[suckerpnch]

𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚒𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 ─ 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 .

𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔯𝔭𝔫𝔠𝔥 — an independent, mostly horror-focused multimuse blog featuring original characters. dark & mature themes ahead. written by matt, 21+, he/him. mid to low activity. mdni.

rules & muse list temporarily under read more.

this is primarily a horror-focused blog, which means dark themes such as violence, gore, blood, and other potentially disturbing content may be present. i'll always do my best to tag content appropriately, but things may occasionally slip through the cracks. if any of these themes are triggering or make you uncomfortable, please do not follow. if you're under 21, do not interact.

i'm not the biggest fan of writing smut!!! there may be references to sexually explicit storylines, and i may occasionally write sexual scenes if they naturally serve the plot, but i'm very unlikely to write smut for the sake of smut or build threads around the sole goal of reaching a sex scene. i'm always happy to fade to black when appropriate.

all of my muses are bisexual. some have preferences, some don't, but unless stated otherwise, most of my starters and plots are open to muses of any gender or sexuality. while i enjoy shipping when it develops naturally, it's not a priority here. i love exploring all kinds of dynamics, whether that's friendships, family relationships, rivalries, enemies, found family, and everything in between.

i'll use gifs, icons, or nothing at all. i'm not picky and usually mirror my partner's formatting. though if i'm using icons, i only have one per muse, so they're just little decorations to keep the dash pretty rather than expression indicators.

i'm most comfortable roleplaying here on tumblr, though i may be open to writing on discord as well. feel free to ask!!

and lastly, while this blog leans heavily into darker/horror stuff, that doesn't mean that's all you'll find here. i'm always happy to write softer, lighter, and more casual threads too. <3

roster.

ISAIAH CROWE. mid twenties / forties. 6'3" / 190 cm. human. eater. follows the road wherever it leads, carrying a hunger he long ago stopped trying to understand. tells himself he only takes from the kind of people no one will miss. it used to feel like a rule, but it became a habit somewhere along the way. inspired by bones and all. garrett hedlund. younger & older versions available.

SILAS TURNER. thirties. 5'9" / 175 cm. reanimated corpse. died once, under circumstances left intentionally unknown. brought back by someone who refused to let him stay gone. what he was, who he was to them, and how he died is dependent on plot/thread. intelligence, behavior, and awareness vary. inspired by american horror story: coven. kyle gallner.

STEWART “STU” RHODES. mid twenties. 6'5" / 196 cm. human. musician. worked at the local record store and played gigs around town with his band, convinced success was just around the corner. all of that stopped mattering the moment he fell in love, even though he never really believed in it. became the kind of man who'd move mountains for his significant other, and bury bodies if he had to. inspired by obsession. jacob elordi. timeline flexible; open to pre-wish & post-wish as well.

LOGAN SHEFFIELD. forties. 6'2" / 187 cm. human. widowed father. daughter went missing in a town that should not exist and he has been searching ever since. he keeps moving, keeps looking, keeps going, even when nothing makes sense anymore. follows clues that don't add up into places that feel like nightmares. too stubborn to break. inspired by silent hill (1999). jake gyllenhaal.

ANNA MADISON / MIA WAKEFIELD. early twenties. 5'5" / 165 cm. human. exotic dancer. lives under a false identity after escaping a cult she once helped build and devoted years of her life to. now drifts through cheap motel rooms and no-name towns, never staying anywhere long enough to feel safe. convinced something from her past is still following her. lindsay lohan in i know who killed me.

OTTO BARKER. early twenties. 5'10" / 178 cm. human. skater. mall employee. backyard wrestler. still lives with his mom after his dad left when he was young. stuck in the same suburb he's spent his whole life trying to outgrow. spends shifts folding clothes he can't afford and weekends throwing himself off roofs for an audience of twelve. michael cimino.

CODY BENNETT. thirties. 6'0" / 183 cm. human. tattoo artist. drug dealer. one of the few people who walked away. survived the kind of night people only tell stories about. keeps to himself most of the time and says little. found a life somewhere between tattoo ink and backroom deals, but never stopped waiting for something to come back for him. ryan gosling in the place beyond the pines.

GABRIEL SUNDERLAND. thirties / forties. 6'1" / 185 cm. tulpa. born from a wish. his face reminds people of someone they lost, though he has no idea why. remembers a childhood that never happened and people who never existed. carries memories that belong to someone else, yet somehow they feel like his own. often wonders where they came from and whether he was ever meant to exist at all. inspired by silent hill 2. charlie hunnam.

[musings-of-a-rose]

I know he's filming Mitch, but damn is this Benny coded.

[chains0flove]

“trust  me.  that's  not  what  he  thought.  he  didn't  care  about  anything  that  –  he  never  acknowledged  anything  that  happened.”  kylie  rambled  under  her  breath  through  hysterical  tears.  she  didn't  enjoy  dwelling  on  the  trauma  that  her  stepbrother  put  her  through.  it  was  an  evil  thing  to  think,  but  a  part  of  her  felt  relieved  that  he  was  gone.  now  there  would  be  no  more  reminders.  goddamn  it.  she  felt  stu's  large  hands  on  her  face  and  didn't  push  him  away  this  time.  "it  won't  matter.  the  cops'll  come  to  me.  ask  questions.  everyone  in  our  family  knows  how  he  treated  me.  knows  how  much  i  hated  him."  she  chewed  on  her  bottom  lip  worriedly.  “plus,  i  have  a  record,  so–” 

[suckerpnch]

"then i did the right thing," he whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer but needing it anyway. always needing it. "didn't i, baby?" he watched her face, searching for any flicker of the relief he knew she felt. he'd replayed her words a thousand times in his head, when she was half-delirious at 3 a.m., saying that she wished her stepbrother would just vanish. stu had simply taken her wish and made it real. that's what love was. making the bad things disappear. his heart only stopped hammering against his ribs when she let him touch her, let him cradle her face like something precious as his thumbs returned to wipe at her tears, far gentler now. "they can question you all they want, but they can't arrest you," he said, leaning close enough that she could feel his breath against her wet cheek. his mind was warped, but he wasn't completely stupid about how these things worked. "because they won't find a body." and they wouldn't. he would get rid of it. bury the suitcase deep, burn it to ash, melt it down with acid. whatever was hardest to track, he'd figure it out. he'd google it if he had to. he pressed his forehead to hers, sealing them in their own little world. "so when they come... you just lie. and i'll handle the rest."

[suckerpnch]

⛧ . closed starter : @niratias

sunlight gleamed off sweaty skin, bare chest rising and falling, adrenaline still humming through every aching muscle while one of his buddies, wearing a faded and dirt-stained referee tee, hauled his arm up into the sky. the handful of people scattered across cheap steel folding chairs gave whatever passed for applause around here. a few had crowded closer to the ring, watching the loser, right next to his beat-up vans, rolling onto his side and cursing under his breath, still sprawled across the canvas after taking a one-way trip into the boards.

otto had a nasty grid of grass burns stinging across his torso and a dull ache blooming in his shoulder from a botched landing, but none of it was anything new. just part of the weekend routine at this point. once the ref let go, his arm dropped back to his side, and he blinked through the sweat to survey the sparse audience with a lopsided and slightly exhausted smile. "c'mon, that barely counted. pretty sure nothing important's broken," he panted, wiping his mouth with the back of a scraped wrist before spreading both arms wide in invitation, knowing damn well nobody was stepping up, but throwing the bait out anyway. "who's next?"

[niratias]

From the rumbling hum of acknowledgement, Jon knows that's truth. A body made of scars knows the score well and isn't keen to play with fire when it's not necessary.

"If I had to bet, he's down from Cleveland." Mox doesn't try to fish for fragments with big, calloused, dirty fingertips. He lets the nicotine carry him away while he considers his next moves. He could text Pac, text doc, text Steve. He could take his chances at any walk-in urgent care. Clearly, this injury happened while taking out the trash. "I had the empty hope they were done fucking with us for a while."

Nobody else in the country gives a rat's ass about any of the hubs of Ohio. Naturally, this means they're consistently trying to murder each other instead.

As a rule, Riders never go anywhere alone. Mox doesn't have any of his own here right now, but he's got Isaiah, who evidently counts enough to put him at ease.

Inhale, exhale-smoke-plume.

He tongues at his chipped tooth.

"This isn't the welcome back to town I was planning on offering you. I'll have to make up for it." He fishes for his phone. VERY badly fires off a text.

The phone's screen? Cracked. The phone's screen protector? Holding down the cracked screen, yes, but also cracked in a totally different place.

Otterbox? Also cracked.

[suckerpnch]

isaiah slotted himself right alongside jon, slipping the lighter back into his pocket. standing at six-foot-three, he wasn't a man used to feeling small. he was usually the one towering over the local color. but next to jon's brick-house build, he felt almost lean. it was a rare sort of feeling. the kinda presence that made a man think maybe he ought to spend a whole lot more time lifting iron instead of drifting down empty highways.

"if they weren't before, they sure are now." nodded toward what was left of the man by the window, taking a slower drag from his cigarette than jon had. he'd never quite understood this whole outlaw club business. been a solitary creature rolling from town to town for as long as he could remember. didn't have a clue what it felt like to belong somewhere. but he could see the draw of it. having a pack meant having a shield, and he couldn't rightly blame a man for wanting a little cover in a world this mean.

"naw, brother, you're fine." his hand came up to rest against the other's shoulder for a soft squeeze, careful of the fresh injuries before letting it fall away. "watchin' a fella damn near lose his head is welcome enough in my book." blue eyes flicked down to the thing jon was calling a phone while he fumbled out a text, drawing a quiet, amused huff from isaiah. "tell me true..." a crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, "is there anythin' about you that ain't fucked up?"

[ofginjxints]

@suckerpnch ctd from (x)

Mike smirked. He supposed he was easy to recognise. His tattoos had been a part of him for so long sometimes it was easy to forget when he wasn't looking at himself. He didn't really like looking at himself. "You got me there." He nodded as he watched her pour out the pint with practiced precision.

"I'm not playing any games." His head turned to where the new performer was traipsing onto the stage, making eye contact with all the patrons including himself. He broke eye contact quickly, turning back to the bartender. Michael took a sip of his beer and hummed, grateful for the alcohol. "What kinda games do you play?" A brow arched, intrigued by the woman. He supposed it was all a game in there, and he was just one of the pieces.

[suckerpnch]

she reached for a rag, wiping at a phantom stain on the bar more out of habit than necessity as he looked away to watch the new dancer take the stage. couldn't blame him. men came to places like this for the skin, not the small talk. "same as everyone else in here," she replied, "pretend we mean a little more to each other than we actually do." it was the easiest game to play. smile, flirt, laugh at the right moments, let them believe they knew her without giving them anything real to hold onto. it kept a roof over her head, and more importantly, it kept everyone at arm's length. "mostly guessing games, though." a fleeting shadow of amusement crossed her features as she tilted her head. "i guess where you're from, you guess whether i'm lying." she rested her forearms against the counter once more, "easy enough, right?"

[xringwork]

"you can call me 'psycho' all you want. won't change anything. god forbid a man knows what he wants and has some actual standards about himself." it was fair to assume that the man was one way in front of the cameras and another way away from them....but that wasn't the case with the guys of the company. they were 100% real 100% of the time. there was a reason why adam was one of the most disliked people walking and why people were always so eager to try and hand him his ass. "did you really think i thought you had much money to work with from the first place?" he was interested to see what the other would come up with now that he had an almost unlimited budget. "you can pick the style as long as it's not completely embarrassing."

[suckerpnch]

"okay, man, i get having standards. i really do. but shouldn't you be more worried about us actually winning than what your partner for one night, who you'll probably never see again after this, is wearing?" otto asked, brow raised. he knew big league wrestling was half pageantry. everything polished, everything camera-ready. but it felt like the aesthetic was the only thing adam actually gave a shit about rather than the part where they actually beat somebody up. that was the whole reason otto was there. he let the jab about his wallet roll off his back with a shrug. the guy wasn't exactly wrong. "how about a new pair of jeans, then?" he suggested, figuring he could at least wear them to work after this was all over. "or cargo pants, or whatever. just actual pants and nothing so tight it cuts off my circulation."

[msanonny]

Charlie Hunnam as Jax Teller in Sons of Anarchy

[xringwork]

You can tell a lot about a person through their facial expressions alone, and adam had never been one to hold his tongue either with his actual words or just from the way he composed himself. "Do you want a list? If you do, you're going to have to get comfortable. We'd be here until next week." He wasn't meaning to be too judgmental (an absolute lie), but he'd built a standard for himself. He didn't give a fuck what the company wanted. He wasn't about to sacrifice the aesthetic for anyone. "You don't have to go for trunks specifically, but you are getting a fresh outfit. That's not negotiable. You can look like you crawled straight out of a dumpster on your own time, not Adam Sparks' time. Got it?"

[suckerpnch]

otto scoffed, rolling his eyes as he shifted his weight, entirely unimpressed by the lecture even if the guy's intensity was a little blinding. he knew he had the whole 'i'm perfect, you're not' persona, but he'd figured that ego stayed in the ring for the cameras, for the entrances with fireworks and all that. not that it was the man's actual personality. "dude, no offense, but you sound like a total psycho," he said, though he was pretty sure some offense was intended. shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced down at his jeans for a second before looking back up. "fine, but if we're doing this, you're the one paying for it. and i'm choosing the style." because as much as he wanted to argue, this was still the kind of opportunity people like him didn't get twice. he could swallow his pride and compromise on the outfit for one night.

[ofginjxints]

Michael often gravitated towards strip clubs late at night. It wasn't even so much for the dancers, but he liked that he could be anonymous. In a place like that nobody really wanted to know anything real. It was all fake. Fake names. Fake people. But thankfully, real booze.

"How can you tell?" Mike arched a brow, certain it was just a line, but he was happy enough to take the bait. "Just a beer. Whatever's cheapest." His gaze met the bartender's, eyes drawn to the crimson lips. For a moment he wondered what she looked like outside of work, but thoughts soon drifted when the next dancer was announced over the speaker.

[suckerpnch]

she narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, leaning across the counter to get a better look at him. gaze lingered on his features for a beat, completely unapologetic about checking him out, as if searching for something that justified her claim, "that dagger, right there." she said, tapping the skin just below her own left eye to mirror his tattoo. "plenty of guys around here have tattoos. face ink's a little harder to forget." the explanation sounded convincing enough, even if she'd mostly pulled it out of thin air. reaching beneath the bar, she grabbed a pint glass and held it beneath the tap, watching the beer climb toward the rim before cutting it off at the perfect moment. "besides," she added, sliding the glass across the counter, "you're the first person tonight who's actually asked how i knew instead of just buying into it." anna glanced toward the stage for only a second as the staticky introduction for the next girl crackled overhead and then looked back at him. "so either you really aren't from around here, or you're just better at this game than i am."

[vivianveil]

[suckerpnch]

open to: anyone. muse: anna madison / mia wakefield. twenties. exotic dancer, former cult member. plot: y/m wandered into the shitty club mia's currently working at. this could really go anywhere - open to any kind of connection and feel free to assume things!! the gif/icon is just there to show off the fc, can go iconless if preferred.

"you don't seem like you're from around here." truth be told, she didn't have the faintest idea what people from this town were supposed to look like, but she'd learned that folks from places like this usually enjoyed hearing it. it made them feel interesting. and feeling interesting meant leaving better tips. she found herself stuck behind the bar again, a fate that seemed to fall on the newer girls whenever the club got busy enough to need an extra pair of hands. not that she minded. leaning her weight against the sticky counter, hands rested flat against the laminate as she studied the dimly lit face across from her. "so," she asked, tilting her head ever so slightly as a small smile tugged at red-painted lips, "what can I get you tonight?"

[niratias]

@suckerpnch || Isaiah

Jon's cracked front tooth is aching today. He can't blame a cold drink. He can't blame getting hit in the face. He can't even blame grinding at night, because it's specifically that damn front tooth and nothing else hurts. It's persistent in the way mouth pain always is, drowning out the fact he should be feeling the abrasions on the forearm that he had to drag back out of that busted windowpane once he'd finished the job of slamming the Outlaw MC stranger straight down onto the shards there.

The flesh of the throat parts SO easily.

This was not clean by any means. He got lucky that he didn't cut himself open deeply enough to need to panic.

He doesn't know how he feels about some of that gore being his own.

"To my knowledge," he says, voice gravel as usual, while he fishes for a cigarette, which he pinches between steady fingers before using his injured arm to find his lighter, "he was here alone, at least."

[suckerpnch]

"well, even if he weren't, i ain't so sure his buddies'd be too eager to come play hero after what y'just did to him." isaiah drawled around the cigarette balanced loosely between his lips as he wound his way through the broken glass. blood never bothered him much. hadn't in a long while. but watching a man get hurled clean through a window by nothing but brute force? hell, that was a first. felt like something straight out of a movie, only a whole lot messier.

"less they're dumb as hell, anyhow." he eased the lighter from his shirt pocket after catching jon wrestling with his own, struck the wheel, and held the flame out without a word at first. once the cigarette caught, his gaze then drifted to that torn forearm, following the fresh red against skin with familiarity instead of concern. "glass don't let go easy," he said. "y'oughta have somebody clean that up before it starts rottin'."

[peachfvzz]

charlie's intention was to have a moment to herself to collect her thoughts. foolish, really. she should've known stu wouldn't want to leave her side. the more time passed, the heavier his codependency grew. and she knew all about that. was the whole reason she'd made the wish in the first place... maybe this was her karma. being punished for her own selfishness, for her insistence on fixing her damaged self by using other people. but she'd torture herself over it later. "t-the suitcase?" her grip on the garbage bag faltered for a fraction of a second, though she recovered before stu could notice. she didn't even need to use her imagination. charlie had heard plenty of stories before, had sat right besides gabriel while he laughed and rattled away about his preferred methods for dealing with hindrances. this being his end was almost poetic. "y-yeah, you're right. new plan, okay? i'll leave this right there, give you a bath, and then you can tell me everything." she dropped the bag, letting it hit the floor with a heavy thump before she quickly knotted it closed. a miracle, since her hands were still shaking, completely affected by both fear and the sick, hidden satisfaction blooming somewhere in her chest. charlie held out her hand, blue eyes turning to meet stu's, a silent request for him to intertwine his fingers with hers.

"where's the suitcase, babe?"

[suckerpnch]

stu wasn't in his right mind, but he still had enough sense to know that leaving gabriel in plain sight was an invitation for disaster. that would've been careless. people would've found him, started asking questions, and questions led to police, police led to prison, and prison meant being taken away from charlie. that couldn't happen. so he'd done what made the most sense to him at the time, packing gabriel away as neatly as he could before bringing him here. "i couldn't just leave him there," he said, attention drifting to the tremble in her hands as she knotted the garbage bag shut. a small crease settled between his brows. "hey... no, no. don't do that. don't shake, baby." his voice softened, "it's okay. i'm glad i did this." as though reassuring her would somehow steady the shaking. as though, in his mind, she was trembling because she was worried about what would happen to him, not because she was standing a few feet away from her ex's dismembered body. his expression brightened the moment she held out her hand and, without a second thought, slipped his fingers between hers, giving them a gentle squeeze before glancing toward the front door. "it's over there." he tipped his head in its direction. the suitcase sat exactly where he'd left it, scuffed and streaked with drying blood. "i made sure everything fit."

[andrevascreencaps]

[peachfvzz]

the unsettling feeling remained. charlie struggled to even look at stu, swearing the man hadn't so much as blinked since he'd walked in.what made it worse was how charlie felt he wasn't even looking at her, just staring through her at god knows what. this was her fault. she couldn't even find it in herself to delight in gabriel's fate, not when all she could focus on was the state stu was in. "i cn do that for you," she muttered, forcing her voice into a calm she did not feel. thank god she'd learned a thing or two from gabriel. getting rid of the evidence was imperative. and while she had the smarts and money to take care of it, her boyfriend was... unpredictable. to put it simply, that made things hard. "don't move." at least he seemed good at following orders; best to use it to her advantage. her cheeks actually ached with the sheer effort it took to offer him a smile before walking away. when she came back, she was still wearing her gloves, a heavy black garbage bag held open between them. "i think your clothes need to be sent to the dry cleaners. i can take care of everything. just undress, put it all in the bag, and then i'll run you a warm bath. can you do that for me, baby?"

[suckerpnch]

for the briefest of moments, stu thought he'd done something wrong, but then she smiled and the whole world tilted back into place. she was happy. of course she was. he remained frozen exactly where she'd told him, grinning back at her with that same dumb relief flooding his chest until she returned with the garbage bag held open between them. he stared at it for only a second before complying without a word. first came the shirt, the fabric feeling heavier than it should as he pulled it over his head and dropped it inside. then his jeans, kicked off one leg at a time before being rolled into a messy ball to follow. larger form was then left standing there in nothing but a pair of white briefs. "i could go with you," he offered instead. he'd been alone for so long already after dealing with gabriel that just the thought of waiting for her in the bathroom for god knows how long made something in him tighten. he craved being close to her. "you'll probably need help with the suitcase. your ex was pretty heavy."

[chains0flove]

“no,   it's   not   what   i   –   why   would   you   do   this?!   I   DIDN'T   WANT   YOU   TO   HURT   HIM,   STU!   i   never   asked   for   this!”   kylie   exploded,   pushing   his   crimson   hands   off   her.   she   hadn't   expected   the   anger   to   come   on   so   strong.   it   radiated   through   her.   all   directed   at   him.   at   herself.   and   the   fact   that   he   was   smiling   about   it,   like   murdering   her   stepbrother   was   amusing   somehow,   made   it   even   worse.   she'd   created   an   absolute   monster.   kylie   wiped   at   her   tears   with   trembling   hands   and   they   rested   on   top   of   her   head.   now   the   panic   was   setting   in.   how   the   hell   would   they   explain   this   to   the   police?   she   hated   herself   for   asking   the   next   question.   “did   anyone   see   you?”

[suckerpnch]

the force with which she shoved his hands away startled him more than anything else that night could have, eyes going wide and wounded and his heart hammered out this frantic rhythm that had nothing to do with the dead guy and everything to do with her looking at him like that. "i... he didn't even put up much of a fight, babe," he stammered, as if that made it any better. but stu hadn't given him much of a chance to fight back. he'd just waited for him in the dark for hours and hours and hours... until that door finally opened, and then it just happened. "maybe he wanted this too. maybe he knew he was better off dead after all those horrible things he did to you." he reached for her again, hesitantly this time, hands only coming to rest against the sides of her face, "i can fix this." he promised, despite having no real idea how. but burying that suitcase somewhere no one would ever find it couldn't be that hard. "no. no one saw me," he shook his head quickly, "i'll just- i don't know, get rid of him for good. then it'll be like before. just us, okay? we can pretend it never happened."