oh I'm not reading it, I'll simply notice it. I'll wince and smile, but I won't be reading. To those who do, I hope you get the proper assistance. Have fun.
READ IT, COWARD.
You opened yourself to this, now accept your punishment.
well well well~ seeing Sammy mentioned here is fun. Jed sends his regards <3
HELL YEAH BUDDY, MURDER BOYFRIEND
(Art by the question sender lol)
I’ve been talking about Jam a LOT lately okay, I just— hhhhhhh jam 😩👌
If y’all want some good fucked up shit that gives you FAR too much insight into how much weird dirty smut I’ll write, just check out Sam’s tumblr blog; it only got more extreme over time O.O Horror fandoms expand your horizons.
I will now proceed to infodump about my fave oc ship.
Anyway, tw below the cut for blood, knives, and various other squicks and potential triggers, as linked to in the old rp blog, and the MASSIVE RED FLAGS that are the whole Jam (Jed/Sam) relationship described below. (Horror fandom, yall, please consider dead by daylight is literally a game about killers.) (but yeah tw for toxic and abusive relationships)
(Mind the tags and rules; if you want smut it’s Rated M for Mori)
Dead By Daylight OC Sam Reid, 18+ RP/Ask Blog, mun and muse are 20+
(Also here’s the whole fucking outline of the 11 acts of the main tumblrverse jam relationship )
But if you want my fave acts:
Act 2 (wherein Jed gets Sam to physically harm herself so he can take care of her after, takes her home, and realizes how much fun playing mind games both ways with her is— until she dissociates and he gets a peek at something that’s broken in a different way. Then he realizes he might actually have feelings for her.) (tw toxic relationship, abuse, manipulation, threatening each other with knives, love bombing, suicidal thoughts/protagonist, both forced and voluntary self harm, disordered thinking re:self harm)
Calm her first, sooth the strain, “Shh, you’re ok. I’ll help you, let’s sit down.” Before Sam has a chance to speak, he shifts to stand in front of the chair- then he’s sitting down with her in tow.
The ginger survivor is in his lap, her back against his chest. His arms uncurl from around her so he can put her target hand in front of them, “Right through the middle, it’s gonna miss anything important. I promise, baby, I’ll make it quick, but we gotta do it together. You’re ok, Sammy, you’re gonna be so brave.” He’s constantly whispering praise into her ear, using a rarer pet-name for this one. He uses his hand to control hers, physically making her grab the knife again.
Act 3 (wherein Jed gets punished for thinking he owns the Bastard Entity’s property survivor, Sam kills someone for the first time, and they both bond over being mutilated by a god; trauma bonding) (tw more of the same plus extra victim blaming, someone purposefully triggering a suicide victim, and probably more)
Oh my god. She doesn’t say anything - still doesn’t have speech yet - but she blinks in surprise at the sight of him.
Jed isn’t the type to be messier than his work made him. Seeing him bloody out of the murder gear is… It hurts? It shouldn’t hurt. He hurts, he’s the one who’s carved countless things into her flesh. She should feel validated, or gratified, or somehow glad that he should suffer the way she has. She should feel that way.
A killer broken in his own home is not a sight Sam ever would have expected to see. Instead of feeling that spiteful satisfaction, she just feels… Pity? And some bit of hollowness, that even this place, the twisted sanctuary it’s become, the perverse protector role he’s taken up… all of that has been threatened. Nowhere is safe. But she’s too tired to leave. He has a bed and a shower and— look, he gives good hugs, alright, he just does, she’s not happy about that, but it’s true.
The end of Act 6:The Scrapbook (wherein the formerly-Bastard-possessed friend admits that Jed kept a scrapbook of Sam’s torture - a book that is currently missing - and Sam tries to stop having feelings; what’s worse is when Jed won’t even hurt her again)
It’s sick, she’s sick, they’re sick. After everything he did to her, everything she’s reminded herself of again and again, the things she’s refused to let herself forget, and he still got to her. He still tricked her. Tricked her into thinking she- she might actually…
Forced dependency. That’s all it was, Jed forced dependency and— something to do with pain and fear and hormones and psychological conditioning. Not feelings. Conditioned responses.
Act 7: The Blood Gala (in which Jed, scrapbook in hand, atones without expectation of forgiveness)
It’s now or never, and he can’t just not give it up now. In too deep, commit, commit to the one damn good thing in your life.
“It’s…” She knows what it is, she has to know what this is, “I don’t… I don’t want this anymore. I was going to burn it but, I knew giving it up was the better thing to do.” The right thing to do. At least, he hopes it is.
Stepping just slightly closer, with a tentative hand, he offers the book forward, no more secrets. Take the walk of shame, do it for her. It’s what he owes to her, to know him completely.
Act 8: Sammy Gets Kidnapped (the whole saga was a lot of fun to write, with a friend introducing their rival ghostface by having him kidnap my oc, while poor reggie had no clue who was doing it cause the muns were conspiring against them— but yes; Sammy gets kidnapped, Jed realizes he’s hopelessly attached, the new Ghost causes tremendous eye trauma and Sam moves in with her murder boyfriend to take care of her. It’s angsty. They finally realize they love each other.) (tw eye trauma, burning alive)
Everything she says sticks to him like thorns. This is his fault. Always. No matter what he did, she’d have died and he could have done nothing about it. He failed. He failed Sam. She’s got every right to be angry and more. He wants her to hit him, knowing that maybe it’ll give her some sort of… Reassurance? Catharsis. To be in control. For a moment, he considered stepping closer and telling her to just go for it. But he didn’t. He said nothing as she threw herself to the ground to beat the Fog instead. The false dirt of which they walked every single day for the past who knows how long.
Act 9: The Bastard’s Revenge (the Bastard god had some bad dreams, and he’s gonna make that our lovers’ fault; love makes a selfish duo selfless for each other) (tw all kinds of torture cause the God got angry; severe angst re:watching the man you love tortured on your behalf)
She should speak up, should say something, should stop this— But she knew herself well. She was a coward. She didn’t deserve to have anyone step in to receive pain on her behalf, but she’d still take advantage of their sacrifice. Awful. Even if her mouth opened like she might speak, might do anything brave to help him, to lessen the pain or distract the tormentor, or anything. She stayed silent. Complicit in every thorn and every cut and every blow.
It was the smart thing to do, in the long run. They’d die again and again, but staying in the god’s favor would buy her time, protection… It was the right choice, for her. If she reasoned enough, she could even convince herself it was right for Jed, in the long run. But for now her fatal flaw was glaringly evident. Selfish. Self-serving. Cowardly. Stupid. She didn’t deserve his affection or his loyalty. Didn’t deserve his sacrifice if she couldn’t even fight for him. She— she loved him, and—
The smallest whimper shivered in the air, an unintentional reaction, a helpless noise at her own utter uselessness. It hurt. It hurt to see him hurt, and it hurt knowing she would do nothing to stop it.
Act 10: The Reunion/The Lovers (after dying to the Bastard, a whole thread of hurt/comfort once they’ve realized they’re completely weak for one another) (tw fluff where no one actively says the L word out loud)
Her hands come up to cup his face, touching her forehead to his. “I’m glad you’re okay.” I love you. “And I’m glad you’re here.” I love you. “And you need to sleep.” I love you. Thumbs delicately brush his cheekbones. “…I’m going to make something for when you wake up.” I love you enough to attempt to cook for you.
She presses her lips to his forehead, then - finally - his lips. I love you, and it fucking terrifies me, but I want to do this for you.
