bloody-delicious

[bloody-delicious]

Do you do match ups?

yes, matchups are always open! but i currently have 61 requests in my inbox, so it may take a while for me to get to yours

#ask #oof i need to take a day and just knock a lot of these out

[bloody-delicious]

Thanks for linking the rules!! I tried to click on the #rules thing in your bio, but it doesnt seem to be working. I am on the app though so that could just be something on my end😂😂

no problem! yeah, i used to have a link there but it kept bugging out so i had to get rid of

[bloody-delicious]

Hello anon who requester the hannibal + degration kink one. That was AMAZING, better than I expected (and my expectations were high to start, that was wonderful, you are wonderful and 100% worth the wait. You are my absolute favorite creator.

hhHHH i dont even know where to start with this one! this is so nice of you to say, i really appreciate it! im also really glad that you liked it, i was worried about it since that was my first nsfw piece-but im happy you sent it in, it was a welcome challenge and helped me get out of my comfort zone (i struggle a lot with that haha)! hope you have a good day! ❤❤

#ask #im soft #and no anon YOURE WONDERFUL

[bloody-delicious]

Hello!! I just came across your blog and I👏🏻 love👏🏻 it👏🏻. I'd like to make a request but I scrolled through your blog for like 15 minutes and couldn't find your rules, do you have a link or something I could use? Thank you, can't wait to see what you write next💖💖

hi! thank you for your wonderful compliments, first of all! and im sorry about the mess of the rules-i originally tried to put a link in the description, but it kept breaking. if you hit the search icon, #rules should appear there, and if it doesnt, it should when you type it in. heres a link!

https://bloody-delicious.tumblr.com/post/180529063499/welcome-to-my-horror-blog-i-write-reader-inserts

#ask #literally whenever i get these nice comments my heart just. oof 💘 #wish i could fix the rules thing so itd be easier to access sorry guys #also please tell me this link is working bc it doesnt look like it is from my screen??

[bloody-delicious]

Hello! Can I ask for a matchup pls? I’m a female, a Pisces. And I love drawing/designing, traveling, and music. I have short black hair with green highlights. I tend to hide my sadness/anxious feelings, I love my family and pets, and I’m a slow-to-warm-up person. I’m also super quiet towards ppl I don’t like/know, but once you get to know me, I will give you my full trust and love. But if u betrayed me, I will pretend you don’t even exist. I also have anxiety. And I’m also kinda curvy/busty.

i match you with bubba sawyer!

•traveling is a beautiful form of escapism. it gifts to us that wonderful breath of freedom, that thrill that races through our veins and beats with our hearts, that richness of the mind that expands our understandings and broadens our horizons. god gave man legs and wheels and wings to explore and embrace the lush earth from which he was created. but there are parts of this world that reject the beauty of the life that surrounds it. there are lands that fester, that spoil, decay, and cannibalize themselves, supporating and thriving in their own wickedness. the hell that we were told of lie not beneath us, but right alongside us. the hell recounted by many is not loud, it is not bold; it sinks into the soil and grows like a deadly fungus, like an intruding weed. it is not death, no, it lives with us, it breathes and matures with us. hell is anywhere one finds it to be. for the inhabitants of La Frontera, hell is the sawyer house. inside, creeps the devil, a crooked smile with crooked teeth and crooked words, his body and his mind as sickly as his business. and the devil is followed by his two bastard sons, hounds of hell that crawl out of the purple shadows of the texan heat and slink into the coolness of the night with bloody fingers and quiet, mad eyes. the house beats with their sin and walks with their red feet and hums with the beat of the leatherface's saw. yes, hell can be found in that old farmhouse on the hill. children dont wander near, they watch from the weeds and scamper off when the sound of the butcher can be heard. no man dares pass by, they take the long way around, they steal a glance at the road to death as they pass by. no birds sing in the trees, no flowers grow. mother nature would not have her children so close to such a lifeless land. but the shepherds lambs will always stray eventually. and the house must eat.

• maybe you ran when the others were too slow. maybe you betrayed another for yourself. maybe you hid under a warm, bloody body. maybe you rose when they fell. maybe you simply found yourself in gods favor. it doesnt matter. those you loved are dead, and you are alive. those you loved are served in front of you, steaming, bubbling, tender, pink, rich. and you must eat the fruit if you wish to live. you are reborn into a godless world, and you will suffer and feel and breathe and survive as sinners do. you will feel the weight of the chains on your body, your skin will shiver and sweat in the palpable darkness and burning heat of the basement, your eyes will see shadows and glints of light and crude sketches of reality. you will hear those who were not as lucky as you. you will hear them plead for your aid, as if you were an angel, sent to relieve them of this pain. you will hear the squelch of flesh as it is hung, the screams that erupt, uncurling from their throats in a display of the horror their bodies have been subjected to. you will feel their tears drop onto your sleeping body when the night comes. you will hear their last breath. you will know that a mortal man cannot claw his way out of the depths of hell.

• persephone lived for the rest of her days in a limbo of love and despair. you saw your loved ones in dreams. you wanted to go with. you wanted to know what it felt like to be happy again. you woke every night and morning with tears so heavy they cut into the flesh. you are beloved by the devil, by the mocking mask of twisted skin, the blood on his hands when he reaches out to just touch, just touch that skin of yours, by his wide eyes peering from the shadows. perhaps love cannot grow in hell, but it can be imitated. it can soothe eternal damnnation, it can hide from sight the wounds of a trauma that can never heal. a curious game you play with him, a tragic play you take part in. to pass the endless time. to distract the mind. to bring hope to the soul. does it matter? he sits beside you in the lowest circle of hell, and it is nice to have company when your very being is ripped so violently apart into nothingness. both of your hands are rough and bloody and bruised. they sometimes hold onto eachother when the night is long, when the flames burn higher, when the pain cuts deeper. he shows to you his life. you have nothing left to show. he brings you gifts of severed flesh and rotting animals. he doesnt know how to comfort you. he instead sits with you in silence. he doesnt know if it is enough. it is all he can do. the dead cannot give to the living anything of beauty, for it can only be found in the old world. but for the two of you, the old world no longer exists, neither of you can reach it with your hands, painted red, stretching towards the sky so desperately. both of you have stopped trying. you cling to what little life is left in each other, you feed on eachothers flesh to stay alive one more day, you scream inside your heads and no longer bother to wipe away the tears that fall down your faces. it is a cruel existence, but it is not without hope. it is not without that urge within you to live, to survive, to rise from the ash. you cannot converse fluently with him, but there is no need. you are now the same disease, the same creatures that rose from satans seed.

• things can get better if you wish. if you learn to love him, he will stay until you both return to the same sadistic earth you came from. both of your lives will never be without pain, but they have a chance to also be with warmth. maybe there is a future to be born in the dimness of that basement. maybe it will seep through the cracks in the walls and throb and beat throughout the house to the rhythm of a decaying heart. maybe it will one day wake in the light of day and feel the sweltering heat and hear the soft breaths beside you and once again reach for that hand that you held onto in the darkness and blood. maybe heaven will cast its light down to the pits of hell one day, even if for just a mere moment. the devils will continue to dance and slaughter and feast, but there is a happiness to be found in this depravity. you may be loved by a man who knows not of warmth and kindness, but of blood and cold, cold metal, but his heart still beats for you. many lives have been lost at his hands, his skin is forever dyed red. but they are gentle with your skin, with your hand when he grasps it, with your hair as you feel yourself being lulled softly into the hazey lavender summer night.

#slasher x reader #bubba sawyer #have to add gif later #no internet here #we got it lads #also this sucks lol #i was trying to make it realistic but it just turned into rambling

[bloody-delicious]

So if tumblr dose actully shut down at the end of the year do you have plans to write anywere else? Who knows if that's actully going to happen but still, never know what to expect at this point. I love your writing an would be sad to lose it. 💝

first of all, thank you! thats so nice of you to say, and so good to hear! 💗 i never heard about tumblr shutting down, i only heard about the purge that happened earlier, so this is news to me-unfortunately i dont think i would be moving anywhere else just because im so used to the way tumblr works. its really a good fit for me because of how it was designed, and i dont know of any other alternatives. i might go to wattpad or ao3, but i havent been on there in years, and if i moved there i dont think you guys would be able to send me anons for requests (which is also why i like tumblr. allowing people to use anon lets them request whatever they like without being scared of embarrassment). so i guess we'll see when the time comes, hopefully i'll be able to stay here!

#ask #again you guys are so kind im #every mssg has a compliment in it and my heart cant take it #💕💕💕

[bloody-delicious]

Hi, I was wondering if I could have a match up if you are still doing them? I have long brown hair, green eyes, an average body type not to chubby not to skinny. I like peace and quite but can get a little loud when I’m with friends or people I trust. I am compassionate and always try to see from other people’s point of view. I also am EXTREMELY anxious, hate loud noises and extroverts. I adore animals and nature and love for things to be organised and tidy. I absolutely loathe mess. Thanks :)

I match you with: norman bates!

• norman has always been a timid boy. a mommas boy, always in the shadows of the old Victorian house, creaking the stairs as he brought soup to his mother upstairs, sitting at the dining table alone in dim light, gazing out at the darkness, penetrated by the fast moving headlights of cars speeding down the highway like shooting stars in the night sky, the heavy rain tapping so eagerly on the window. norman was raised to listen, to appreciate how his mother knew best, to keep to himself as he always had. he knew of life outside of their little world, but he grew to fear it. this was home, why would he want to leave? he loved it here. the outside was cold and ruthless and it would eat him up and shove him down six feet deep. and life at the bates residence went on, until that day that it all fell apart. when his mother didn't wake up, he thought she was still sleeping. she was sick. she's still sick, he would think, as he moved her to the basement and laid her to rest. this will be nice for her, some peace and quiet. and peace and quiet they both received, for many pleasant days and nights. that is, until you so abruptly came into his life. into their life.

• the day that you arrived at the bates motel was a downcast, gloomy sunday. gray clouds rolled across the abyssal sky, soft rain pattering on the roof of the old building. he remembers your headlights flashing through the window into the darkness of the lobby, casting light over his shadowed figure. your quiet disposition almost seemed to him as a mirror of his own demeanor. green eyes looking up at him, the shuffle of scheduling papers and the scritch of a ball point pen, shadows casted over an unfamiliar face that simultaneously appeared all too intimate. small talk that echoed through the empty halls of the motel as he showed you to your room, two shadows lurking amongst the darkness while the tears of the heavens fell down the windows and the angels released sorrowful cries, falling from their eden in a violent burst of light that pierced the night sky. he saw your clammy palms when the world above rained its pains down to the souls that lived below. he saw the jump, the twitch, with each of the sky's screams. he remembered when used to lie awake at night as a child, listening to the wind howl and cry, the rain weep with all the sadness in the world. he stole a last look at you as your form retreated into the darkness of your room, appearing to blend seamlessly with the black. green eyes locked with his as you turned to shut the door; two shadows gazing at each other in the world to which they both belonged.

• norman will never be the one to make the first move. he is afraid of his attraction to women, and has adopted his mothers own persona to "cope" with these feelings of love; after all, he believed the only girl a boy should love is his own mother. due to this, he is painfully polite, respectful, and reserved around any women he encounters. should he adopt any affections for a woman, such as you, he will not address this inner conflict, rather, his mother will be sure to protect him from these temptations and promptly dispose of the devil insuing them. be on your guard, because while norman himself is truly a sweet boy, his mother, or at least the mother he has conjured, is a greedy god. be true with your feelings, but allow no opportunity for sabotage. the norman you see may be flustered by the attention given to him, but the mother you dont will surely react to your actions. still, do pay some mind to mrs bates. when she enters your room in the dead of night, a thirsty grin upon her lips reflecting in the glint of the knife, welcome this lamb into the lions den. you will be scared, terrified, at what you see, but you must refuse those fear gnawing at your bones, you must stand firmly and defeat the one you love. because you can and will do it, and it is the only way you can hope to free norman from himself.

•daily life with the boy from the bates motel is mostly uneventful. seeing as you both have your fair share of anxieties, the two of you confide in each other and remain in the safety of those cream walls so far away from the hell that rages just outside the door. norman has nightmares and panic attacks, horrid episodes of particularly bad anxiety and depressions that often cause him to weep silently, laying on his mothers bed in that old victorian house. norman does not want help from the outside world. all you can do for him is stay. you understand him, you comfort him as his mother once had, you love him in a way he now understands that a woman can. stay. when he wakes from his night terrors, hold him tightly as he grips your arms with white knuckles, sobbing violently into your chest. when he shakes uncontrollably, when his head is so filled with everything that he cannot even walk, he cannot even speak coherently, stay with him. stay with him as he will with you. neither of you are well equipped to care for each others illnesses, but the love is there, that tender, soft, all consuming love in a world so cold and hard. both of you will have your moments that even love cannot conquer, however, but you will find your way back. you always do. and norman would not have it any other way. he savors the time you spend together, almost wishing the two of you could stay in that motel forever, just being in each others presence. he does not wish for company, he does not wish for children. you see, in this relationship, norman depends on you in a sense similar to that of a mother and son. he has not recovered from his loss, and most likely never will. he needs you and you alone. he is in no state to care for a child when he is unable to even care for himself. he cannot take on that burden, and you most certainly will not be able to raise a child on your own. your relationship may seem odd in this sense to others, but it hardly matters. love has begun to grow and blossom in the cracks and crevices of the old bates motel, and it is beautiful.

#slasher x reader #norman bates #psycho

[bloody-delicious]

The Void (2016) - Dir. Jeremy Gillespie, Steven Kostanski “We’re in hell!.”

[bloody-delicious]

❣we've reached 800 followers on this blog❣thank you guys so much for staying with me and putting up with my disappearances lol, i really appreciate having you here. hoping to get more requests finished tomorrow, and get a good chunk done over the weekend. thanks guys!!🎉🎉

#idk how to tag this except thank you?? #never thought i would have this many lol #hope i can do u guys justice #again thank yall so much!!💕💕

[bloody-delicious]

May I have a matchup please? I’m 5’7 with long light brown hair and light blue-green eyes. I’m a little chubby. I can be goofy but it’s mainly bI cause I like making people laugh. Im very optimistic and love doing things for others. I love nature and hiking, my hobbies include playing guitar, singing, baking and cooking. I have a terrible tendency of being gullible but it is only because I always try to think the best of people.

I match you with: Billy loomis!

•the boy next door, the sweet bad boy, the high school heartthrob, the caring boyfriend, Billy Loomis. of all the masks Billy wears, these are the most convincing. the truth of his identity, of who he really is not just as a killer, but also as a person, is hidden behind a plastic face and the red knife that so violently tore into the flesh of his victims. the serial killer that murdered these teenagers was complicated, clever, and so captivatingly mysterious. the boy underneath the costume, however, is not. a horror addict growing up watching Michael standing over his sister's dead body and Pamela voorhees avenge her son, pushed by trauma and tragedy and wounds that just wouldnt fucking heal, fell into delusion. he created a character of himself, made reality a story, convinced himself of what he wanted life to be. the boy hearing his mother and father fight in the kitchen long into the night, futile attempts at sleep as he lay awake and stared at the ceiling above listening to the hatred in their words, with no pillow thick enough to drown their voices out and no sleeping pill powerful enough to quiet his mind, he retreated into the worlds that he knew and loved and suddenly realized he had an opportunity. the seed of disease grew in his brain day after day, fight after fight, and ultimately consumed him the day he looked down into the earth and saw the black coffin being lowered down, down, down, white Rose's in a wreath laying neatly on top fading into the darkness. he had an opportunity. he wanted so badly to become the feared, cold hearted killers on the screen that he eventually convinced himself that he was one. the vulnerability, the emotions, everything that had made him Billy, was crushed by this mask he mutilated his face into, but he did not know that it still lay there, behind all that he had fabricated, it lay in the darkness and rotted. a teenager buys a costume and becomes a God, he manipulates someone he might have once called a friend into helping him(after all, he doesnt want to pay for his crimes, and someone will have to take the blame), kisses a girl and says I love you and fantasizes of spilling her guts in his sleep because someone has to pay for what has happened to him, and the next of kin is her. things could have been different. had he had someone who would have fought and fought until they broke him back into that little boy sitting in the theater at the nightmare on elm street midnight showing, maybe he could have changed. but life doesnt give second chances.

• should you try to befriend Billy, he would most likely accept and return the kindness. of course, he would only see this as a way to build up his reputation as a nice guy, someone who got along with everyone, someone who wouldnt hurt a fly. trying to get closer to him would be a risky endeavor, as he may allow it for the sake of the matter stated previously, however, he may become irritated and leave your body at the front door for mom and dad to find when they get home. he thinks selfishly, and makes every decision with his plans to murder sidney in mind, considering how it could affect his role as a suspect, how it might look suspicious if he did this or that. unfortunately, he would definitely take advantage of you due to your tendency to trust others, having the view that most people are good and just. treat him with the kindness in your heart, show your altruistic nature, and he may reconsider. as embarrassing as it is to spare the goody two shoes who always ends up getting a torturous ending, Billy will perhaps convince himself that the kill simply isn't worth the risk. continue being yourself, continue showing the goodness inside of you, and you may make the plastic start to crack, if only but a little. show Billy no mercy, surround him with the reality that there are good people, there is good in the world, force him to face the fact that the characters on the screen will not accept him as a killer because they are not real and this is not a movie. you will have to work hard, discreetly intervening when he plans a murder, silently teaching him to find the little boy that he left behind all those years ago.

• if you actually manage to get through to Billy, to the real Billy, he will break. destroying all that he has spent his teen years working towards, destroying the character he so determinedly tried to mold himself into, will add another wound that will never heal. if he had continued, however, eventually there would be no flesh, nothing human left to scar. becoming who he truly is will be a slow, painful, angry process, and he will find himself leaning on you like a crutch, like you are the only thing holding him up. with your personality, though, and the things you show him, he will be able to stand again, and instead of relying on you, he will chose to have you in his life, standing beside him. Billy has not known love, he has known how to manipulate it into something dark and wicked and vile. love is caring for someone, and that means doing whatever it takes to help them, even if it means you have to put them in pain. Billy may understand one day.

• you will find that Billy loves your hobbies, he loves your personality. when we experience the darkness ourselves, we can truly appreciate those who fought their way into the light. he almost looks to you as a motherly figure, from the way you care for him and from your love of baking and cooking. he'll tease you about it if only to hide the fact that he loves it. after having lost a mother, he has found through your loving nature that he brought with him a certain emptiness from being denied the pure love that a mother gives a child. having not been given such love before, Billy will be very thankful that you offer it to him, though, again, he will never admit it in order to keep his pride.

#slasher x reader #ghostface #billy loomis #i am so sorry you have to read this its such garbage #forgive me anon

[bloody-delicious]

just as a sort of update-54 requests are pending, so if it takes a little while, I'm sorry for the wait! also to some of the requesters, I'm sorry if I was too late and you left tumblr or something before I could finish!

#dont know how to tag this #apology #maybe lol #god theres these anons who requested an alphabet and a collector fic and im excited but also nervous #i dont want to let yall down especially since i love your ideas #@ collector anon if youre reading this i love your request

[bloody-delicious]

Can I get a matchup please?? I'm a 5'6" trans man with brown hair and blue eyes. I'm shy at first but eventually get super attached to people. I love horror movies and any type of physical affection. I love animals, especially cats. I often use humor to cope with my emotions and have a hard time letting people help me when I'm vulnerable.

I match you with: baby!

• baby can seem intimidating at first glance, and this impression is only further backed by her unpredictable personality and manic behavior, which often presents itself in the form of senseless violence. her character may have developed this way through how she was raised, and by her own family's reckless tendencies. surrounded by gore, drugs, and sex for the majority of her life, baby has grown to be a daredevil and adrenaline junkie. needless to say, you will never find yourself bored with her close by. although she mainly craves chaos and destruction in all possible forms, she finds pleasure in exploiting the innocent and helpless, whether this is through violence, sex, drinking, drugs, partying, etc. being the shy, quiet individual, you will find yourself in a world not many dare to enter in their lives, should you cross paths with baby. her approach to acquainting herself if someone happens to catch her eye is not unlike a feral animal attacking a small woodland creature-she walks with the gait of a predator whose mind and morals have long since expired, a wolfish grin spread across her lips that seems to want to just eat you up, sweetheart, her mannerisms rigid and wild, hands surprisingly strong in their grip and eyes unknowably hypnotic with the corruption and madness contained within them. her tongue is sharp as the knife shell use to pretty you up, and as alluring as the hunters snare. you cannot play with fire and not get burned.

• in the blistering heat of the south, under the bleeding sun walks a woman with the heart of the devil and the flesh of an angel, red gooey hands swinging, dripping at her sides, her soul hungry for more, always more. her lips reveal an insanity on a sugar high, words and phrases mashed together in quick speed and a wicked tone brought up from the depths of her dark soul. baby lives a life of hedonism and hellish delights, and while she enjoys having her fun, she doesnt mind having others tag along, especially if she takes a liking to them. however, it is more likely that one would become a victim rather than a friend if they became the unfortunate target of her attention. still, your demeanor fascinates her, your face when she first knew she had to add you to her collection, your beautiful tears when she woke you in her room as she strapped you to a chair. your suffering is unimaginable beauty to her, though she would not go as far as to inflict any permanent damage. it is hard for her to restrain herself when your choked sobs and cries of pain are the melodies sung by the very angels above, but she manages. she would also be sure to keep the rest of the firefly family at bay, claiming you as her personal victim, as she retrieved you herself. in the time that follows, it is reasonable to imagine she would include you in the "shows" she often performs, always with teasing touches and the occasional rough grasp, feeling your soft skin under her hands. due to her frequent mood swings, you may find her petting your hair in her room as she sits beside you facing the window, watching the sun dip below the horizon, turning the evening sky into a lovely earthy blue and deep lavender as the world falls asleep, the summer air of the night filling your lungs, baby whispering sweet nothings, calling you her pet, her pretty, pretty pet. on the other side, you may find her lashing out in frustration, you, bound to her chair and unable to flee from her fury, those violent hands of hers punching holes in the walls and scratching at them in pure anger until her fingertips bleed raw, incoherent screeches of rage filling the room as she attacks all that is around her, smashing glass and throwing furniture, every so often pausing to make her way to you, forcing her face just inches from yours, white knuckles gripping the arms of the chair, her hot breath on your flesh, wild eyes barely able to stay still in contact with yours, those oh so violent hands picking up glass from the floor and dragging across your cheek and watching intently with what can only be described as pleasure as the red paints your skin.

• it is clear that baby herself enjoys a good laugh, though her sense of humor can be regarded as disturbing and odd. though she always seems to be in an excessively happy state due to her mental issues, she still appreciates someone who can make her laugh. if you tell her a joke, she'll laugh, even if she'd heard it a thousand times, even if what you said wasnt even meant to be a joke at all. if you do manage to open up to her and continue to entertain her humor, she'll grow quite attached. while she does have her bad days, she'll mainly prefer to spend time laughing with you instead of going out and finding other victims to slaughter. of course, she'll never cease her killing rampage, but her body count will begin to lessen as she finds that she would rather be with you. death, gore, and pain are still her passions, but she'll try to shield you from some of her and her family's behavior if she notices that it bothers you-without being too obvious, she also dislikes being emotional and serious. she would far rather stay on her happy high and believe that nothing matters at all. it is unlikely she will ever truly open up completely to anyone, but she will attempt to do little things here and there that she thinks will make you happy. if confronted, she'll dismiss it with a laugh and increase her agression and wild behavior for a period so as to not arouse suspicion from your or her family.

• baby is all too familiar with the world of sex. she often uses her body to lure in potential victims, and sometimes even continues to have "fun" with them before the kidnapping/killing. she loves anything that makes her feel good, anything that gives her pleasure and gives it to her fast-thus, her habits of drinking, doing drugs, killing, and having a lot of sex. she doesnt care for anyone elses well being until she begins to grow feelings for you. she would most likely attempt to seduce you as soon as she kidnaps you, but will not continue if you dont appear to want it as much as she does. baby prefers a situation wherein she and her victim are both enjoying themselves and therefore focused on the task at hand rather than focusing only on how to get away and make her stop. if you and her actually manage to form a trusting, undoubtedly faithful relationship, one in which you would not run away as soon as she turned her back, baby would eventually free you of your chair and integrate you into the family. you can expect her to attempt to seduce you again, but if you deny her, she will question your feelings for her-baby is not familiar with cuddling or anything of that sort. to her, love is expressed through sex, and you being uninterested signals to her that you do not love her. she will need to be taught that affection comes in many forms, and does not exist solely in pleasure. it will be a hard concept for her to grasp, however, after a while, you may wake to her shifting closer to you in the bed, her hands gentle, warmer, as she wraps them around you in an embrace.

#slasher x reader #baby firefly #house of 1000 corpses #the devils rejects

[bloody-delicious]

Match up please if it's still open? I'm a tall, chubby bi female with curly brown hair and black eyes. I love working with computers and writing stories and poetry. I tend to hide how I feel behind humor. I may seem cold and quiet but once someone knows me, I am a chill person. I also tend to give my significant others too much space out of fear that I'll seem annoying. Thanks! 😀😁😎

I match you with: candyman!

•the infamous candyman is first drawn to you through your wildly differing passions. the contrast between your love of technology and your affection for poetry, a difference that reminisces of time itself, reminds him of his own life-long long he has lived, what world he has come from, what world he finds himself in now. the cold, unfeeling machine that births code and data and knowledge and the future, the vitality and serenity of ink on papers, an author's soul purposed on these words that will remain long after he has expired, the unimaginable emotion that this writing can convey throughout its years. he sees you as a woman of the present, a citizen like any other in this day and age, pressing buttons and taking pictures, hands and feet weary from the moment they come to rise to the moment they fall to rest. but he cannot deny that you hold that which reminds him of his youth. the young ladies practicing their arts in the garden by the school, a baby blue sky with the white heavens above, light and beautiful with no sun in sight to wrinkle their eyes or redden their cheeks. they sit in a eden of green, some laying on their stomachs and picking flowers, their studies tossed to the side, others sitting gracefully with their heads bowed in concentration, and others still in a sort of careless limbo between the two, one moment consumed in thought, the other engaged in a thrilling chase, laughing breathlessly for her to return the hair piece, the cheeky thief jumping to and fro through the courtyard in a manner akin to that of a baby deer, discovering the joys of the nature around him. and there, a girl sits above the others, with her hair done up in an attempt to tame her curls, which pay no mind and flow down from her head like a crown, like vines and flowers and earth, gently laying on her shoulders, pulled behind her ear, cascading over her in a way that makes her appesr as if she were mother nature herself. in the light, chestnut hair frames her face, her skin highlighted by fragments of what looks like the sun and the heavens themselves. she is an untouchable dream in a sea of distant faded memories that cloud his mind and fill his head with fantasies of a long gone world. and she is you.

•candyman has seen his share of life and its vices and virtues. he has seen people, he has grown amongst them and died amongst them and festered with them like an undying disease. he knows them. despite the great changes time imposes on culture and land, he has found that humans ultimately retain those sins with which they are born, from which a character develops, into which a being forms and ages and falls back to the earth. through pain, through suffering, these creatures reveal their basic natures. perhaps they vary in some aspects, but they are mostly the same across all periods. he knows this, he sees it, and yet he cannot tear himself away from his affections for you. such a solitary man, a creation birthed from a darkness so deep that it hums an intoxicating tune of sweetness and sorrow. such a dark soul, a fading memory, all that remains of a mortal boy once known as Daniel.

•the candyman has grown a cynic through his experiences in life, death, and legend. a man of education and artistry, he holds his own philosophies and character, because, in his mind, he lives as the young boy who lived amongst wealth and beauty and life. but Daniel is no longer here, he is earth, his flesh eaten by maggots and flies, his palor skin peeled and decayed, his bones reduced to their marrows, becoming one with the world that created him, the world that will welcome him back to eternal rest. his soul ascended to the stars, his conscious mind floating amongst all the beauty and wonder to be found in the universe, in the heavens above. no, Daniel is gone, he has died and he will not return. but the candyman is here. a caricature of the tragedy that happened so long ago, a story crafted through fear and anger and thirst for revenge. the candyman is a thought. he knows this to be true, and he knows this to be his fate until this thought silently slips from the city, until the children on the sidewalk tell stories not of the candyman, but of the ghost in the school bathroom, until time finally conquers fear. how pitiful his existence, lurking in mirrors and brick and blood and darkness, tied to a body that does not feel, that is not, a body that is a thought. Daniel's dying body, renewed, imagined, and created into an illusion that is so painfully real. the hum of the insects within cold, decayed flesh, flying in and out of his bloodied ribs as they please, parasites that feed on an envision of Daniel, they stay with candyman in this longest night. they too, feast on the fiction that provides everlasting life. the hook on his hand, a stylistic mockery to mimic a bloodthirsty villain hiding in the shadows of the street corner late in the evening, springing upon an innocent woman, sinking his weapon into her heart and baring a wicked expression as she falls to the cobblestone, a pool red as the Rose's on her dress that flowers around her body like a womb, death embracing her and putting her soul to sleep as it was in the very beginning. but that is him, is it not? a character that only imitates the boy who lived with blood in his veins and air in his lungs. a story to entertain, to frighten the helpless. a lie. but tell me, how is he any different than the living?

•you understand, he cannot refrain from his purpose. the candyman has killed, and will continue to until he emerges with the nothingness of existence. he was not meant to love. he does not know how. he knows of the woman that Daniel had fallen for, his love for her carrying the ultimate price. yet he is not a heart beating for his beloved. he is paper thin, transparent, the cold wind that bites at your skin, asking for a taste of your beautiful red blood, the smoke that chokes your lungs and tears your eyes, whispering sweet nothings and violent desires into your skin, the consuming darkness of your room that tells stories of a being beyond that which you know, of a man that waits for you to call him, of the one who knows that you will. his violence, his fear, his all encompassing presence, it beckons to his obsessions like a song bird to the innocent child. his love is soulless, it slaughters those you hold dear in its selfish desire for life, it leads you to death so he can have you, at last. he will have you as his victim, his lover, even if it means dragging you to hell with him.

#slasher x reader #candyman #daniel robitaille #sorry this is bad but i tried lol #also this took forever im so sorry

[bloody-delicious]

just wanted to say you write Patrick Bateman so well like got damn your writing in general is just so fantastic take your time angel!!!

aaaa thank you so much!! I cant believe how nice you guys are, all of your messages are so kind! have a good day!

#ask #i could go on and on but i dont want to ramble lol

[bloody-delicious]

dont wanna just drop one if they're not but are matchups still open? and if not will they and possibly when?

hello! matchups are always open, but, as u can probably see lol, I've been gone a while so requests might take a while. hoping to catch up soon!

#ask

[bloody-delicious]

hey guys, I know I've been gone for a LONG time-i dont have an excuse for getting this far behind other than being busy with classes. I'm hoping to slowly get back into it, if anyone still stuck around lol. again, sorry for this long unexpected hiatus, I'll try to make it up to you guys.

#oof oh my god #this is embarrassing lmao #i cant believe most of you are still here even after i pretty much died

[bloody-delicious]

Take your time!!!! and remember to take breaks when you need them! You're doing great!

this is so sweet??? thank you so much, this is such a kind message, i literally cant stop smiling its so nice!!😭💕💕

#AHHHH #u guys are so nice im cryin #literally ive gotten so many kind words from u guys i dont know how to thank u #like yall are strangers u have no obligation whatsoever but u still take the time to do it #MY HEART