexter shushed him, his voice low but calming. He let the warden’s head fall forwards a little, still holding onto his neck.

The killer released Nathan’s wrist and reached around to his back pocket, grabbing a small bottle of liquid. He had taken it from Gene’s extensive collection of sedatives, unbeknownst to the doctor. Dexter let the other man’s head fall to the ground, freeing up his hand. He then adjusted his weight slightly to keep the exhausted jailor pinned down.

Dexter quickly uncapped the bottle, pouring a generous amount onto his sleeve; he didn’t have time for formalities. The killer then pressed the dampened fabric to Nathan’s nose and mouth, he had to be aware of the amount he took in, too much could be fatal.

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Black spots clouded the warden’s vision while he fought to take a breath, a saccharine, artificial scent lacing his mind with fatigue. Through his newfound daze, the blonde could vaguely recognize the pungent odor. Chloroform, in particular. As he had used it himself on a few of the rowdier prisoners from time to time. ‘How ironic.’ the man pondered, his thoughts becoming more and more muddled as the damp cloth tightened around his mouth.

Nathan’s head fell forwards.

—

The jailor was awakened by the familiar din of keys clinking against the cell bars and the sensation of frigid metal around his wrists. His eyes threw themselves open to observe his surroundings with disbelief. The jail? His jail? He lifted an arm to attempt a better survey, but the movement was halted by the hard, wooden chair underneath him.

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Dexter chuckled to himself, watching the warden in his newfound panic, if only every night could be as entertaining as this. The killer stalked behind Nathan, staying out of his line of sight, the same heels of his boots that had smashed down on the other man’s spine now clicking on the impenetrable, blood stained stone.

“Guess who.” Dexter challenged in a mocking tone as he covered Nathan’s eyes with his hands, the sweet smell of chemicals still lingering on his sleeve. He rested his chin only inches away from the warden’s light colored hair, leaning over him in an attempt to make the man uneasy.

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“Let me guess.. the mayor?” The jailor retorted, his voice tinged with unease. If Dexter had the motivation to drag him all the way back to jail, his intentions were already set in stone. Sooner or later, he’d tire of playing games with the jailor and go in for the kill. Of course, there was the multitude of torture devices left in the closet..

He shook his head in order to knock away the killer’s hands, accidentally nailing a hit on Dexter’s chin in the process. Out of habit alone, the warden opened his mouth to apologize. He froze mid-sentence.

He could use this to his advantage.

“Oops.” Nathan simpered, an eye flicking back to check his reaction. His own expression contorting itself to become devoid of fear.

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Dexter flinched as Nathan's head came into contact with his chin, he hadn't expected him to act up the way he did. It didn't matter, though, this could still work.

"No worries, love, only a little slip up. I'm sure it won't happen again, yes?" He snaked his left hand down the warden's side, the other resting lightly on his throat.

"Answer me, Jonathan." The killer growled in the other man's ear, getting even closer, he could feel his uncoordinated breaths, hinting that past Nathan's indifferent exterior, he was still distressed. And Dexter was still in charge.

[deadlyflovrish-blog]

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here u go

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>:-(

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im gay for mccree