Sade Olutola
PR's Tumblrdome
oozey mess
d e v o n
Love Begins
$LAYYYTER
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Kiana Khansmith
i don't do bad sauce passes
pixel skylines
No title available
Xuebing Du
Not today Justin
hello vonnie
No title available
will byers stan first human second
No title available
Cosimo Galluzzi
noise dept.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Singapore
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Poland
seen from Panama
seen from Japan
seen from Ukraine
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from Ukraine
seen from Ukraine
@thesefacesinthecrowd
mobile navigation
psychological and gothic horror rp blog for both CC and fandomless OCs
DEAD DOVE; a study in: trauma, the horrors of being a girl, growing up, lady killers
rules | muse list |
featured muses:
India Stoker (Stoker) Madison Montgomery (AHS Coven) Nele Holt (Hannibal OC)
Picking at his cuticles, he glared at Nele. Any kind of tactfulness was clearly too much to ask for.
Danila's eyebrows arched in surprise at the revelation. Still, he was about to mumble that it made no difference at all until he realized the opportunity to get the attention off of himself.
"You have?" he asked, tone measured not to come off too prying. After all, he knew all too well how uncomfortable it was when someone stuck their nose into others' personal affairs.
Nele shrugged. She'd be an open book about her ex and his arrest but she could already feel herself be a little too lazy to hide her own involvement in this. Besides, that stupid little brain worm of hers tickled whenever she thought of sharing her more violent nature with Danila. For those reasons she grit her teeth and forced herself to stay a little more focused as to not trip over her own words for now. In other words: just avoid the subject "copycat killer boyfriend" in general.
"Kinda, yeah. I used to be really active in snuff forums a while back." That was a half-truth. Seeing people die on video didn't really count but it was the forum she had met Matt in. "Found a homeless guy dead in front of a grocery store back when I had my first job in Germany."
She glanced over at Danila. Yeah, none of those were comparable to killing a person yourself, with your own hands. She knew, knew because she had experienced how different both of them had felt. Still, she couldn't tell, not while the trial was still ongoing.
"But that's not the same and you still haven't answered my question."
// just wanted to give you guys a quick update as to not leave you in the dark. Been busy with work and building a portfolio for uni later this year so that's why I've been quiet a lot lately. I'm over on my @killing-the-cat blog on mobile - so quicker to reach but still not very active - if you ever want to hit me up about anything
The first sentence was a prick through a slit in the walls Danila had built around himself. The last one was a bag of bricks swung right at his face.
Eyes wide, he stared at Nele, for once not knowing what to say. She knew more about him than he had ever been comfortable sharing with anyone close to him. His walls had crumbled to ruins, leaving him unbearably naked in front of her. Danila turned his gaze away.
Kostya and Ilya praising his skills as a soldier had made him uncomfortable even back then, and now even more so. Hadn't he mentioned wanting to become a doctor in that damn interview, too? A dream long since dead and buried.
How did it feel? It felt perverse, but also like the least his motherland could do for forcing people to fight in a war they didn't start. And yet it felt like too much attention in a country where people could already tell you had served simply because you had that certain look in your eyes.
"You don't ask things like that."
"Really?"
Oh, touchy subject. Even better! Danila rarely showed any emotion. The way that he was trying to be avoidant right now told her enough already but she still wanted to know more. People needed to be poked in sensitive places, forced out of their comfort zone every now and then. Nele was just too happy to provide such a service, albeit unasked for. Maybe in another life, a life where she had a little more ambition and self-discipline she could've become a decent therapist, psychiatrist even. Morbid curiosity or genuine goodwill, didn't matter what it was as long as it helped people process.
"Well I just did."
She figured it might need a bit more for him to open up but straight-up assertiveness, so she added: "I've seen people die, too, if it makes it a little easier to talk about it."
She circled a half-step, studying her like she used to before cheer practice — except now it felt more like assessing a weapon than a friend.At the mention of Low Shoulder, Jennifer stilled.
For a fraction of a second, something ancient and ugly flickered behind her eyes. Not gratitude. Not exactly.Approval.“Oh, I know,” she said lightly, brushing invisible lint from her sleeve. “You were very thorough. Messy, but thorough.”Her gaze lifted back to Needy’s face.
“ But you went after them for me,” she added, voice softer now. “That’s cute.”Not sweet. Cute.“You always said you weren’t the violent one.” Her eyes dropped briefly to Needy’s hands again, remembering the knife. Remembering the fire. “Guess we both changed.”
Jennifer huffed a quiet laugh. “Please. I have standards.” A tilt of her head. “And they’re easier to lure. Fragile egos, savior complexes… they practically gift-wrap themselves.”
She stepped closer, not threatening — just close enough to feel invasive.
Needy felt cought when Jennifer mentioned her motive behind killing the band.
"Don't get too fuzzy. I've killed them because they also fucked me over, you know. Losing my best friend, you killing my friends and boyfriend and all. It's their fault in the end and yes, I made them pay."
It was an accusation, maybe also a little cry for an apology. Needy couldn't admit it but she'd still forgive Jen for everything, if she just asked for it. Too great was the longing to have her best friend back, someone to be stuck in this fucked up chain of events with together.
"You don't strike me as the sort to sit around for pathetic types. Good on you. Self-respect goes a long way to actually being respected."
The doctor listens quietly as Nele shared, the faint mist of condensation masking half her face as it rose from her mug. A home situation that was somewhat suspect, but who didn't have one of those? At least she had parents who cared enough to buy food for her. For now.
"Fed enough to fuel the creativity. What's your medium? Digital? Linework?" A corner of her mouth lifts briefly, as if amused. "Oils?"
"Just anything, really. I recently started art school and we're having crash courses for all kinds of stuff. My favourite are collages, mixed media but oil is really growing on me. I like the texture of it and recreating the old masters' layering for studies."
She stopped herself for a heartbeat, surprised by how much she suddenly had to tell about herself. She rarely shared benign details about her life or hobbies with people just like that. It meant the doctor was a comfortable listener.
"Are you an artist yourself or just interested?"
Danila's life flashed before his eyes–then promptly dissolved in relief when Nele didn't mention anything about their merry little adventure in the drunk tank. How unaware she probably was of the power she had over him.
What curiosity Alexei might have had seemed to disappear at the answer; it sounded perfectly mundane, after all. "We share the same circle of friends," he shrugged, the half-truth covered with a polite smile.
Danila put a hand on Nele's shoulder as he glared at Alexei from behind her back. "It was nice seeing you, but we need to go," he said, this time in English.
Those friends didn't seem all too friendly after all judging by the way the two of them interacted but Nele couldn't condemn the guy for masking the truth behind nice words, after all that's all she ever did herself.
Nele looked at Danila over her shoulder. She could feel his urge to leave and was basically just waiting for angry stranger to give in and leave them alone for now... just so she herself could bug Danila with all kinds of questions. Their mistake to make something seem interesting enough for her to be nosy about.
"Right, Danila is supposed to be my plus-one today."
@sociopathichero liked for a starter
"I gotta admit, I was a little nosy.", Nele pouted at Danila.
"Found your interview. Didn't know you were some kind of war hero. So... how's it feel to kill people and then be awarded a medal for it?"
Silent Hill muses yes or no 😬? I'm obsessing over the games again and feel like Heather and/or Hinako would fit the theme of the blog very well. Would anyone be interested?
Warning Bells
@thesefacesinthecrowd — random starter with TRIXI
“Okay, something definitely isn't right.” Her voice hitches with the effort to remain calm. Any exuberance she usually exudes mutes under the oppressive weight of an ominous cloud roaming around her. She crosses her arms and rubs away goosebumps, mitigates slight trembles, as she suspects more than just the chill, stale air at fault.
At first impression, the motel lobby appears dingy, dull, like a pending health code violation from how unkempt it is. Layers of dust coat old, scuffed furniture that look perserved from the 1940s. Checkered wallpaper has lost most of its color while jagged rips and flaky peels sews hazardly through thin material. Beneath the eyesore, cracks splinter the plaster peeks beneath, dotted with mold. The fact the front doors are open, but the entrance is empty, no employee in sight, adds to her sense of foreboding.
“There's gotta be better options than this...” She frowns.
Feeling like she's being watched, Trixi can't decipher if her caution is paranoia from overthinking or intuition about an immiment omen. Pickings are slim late at night when far from home, but Trixi wants to turn back, search for a better alternative than this rundown deathtrap. Something about this place blares all her warning bells.
No, today was just too much. India finally needed a break, some me-time. The exhaustion had seeped into her bones after their last kill. What at first had been exciting, a nice hit, started to become overwhelming with how frequent Charlie wanted the both of them to go on a hunt nowadays. Seeing the light fade from their eyes had lost its appeal and instead left India with a sour aftertaste, no more joy, just the constant overstimulation from being on the run, looking for a new victim, watching them die for a split second, taking care of the waste, being fucked by Charlie, sleep, repeat. So... dull, such a waste indeed.
Their last hideout was an abandoned motel at the edge of the state, old Americana, moldy and forgotten. It was the perfect dirty little retreat... for Charlie, not her. India had become homesick, even missing the face of her mother sometimes. She just wanted to be back in her own bed or playing the piano while something tasty was waiting in the oven.
While watching her nightly slasher movies, India had run out for some fresh air, maybe even to lie on the pavement for a little bit. Maybe a car would pass by and hit her even, finally some sleep. It was right then when she bumped into the stranger. At first it was surprise, then disbelief, why would someone else be out here in the middle of nowhere, then the shortest second of the scary idea that one of her victims had come back to haunt her.
"Hush!" she said and wasn't quite sure if to herself or to the ghost of the new woman. "My uncle can't see you. Follow me!" She took the hand of the girl and just walked outside towards a different block of bungalows.
@facepeeled liked for a starter with Madison
Ugh, vomit. How could they have cast Calista fucking Spalding next to her, even if it was just for a small roll? Forget that she herself might look way hotter and more talented next to Spalding but that bitch might ruin the whole movie and Madison really needed some good new headlines that didn't scream about witches or her being a failed actor nowadays. A word to her agent as well as the casting director was in order.
Madison didn't even try to hide her annoyance with the arrival of the newest cast member. Furious whispers with the staff that could easily be overheard, disgusted looks during the line reading. Yeah, take that, Spalding, I'm better than you, I actually earned my place here. What do you bring to the table.
Smoke break was Madison's last retreat on this godforsaken day. If she had to see Spalding's face in her only few minutes of private time, it was ciggy to the face, baby.
"its not a tabloid, and it's not true crime shit. But it is for an article," Cam shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I'm sorry. Its not going to be like, one of those tell all's that is super disrespectful. I'm just interviewing people who were close to 'evil' people, serial killers. Friends, siblings, girlfriends, children. Focusing on the more human aspects, focusing on the way your live's have been changed. I promise, I will leave if you say no."
She huffed. Oh 'evil' people, so it's gonna be one of those stories. Sure, she could play the victim card. Would make her look better if she ever was to be convicted herself.
"Ugh, just like that? I mean you could at least buy me dinner first."
Never one to have an interaction stay unbalanced to either side, she was willing to exploit this supposed writer's supposed goodwill for a little.
starter call / jennifer & madison / @thesefacesinthecrowd
“of course you would be braindead enough to think I was actually fucking dead.”
Madison rolled her eyes but wasn't actually annoyed by the demon showing up again, a little inconvenienced maybe. No, it was funny actually but it undermined her power as a witch. Should've kept the damn succubus underground or wherever she couldn't have clawed herself back.
"Ugh, would've been too nice if you actually stayed dead but hell I know a bad bitch knows how to make a comeback."
by Ami Thompson (@AmiThompson_h on Twitter/X)
Jennifer’s smile widened, not cruel — amused. “You did,” she said lightly. “For a minute.”
She watched the relief flicker across Needy’s face before she could hide it. That tiny crack. That awful, traitorous softness.Jennifer noticed everything.“Aw,” she murmured, circling slightly, predatory but unhurried. “You’re not even sure if I’m real, are you? Shapeshifter? Demon? Some little hallucination conjured up by Catholic guilt and unresolved lesbian tension?”
She stopped in front of her.
Up close, she smelled like clean skin and iron.“I’m me,” Jennifer said, her voice dropping just enough to make it intimate. “Same girl you used to braid hair with. Same girl you stabbed.” A faint smirk tugged at her mouth. “Still killing.”Her gaze softened — or at least pretended to.“But don’t worry,” she added gently. “If I wanted you dead, Needy… you wouldn’t be standing there having a crisis about it.”
No such thing as catholic guilt or lesbian tension. Needy had stopped praying to any god ages ago. There was no such thing as god, only some fucked up irony of fate.
"Shut up, Jen... or fake Jen... whatever.", Needy rolled her eyes. The loony bin and the demon bite had definitely given her a meaner and more moody tone than back in high school. Old Needy wouldn't have dared to talk back to her bestie with anything as a simple 'shut up' even. But Jennifer and her hadn't been bffs ever since the killings. That ugly, awful thing that was part of both of them now had changed their relationship forever.
"Still only eating boys, huh? Speaking of, I made sure to get back at those creeps that killed you first. Low Shoulder won't be playing anymore of their wannabe emo trash."
@somebrokenfate liked for a starter
"So if you're not writing for a tabloid or some other true crime shit why are you bothering me?"
like for a starter with Madison Montgomery | 21+ only
