#vaniished

[diiitched-blog]

       dwight looking @ meg & trapper rn

[serratedjaws-blog]

     touches meg’s tiddy because of the ship art she’s reblogging

[serratedjaws-blog]

▽ @vaniished

        ❝ -------- Nobody likes a  TEASE,  ❞   the monster grumbled through his mask, almost inaudible as he elevated her from the ground with an iron grip at her thin neck. He could break it. He could snap her neck like a  TWIG,  but instead he hoists her over his shoulder and makes way towards the nearby basement with haste in each long stride. This last little vermin wasn’t going to escape. No way. Especially after all the time she’s managed to slip from his sight and grasp this entire round.         What a  PEST.

[evadiing-blog]

@vaniished

        The dark haired female was  FINALLY  running back to the campfire from the last map. She had stayed behind trying to find a box with a medkit to bring back for future incidents, but sadly there was no luck; however, she did end up finding a  tool box  -- so, it wasn’t a total waste of time.

       When she eventually stepped foot within the camp, she headed straight towards Meg with the metal tool box in hand. With neither a smirk or look of mischievousness, she strolls right on up, bends over at the waist right in front of Meg, and with the free hand she has Nea grabbed the other’s face with a little tug to press her lips against Meg’s.         It was very brief, and before walking away to take a seat, Nea winked at the read-head. Still -- not a single smirk.

                               ❛ Thanks for saving my ass, babe. ❜

[brutalstrength-blog1]

[Hit and Run]

    @vaniished

Sure, he could pick her up. But let's face it, she deserves to crawl around on her face for a bit for all the grief those legs of hers cause him. "Where oh where could your little friends be?" 

    Off stepping on his little friends, he hopes.

   Twin lashes on her back are the cause of the blood soaking into the rotting floorboards as she lies flat on her stomach and are the punishment for a long and frustrating chase. But try and try as she might, she was unable to escape the lick of his blade. He’s just so fast. Well, sort of. He’s not even running. He walks at a brisk pace, exuding the confidence in his ability to catch her. How much of a speeding freight train would he be like were he to sprint at her full tilt? She’s too scared to even think about it.

   For a moment, it’s questionable whether or not she’s living based on her lack of movement and lack of sound. But then a single sputter animates her and she squirms, head turning so that her cheek can rest in the puddle of blood slowly forming beneath her. Vision swimming, she can only just see him out of the corner of her eye. Just standing there, looming over her like a vulture over his meal. Why isn’t he picking her up? Stop playing with your food, you bastard.

   A solitary low moan of agony leaves her parted lips as she manipulates her arms in front of her. Bloody hands curling into fists, she summons what’s left of her strength to begin dragging herself across the floor on her elbows. She refuses to take this teasing. If he’s not going to pick her up and hoist her away then she’s going to attempt to crawl away and await rescue or to bleed out in peace.

   A rumbling voice follows her bloody trail to the door, but the question doesn’t register immediately because she has to decipher the words from the growl. Not an easy feat when she is also concentrating on not passing out from blood loss.

   ❝ Lll–like I’d tell.. YOU, ❞ she snaps in a strained whisper as her fingers reach desperately for the threshold that will dump her into the night air. ❝ You won’t… find them. Better that you.. stay here with me.. ❞

   … You great ugly palooka. Stay here, distracted. Then the others will have time to finish the generators and escape.

 There’s no denying she’s one of the more frustrating of his marks to run down when her feet would take flight and narrowly propel her along the Estate’s uneven path before he could knock her off it himself with enough strength surging through the swing of his machete to send her flying a few feet ahead of him in a frantic hobble that often left more than a crimson trail to track through the undergrowth. The scent of their fear is a particularly potent perfume, and if ever he lost sight of his prey through a thicker cluster of trees, he’d pause by the end of a broken trail and heave fog through his lungs with huffs so harsh, he’d usually taste the immediate area around a hasty hiding place before a muffled whimper would confirm his suspicions and warrant a blind swing that would either elicit another chase, or send a body sprawling out of the tall grass and face first onto a pale pathway littered with small piles of broken bedrock that might have made it harder to place his traps along frequent footpaths, but harder for his quarry to sprint along without risking a stumble. It’s just too satisfying to watch them screw up a simple scamper and panic to the point where they’d rather risk a minefield of his traps in the tall grass than have him gaining on their heels for him to consider unleashing the full and frightening speed of his monstrous momentum. After all, how else would he herd them into compromises they couldn’t possibly react well to than if he simply whizzed by them as Bill often did while chugging along a chainsaw chartered path? By taking his sweet time in traversing the misty terrain, the Trapper could comfortably collect his toys before a certain other troublesome target could pry them apart and cutely arrange their parts around a fallen hook.

   With how viciously he’d slashed her spine during their second encounter, he almost doesn’t expect her to stir again, but if he’d learned anything about this particular group of survivors in the seamless stretch of time he’d hunted them, it’s that they’re little different in nature than roaches. Smash them as he might, they’d always find a crack in the floor to slip through and return to risk the bottom of his shoe whenever they felt cocky enough. Her spine certainly feels as soft as a cockroach’s outer shell as he places the heel of his boot into the small of her back and presses down. How easy it would be to just snap her spine right here and now at the end of a trail composed of the bloody hand-prints she’d stamped across the shack’s floorboards while crawling around the corner of the doorway as if she really thought she could excuse herself from his unnerving presence? “Going somewhere?” With a chuckle, he’d snagged a sneaker and jerked her back across the rotting floor until all those fingerprints ahead of her had smeared into the indiscernible red streak he presses her deeper into with every curious flex of his foot. Knowing exactly how much pressure it took to snap a pallet under his boot with a single stomp, his devious nature demands to know more—preferably more about how much pressure it would take to have her begging him with haggard breaths to just hurry up and hook her already. She could piss right off though. It had taken him longer than usual, and several broken pallets to claim his prize, and there’s no way he’s going to skip out on gloating just because she’s impatient to die.

  “I won’t find them.” He agrees if only to humor her foul mood as she fumes under his foot like the steaming pile of horse shit she seems confident to spew at him when she should have been cowering. “Bet they’ll find you.” The ivory skull feels icy and smooth as he paws at it inside the front pocket of his overalls. It’s almost boring how predictable how the survivors would swarm in to save one of their own; there’s reason he couldn’t make it into an interesting affair for once. Stilling over her like an animal guarding its kill, he waits until the red stain spilling out of his mask goes dark, and the air tenses into a coiled spring of deadly silence. “Go on. Make it easier for’em.” Doubting she’s one to follow orders, he gladly proves the extra incentive and grinds his foot down harder.  “Cry.”

[botanyknowledge-a-blog]

vaniished replied to your post:

this is too cute rip my heart

Claudette is literally too sweet and ofc she knows the meaning of flowers. she probably makes flowers crowns for everybody a lot like they’re drowning in flower crowns

[botanyknowledge-a-blog]

vaniished replied to your post:I’m terrible

mom no :’(

mom got moried :’(