#fcrgedinsuffering

[gridlvd]

dear  diary, i  think  i'm  in  love  with  my  best  friend  .  .  . .  .  .  no,  i  know  i  do caroline  &&  stiles

psd  credit

[leadxxr]

“ So real talk, if you could play 7 minutes in heaven with any killer, but it can't be ghost face cuz I know you got a kink for him, Who would it be?"

@fcrgedinsuffering | ACCEPTING !!

" . . . Uh . . ." Dwight flushed at the insinuation, bright red giving away any attempt he could have made at denying the statement. A small glare narrowed his eyes momentarily, a cant of his head, and a decision to disregard any mention of the Ghostface. Involuntarily, he's reminded of his first and only experience playing the aforementioned 'game' back in high school . . . and needless to say, it wasn't a memory he cherished too fondly. "F- from what I hear, that's about as long as Wesker can last, so . . . if I, uh . . . if I really have to answer that question . . . "

[leadxxr]

"Dwight, as your new friend, I support you living your best hoe life."

@fcrgedinsuffering (i'm fucking rolling rn LMAO)

"My . . ." Dwight blinks, anxiety building in his chest at such a vague implication. "My best . . . what?" His cheeks adopted a rosy hue, doubt flooding the background of his mind. Guilt washes over him, a feeling of impending doom that sends his thoughts spiraling nervously in one specific place: the Ghostface. His shame condemns him to the gut wrenching worry that Stiles was more aware of the despicable actions that took place in the shadows than he was comfortable with . . .

affiliated with @nghtshroud

[gridlvd]

“   I tell gay jokes because I am a gay joke. ”

// @ Jeremy

❛   i  only  asked  if  you  wanted  snacks  .  .  .   ❜

[ripk0l]

❝ I think its time you stop running.❞

darker vibes prompt memes.

if he had to admit something at this precise moment, it was that finding himself face to face with his father was not a thing he has seen coming. especially when he was in his prime. it was not like elijah or klaus had warned him about this happening. they had escaped from their father's clutches for a reason. he knew very well that he did not want to see them destroy the people they met, and yet, how could he stop now when it was becoming intoxicating? the taste of blood from his last victim still on his tongue, he is taking a few steps back, his head shaking from right to left as he looked down, but raised his eyes shortly after, looking at him with astonishment and defiance. " are you planning on stopping me now, father? i don't think you have enough strength for that. "

[fortitudina]

fcrgedinsuffering asked: “ Sweet cheeks ” from Negan

" I am anything but sweet, Negan. "

@fcrgedinsuffering GIVE MY MUSE A NICKNAME / ACCEPTING

[bloodsalted]

" ....It's not my blood.."

@fcrgedinsuffering || inbox catch up! || my lil leggies are runnin'!

"uhhh.. do tell. who's blood is it then?" concern? worry? hell. he's even a little impressed. but mostly concerned and worried. mostly. but holy shit. how did it get all the way up there?

[leadxxr]

“ look at you tying me up, our relationship is really growing... In the wrong direction.”

@fcrgedinsuffering | ACCEPTING !!

A chuckle escaped the man's otherwise rigid features as he fastened the last of the rope. He truly did admire the younger man's sense of humor. It somewhat reminded himself of something he'd once said to the Ghostface . . . something that had led to something . . . unanticipated. Something he didn't allow himself to properly process during his time as a survivor for fear of the weight of guilt collapsing down on his shoulders in such an unbearable manner. Such a recollection sends him back in his thoughts momentarily.

Dwight blinks, admiring the sight of the bondage he never could have imagined taking any pleasure in before the Entity's intervention and manipulation of his morality. Hilt in hand, he quirks a curious brow.

"Relax," he coos, examining his blade idly before it's hidden from sight, tucked away into a handmade sheath wrapped around his thigh. "You've experienced worse, I'm sure of that." If anyone knew what it felt like to fear for your life or suffer an endless amount of pain at the hands of a merciless psychopath, it was Dwight.

The enigma of a man produces another dilapidated chair, positioning it across from where his prey sat like a Thanksgiving Ham . . . He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he speaks over clasped hands.

"Just -- easier this way . . ." he gestures to the bindings somewhat nonchalantly. Easier for him, sure, but he's sure Stiles likely wouldn't agree. His intention, however, wasn't to torture the poor kid. At least, it wasn't something he'd previously thought of. He preferred quick kills & merciful deaths, or at least that's how he viewed them. His conscience was still somewhat in tact, but like a switch, it would often find itself stalled in the heat of a trial. He had a job to do and a deal to fulfill his end of. "I . . . admit, I'm intrigued. You look death in the eye and laugh. Why do you think that is?"