Janaina Medeiros
izzy's playlists!
blake kathryn
NASA
Sade Olutola
YOU ARE THE REASON
todays bird
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
tannertan36
EXPECTATIONS
One Nice Bug Per Day
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Kiana Khansmith
if i look back, i am lost
⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ
titsay
Origami Around
cherry valley forever
Stranger Things
Sweet Seals For You, Always
seen from Malaysia
seen from Italy
seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Brazil
seen from India
seen from France
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Greece
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seen from United States
@s0litarysab0teur
reading gunnarâs book, i learned that the nonsense leather spouts near the end actually has english behind it. most of it made it to said book.
i find this useless knowledge fascinating.
@chocolategir YO
Okay but the last one, when he screamed.. did that really need to be captioned? Like the other two he was saying things but the last one was just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
i think my saddest moment as an Australian was finding out that the rest of the world doesnât say ânever eat soggy weetbixâ to figure out the order of the compass
Put in the tags where youâre from and how you memorized the order of the compass
IâM NOT CRYING, YOUâRE CRYING
if you ever feel stupid or weak or powerless, just remember that I, am not. And I am out there, very dangerous and I am looking for you. Good luck
â I want Michael Myers to raw me so hard hat i lose functionality in my legsđ¤đđ â
Jake is a Rat Bastard¿¿¿ but also a Gentleman. He will eat shoes but steal his fatherâs credit card to buy you ones if ya need them.
Just @ me next time
Please like or reblog this post if youâd be interested in writing with Michael Myers from Halloween.
thot destroyer 9000
I have never seen a single Nightmare on Elm Street movie.
are you sure? This is almost canon
I will stomp on you.
@itsfreddybitch
A rather odd choice of music for the children train ride in Omsk.
therapist: du hast train isnt real and cant hurt you
du hast train:
@jsonvoorhees
s0litarysab0teurâ:
He felt a large, strong hand wrap around his ankle and gripped at the dirt in an attempt to keep himself from being pulled back. Exactly what was the killer doing this for? He hadnât been killed yet, and he didnât understand why. He was pulled back almost effortlessly, dragging through the dirt and causing pain to shoot up his injured leg. He put his hands up defensively, but slowly let them down as the absence of any weapon coming down on him. He swallowed thickly, furrowing his brows. He shied down as the killer growled things at him, confusion buzzing with the pain in his head and making it hard to understand. He didnât trust he killer, and usually holding still got you dead a lot faster. But he listened just this once, not exactly having a choice. He was certain that moving could only make whatever was about to happen a lot worse anyway.
This was unlike any interaction he had ever had with a killer. There was a time that the hillbilly hadnât killed him right away in favour of petting a rough hand through his hair, mumbling something about how soft it was. He then proceeded to tear a chunk of it out and kill him anyway. But for some reason the trapper didnât seem like he was going to kill him. The hand being outstretched made him flinch, but he slowly relaxed again as he saw his palm was up and his eyes focused on something. He put a hand to his scarf, giving the killer a questioning and mistrusting look. What did he need it for..? Jake held his scarf near and dear to him, one of the only bits of comfort he had in this place. When the killer grumbled something else, Jake winced at the rough way his words came out before hesitantly taking off his scarf and putting it in his hand. He was going to bandage it..? He couldnât think of a single reason why the killer would want to help him. But, his fingers felt colder and colder as the time ticked by, blood dripping down his leg and onto the forest floor. Jake nodded and gave him a firm, pained look. âOkayâŚâ
The MacMillan heir was reminded of a deer heâd found in the woods when he was younger. It had been injured, young, scared. Evan had moved very slowly. He had made soothing sounds. He was able to get close enough to the poor thing. It looked so timid, but there was a kind of fearful trust there. The animal had a broken leg. Evan was not sure how that had happened. He had seen the after effect, not the cause and could hardly ask the deer. He considered helping it in some way. Picking it up, carrying it home somehow. His brother wouldâve wanted that. His father would not have approved. Evan killed the thing and dragged the body home. It had been delicious and his father had been pleased.
The Entity did not need the survivor dead in that moment and seemed distant enough to not care if Evan carried the injured man home. How strange that a dark, many-limbed god seemed more approving of mercy than Archie MacMillan had seemed to his son. Or, at least, less disapproving.
Once the scarf was placed in his hand, Evan gave the survivor a small nod. He appreciated not having to ask a third time. He mightâve killed the other if that had been needed. The material was soft in his large hand. Worn. He rubbed it between his fingers for a moment before he looked down at the injury. Perhaps his find would bleed out regardless of what Evan did. That would be less than ideal, but not the worst to happen to the large killer. The soft fabric was wrapped tight around the bleeding leg. There was enough to wrap it around a few times before it was tied with a simple knot.
Leaving the guy there was hardly an option. Heâd likely hurt himself if he tried to walk on the leg. Evan couldnât imagine the scarf survivor just sitting around waiting to heal. It would heal faster than normal because the Entity did not leave anyone hurt for long unless punishment is involved. Still. The large killer grunted, âDonât struggle. Yer safe.â He reached out for the survivor, intending to pick him up and carry him to the old wooden building Evan stayed in when not in trials. It felt strange to carry the survivor in his arms instead of just slinging the body over his shoulder, but he hoped it would invoke less of a struggle. MacMillan had a simple bed with threadbare sheets and a well worn pillow he could set his unintentional guest up in until the leg was good enough to walk on.
His whole body was tense and deadly still, fingers clenched into the dirt, holding broken twigs and cold dirt roughly into his palm. A cold breeze brushed his soft bangs into his eyes, and he shook his head a little to get them to move. Heâd never been in this sort of situation. Usually, when he got hurt he had to deal with it himself. Living alone in the woods didnât exactly give you anyway of getting help if needed. He couldnât count how many ankles heâs sprained and had to hobble back to his home and deal with it himself. This was much different he supposed, not only in severity of his injury but the entire situation.
The wound would most likely heal within the day, with the entityâs involvement of course. Couldnât have one of its precious toys not in working order. It wasnât fun to watch something die if it didnât have a chance in the first place. He hissed and bit into his wrist as the scarf was wrapped around the torn skin. Even the soft texture of the grey fabric seemed like sand paper to the swelling, exposed flesh, and he felt his eyes water as it was wrapped several times and then tied in a rough knot. He hung his head, swallowing the pained noises.
Again, he tensed as he felt the killer move. The grumble about him being safe did little to sooth him, but as the killer slowly put an arm under his legs and the other around his back, Jake just seemed to melt a little with the pressure of arms against him. Oddly safe, for being in the arms of a man who had killed him more times than he could count. He slowly took some breaths, trying to get the pain into somewhere he could manage. The rough jaws of the trap where brutal on a good day, and having them moved around had really did a number on him. His eyes fell closed, arms wrapped over his torso and his whole body slightly shaking from the coldness of blood loss, and the trauma.
David put his hand on Jake's head and ruffled the hair "hey punk"
The saboteur shied away, Batting the hand off and tucking his lower face into his scarf. âAyy... itâs messy enough already! âSides. Iâm not the punk here, you are.â He gently punched Davidâs shoulder, a slight smile hidden under his scarf.
s0litarysab0teurâ:
Blood gushed out in the split second he managed to pull the metal out of his skin. It was wet, soaked through his pant leg and into his shoe, and even as the metal jaws set back into place, the trickle of blood didnât stop. His breath was ragged, clenched teeth and scarf heating it into small plumes of breath illuminated by a distant light. His eyes where clenched closed, desperately trying to hold in the noises and deal with the pain enough to figure out what he could do to get out of this situation. He put a foot to the one side of the metal jaws, his hands gripping the other side. It was then that his heart pounded louder in his ears. Was the killer coming? Shit.. of course he was.. he could feel when these where triggered. In his panic, he didnât think to keep trying to get out. Instead he tried to push himself back further into the darkness to hide.
The pounding grew louder and louder, until a large shadow blocked out the distant light. The scarf slowly fell out of his mouth and he froze, trying to just sink through the wall behind him and disappear. The sigh that came from him only served to startle jake further, body tense like a bowstring as he stared up at the killer. He weakly tried to move back against the chain again, kicking a little bit in his direction as he knelt down. He was fully expecting to be morid, but when the killerâs hands only grabbed either side of the trap, a deep voice rumbling at him to hold still, he couldnât help but just listen. The jaws made a snap as they clunked open, and jake cried out in pain again. âFffffâŚ.- shit..â he hissed, taking a deep breath and letting his shaking hands hold his wounded leg. Blood ran quickly out through his fingers and soaked his pant leg Further. He looked back up at the killerâs mask as he spoke again. âY-yeah⌠great observation..-â he pulled the foot away slowly, wincing and starting to push himself away all of a sudden, trying to use the wall to get further away, but the second his foot hit the ground his knee gave out and he fell again. He made another pained noise in his throat, still obviously panicking.
It was not surprising to see the survivor try to back away, but it was a hassle. The large killer huffed and reached out. He grabbed the survivorâs uninjured ankle and tugged to bring the man closer. âHold. Still,â He growled, âYer bleeding.â Maybe it would be better to just lift the intruder up and place him on the nearest hook. Or take him down to one in the basement. There were no other survivors around, no one to save him. Tempting, but ultimately useless. Evan did not earn favor from the Entity for sacrifices out of the trial. He was not entirely sure the Entity would accept the gift.
MacMillan needed something to wrap the wound in. Something to help with the bleeding until he could get the survivor somewhere where he can get better medical attention. That campfire the other survivors frequented or something. He didnât have anything he could use, but that scarf the other always worse- there was potential there. He held his free hand out and flexed his fingers, âGimme scarf.â If he couldnât get it heâd have to come up with something else. Or let the survivor bleed. The Trapper was not horribly concerned either way. He doubted the survivor really understood what he was doing and added on, âBandage.â He hoped that would explain things well enough; Evanâs burnt throat made talking difficult.
He felt a large, strong hand wrap around his ankle and gripped at the dirt in an attempt to keep himself from being pulled back. Exactly what was the killer doing this for? He hadnât been killed yet, and he didnât understand why. He was pulled back almost effortlessly, dragging through the dirt and causing pain to shoot up his injured leg. He put his hands up defensively, but slowly let them down as the absence of any weapon coming down on him. He swallowed thickly, furrowing his brows. He shied down as the killer growled things at him, confusion buzzing with the pain in his head and making it hard to understand. He didnât trust he killer, and usually holding still got you dead a lot faster. But he listened just this once, not exactly having a choice. He was certain that moving could only make whatever was about to happen a lot worse anyway.
This was unlike any interaction he had ever had with a killer. There was a time that the hillbilly hadnât killed him right away in favour of petting a rough hand through his hair, mumbling something about how soft it was. He then proceeded to tear a chunk of it out and kill him anyway. But for some reason the trapper didnât seem like he was going to kill him. The hand being outstretched made him flinch, but he slowly relaxed again as he saw his palm was up and his eyes focused on something. He put a hand to his scarf, giving the killer a questioning and mistrusting look. What did he need it for..? Jake held his scarf near and dear to him, one of the only bits of comfort he had in this place. When the killer grumbled something else, Jake winced at the rough way his words came out before hesitantly taking off his scarf and putting it in his hand. He was going to bandage it..? He couldnât think of a single reason why the killer would want to help him. But, his fingers felt colder and colder as the time ticked by, blood dripping down his leg and onto the forest floor. Jake nodded and gave him a firm, pained look. âOkay...â
@themiserablesmilingkiller
When he wasnât in a trail, some of the places in the realm where almost peaceful. Most of the killers had no interest in the chase when it wasnât required, and the saboteur quickly learned with areas to avoid. Haddonfield, the hospital. Cold wind farms unless he was really really careful. But he found his favorite of them all had to be the Macmillan estate to be one of his favorites. The trapper always seemed just the right level of tired or busy to either not see jake, or ignore him when he did spot the survivor. Though, without the constant threat, Jake was able to focus on being a lot more careful to avoid him. Times like this where some where he actually found some piece.
Cool fog brushes his face, still and unbothered by frantic running or slashes of blades through flesh. E made his way along at a decent speed, trying to find a hook he could practice on, or maybe some old scraps of paper or charcoal he could use for his small collection of crow drawings. He found the small things kept him sane. A few times, his heart began to pound in his ears, and he just moved away, thinking it best to just avoid any confrontation. He padded along the side of a building, finding the structures the best place to come across some of the better things to scavenge. A bird made a noise in the distance, and he brought his eyes up to see the creature. A projection of the entity, he knew, but he still liked to pretend they where like the birds from his home in the forest. He smiled slightly at the bird, slowly stepping past a window.
He heard it before he felt it. A harsh metal noise, then the squish of his own flesh. Eyes widened, and a hard breath was drawn in, scraping past his vocal cords and making him let out a smothered sound of agony. He hit the ground a moment later, shaking hands desperately reaching down to his injured leg, studded pants tearing around the harsh embrace of the metal teeth. Another pained sound made its way out of him, before he shoved his scarf into his teeth and bit down. He crawled as far into the corner as the chain of the thing would allow, breathing elevating as agony coursed through him. Had he misjudged the trapper? Or was this just an accident? The saboteur didnât have the focus to think about it, especially as he started to panic and try to pull the metal jaws apart and off of him. He only managed about a centameter before they slipped out of his grasp, clamping back down into his flesh and eliciting another pained whimper out of him, muffled through the scarf. Above him, the crow..- no.. the part of the entity watched him struggle. Beast eyes in the darkness holding no Pity nor emotion of any sort.
The time between trials was a time for rest. A time for planning for the next trial. I time for reflection. A time for boredom most of all. Evan yawned as he polished his mask. He wanted to be presentable for his next trial; look his best. His father had taught him well. Look the part. Be respectable. Most of all, work hard. He had done well last trial, but not as good as he wouldâve liked. Heâd have to change his tactics a bit. Think harder about his trap placement. He considered gong to other areas and walk around. Figure out where best to start his traps, then update placement as the match goes on.
He lifted himself from the old wooden chair heâd been in, a relief to the furniture that had bore his weight. Then he slipped his cleaned mask on. He headed out. Perhaps heâd visit the Wraith first, or that damned fool Hillbilly. Those were the ones he respected most. Then again, the newer ones to show up had areas he was not as familiar with. It would be better to explore those areas. Figure them out. He also wanted to scare those Legion children. They reminded him of himself in his youth, and that made him angry. He had a trap for each and every one of them.
As Evan walked he was not too lost in his thoughts to ignore the survivor wandering around his realm. He glanced the saboteur and half considered stalking him. Possibly even entering a chase or attacking. There was no point outside of a trial, but it could provide for some amusement. The MacMillan heir decided against it and instead continued towards his destination. If he wandered long enough heâd enter fog and be whisked away to a different area. The direction did not matter very much. It was one of the perks to living within the Entityâs realm; no need for directions, just intent. Or let the Entity decide and spit him out somewhere. It made travel easy. The killer was almost at the border of his domain when he sensed a trap snapping shut. There was only one other around; it was not a mystery who his trap had found.
He sighed and turned back. It didnât take very long for the Trapper to find the survivor. It was always amusing how much they hurt and how they tried so hard to get out of his traps. Too bad this was not a trial. He sighed wistfully and knelt by the saboteur. âHold still.â Evan laid his hands on the trap and easily pulled it apart. He would normally have just taken the guy to a hook, but this was no trial. There was no need. He watched from behind his mask, mostly indifferent, âYer bleedinâ.â
Blood gushed out in the split second he managed to pull the metal out of his skin. It was wet, soaked through his pant leg and into his shoe, and even as the metal jaws set back into place, the trickle of blood didnât stop. His breath was ragged, clenched teeth and scarf heating it into small plumes of breath illuminated by a distant light. His eyes where clenched closed, desperately trying to hold in the noises and deal with the pain enough to figure out what he could do to get out of this situation. He put a foot to the one side of the metal jaws, his hands gripping the other side. It was then that his heart pounded louder in his ears. Was the killer coming? Shit.. of course he was.. he could feel when these where triggered. In his panic, he didnât think to keep trying to get out. Instead he tried to push himself back further into the darkness to hide.
The pounding grew louder and louder, until a large shadow blocked out the distant light. The scarf slowly fell out of his mouth and he froze, trying to just sink through the wall behind him and disappear. The sigh that came from him only served to startle jake further, body tense like a bowstring as he stared up at the killer. He weakly tried to move back against the chain again, kicking a little bit in his direction as he knelt down. He was fully expecting to be morid, but when the killerâs hands only grabbed either side of the trap, a deep voice rumbling at him to hold still, he couldnât help but just listen. The jaws made a snap as they clunked open, and jake cried out in pain again. âFffff....- shit..â he hissed, taking a deep breath and letting his shaking hands hold his wounded leg. Blood ran quickly out through his fingers and soaked his pant leg Further. He looked back up at the killerâs mask as he spoke again. âY-yeah... great observation..-â he pulled the foot away slowly, wincing and starting to push himself away all of a sudden, trying to use the wall to get further away, but the second his foot hit the ground his knee gave out and he fell again. He made another pained noise in his throat, still obviously panicking.
