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phonkscribes · 1 year

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Dead Last.

You live by a code most would abandon in these circumstances, where death isn’t an escape and a nameless goddess hungers. It’s a rare trait to find amongst people, especially those that have died time and time again. When the gates are powered and you’re abandoned by your peers, you don’t think that anyone would notice. Let alone the people that put you in that spot.

Assorted killers reacting to an abandoned reader.

Legion / Frank Morrison

Legion is as thick as nails, nothing can get between them, even if things got rough. That much was true on that night in the store when they took turns killing that janitor. He’s disappointed to see that your ‘team’ won’t extend a hand to save one of their own like how the Legion would to him. Ace runs out the door, not even looking back as you lay on the cold floor of Ormond.

“I bet that hurts real bad”, he teases, putting a foot on your back to keep you from struggling.

He wants to hear what you’ll say in response, to see how you’ll beg or plead for your life. You’re whimpering, crying— he can see the steam rise from your cheeks. The pain he’s talking about isn’t physical, but you’re trying your best to hold it in. In some ways, he could feel for you, in others he could not. That’s just how things are around here. You stick your neck out for someone and then it gets you killed.

“That’s what happens when you try and play hero, dumbass”, he grabs you, hoisting you up and over his shoulder.

He has a quota to meet, a number to fill so that bitch in the sky doesn’t give him or any of his friends shit later. He doesn’t feel bad for putting you on the hook, watching as the claws sink into your sides as you die. Although he does feel… something. The next trial that you see him he doesn’t bother you so much, choosing to hit you while he’s in his frenzy before leaving to find the bigger fish. If Ace happens to be with you, he’s sure to tunnel him out.

It’s his way of being nice, hoping you don’t catch on when he does this one thing.

The Ghostface / Danny Johnson

You’d been running with Yun-Jin towards the gates as the timer ticked down. She’d been right at your side until she hadn’t. As you went to look over your shoulder he was right there. The ribbons on his hood billowed as he cut through the night, breaking his shroud as he tore into your side. You’d been exposed and you didn’t even notice, nor did the producer bother to tell you. As Danny wipes his blade he looks down at you pitifully, tutting I’m disappointment as your fellow survivor left you for dead.

“You should’ve seen your face”, he taunts, chuckling as you try and recover, “But that was fun”

You sit there, gasping for air as he squats down to pat your shoulder, which has a hook shaped hole through it. You cry out from the pain, but he coos, as if there was an adorable puppy before him and not your sweaty, bleeding body.

“Isn’t that tough?”, he picks you up and starts walking.

You’re sure you’re dead, not bothering to struggle as you sniffle. It tugs at his heartstrings, it really does. You’re lucky he thinks you’re so cute! Otherwise, he’d have killed you a lot sooner, which he probably should’ve done to that bitch Yun-Jin! He walks along, straining his ears as you try and not to cry at your defeat. The hatch is near as the two of you pick up on the sound of the angelic singing. The Ghostface sets you down just in front of it.

“Since I’m feeling generous… just this once, I’ll let you go”, hope starts to seep through that look of despair etched onto your features. It stirs something within him.

You start to crawl, pulling yourself forward as he thinks about shutting it in your face. How would you look if he stole away your only means of escape? Danny wants to see what that’d look like, the terror reinstalled in your eyes as you inch closer and closer.

“Th- Thank you..”, you tell him, looking up into the eyes of the mask.

Ah… next time. Definitely next time.

Hillbilly / Max Thompson Jr.

He’d caught you by the shack, using his saw to cut through your middle as Dwight had made the mistake of throwing the pallet down to block your path. It was a mistake, he’d heard the saw and reacted when he saw the red stain. The look of regret is as plain as day as he runs, pain struck across his face as he leaves you behind. Max didn’t think much of survivors, but he could understand better than anyone what it felt like to be caught and punished rather than betrayed. He watched Fairfield leave as your blood spilled all across the wooden floorboards. The sounds of your panicked, frustrated breaths mixing with his labored growls filled the air.

So that’s it eh?

He looks down at you, waiting to see how you might react, if you’d yell or cry out. With the leader gone, it was just you left. If he put you on the hook, you’d die, as simple as that. He moves, stepping over your body to break the pallet. The wood splinters as it falls, collecting besides you as he goes to pick you up. It’s not uncommon, he’s seen it happen before a thousand times but it’s always so… he doesn’t know the words to place it. You didn’t deserve that, he reasons. Max carries you off to the gate where he saw the scratch marks fade off to.

He’s says something, tries to at least, but is unable to. It comes out as a small grunt, as he picks you up. You wonder why he’s being so nice. Usually he’s so intent on getting people off the farm and into the next match. You pat his back, a quiet thank you as he gently drops you off on the floor. He doesn’t say anything, just watches, revving up his chainsaw to carry him off to go close the hatch if he can find it.

He thinks you’re cool, like a hero from one of his shows. You’re too kind to kill, too brave, too good. He’d have felt better about doing it if you were a scum bag.

Pig / Amanda Young

You tried your best to keep everyone alive, but no amount of heals or pallets can prevent the inevitable. It’s not that they didn’t try. All of you try, fighting to stay alive in the face of cruelty, but alas. The reverse bear traps didn’t find them to be agreeable. Either your friends fell victim to the saw trap or to the blade of Miss Amanda Young. You’re the only one who managed to get the trap off in time, so by Amanda’a standards, you’ve earned your life. That didn’t stop you from trying to save your friends from their graves.

At the end, she meets you in her workshop, eyeing you curiously. There was no favoritism, no second chances aside from the one you got. They all had every opportunity to survive and failed. Watching you now, she feels a shred of sympathy. A few years ago, she was the same just like you, eyes wide and afraid of dying. You’ve earned your life, proven by the lack of a trap on your head. She beckons you to follow her, as she already knows a way out.

“Don’t think too hard about it”, she says, noting your apprehension to follow her like a good survivor.

She’s indifferent for the most part, with the slightest hint of being proud of you. You may not be disciple worthy, but you held quite a bit of promise in her eyes. Should you ever turn to the dark side, she’d love to mentor you. You jump through the hatch as she waves goodbye, silent as she studies the expression on your face as you depart.

Shape / Michael Myers

You were the obsession this trial, and as much as he would’ve loved to kill you just then and there, he knew it’d serve him better to let you go. There were so many times where he could’ve just offed you had he felt like it. Though evil personified had other plans, such as dealing with the gnats flying around you. They really were just flies, swarming you when they needed help, when their wounds couldn’t be staunched caused by his knife. Picking them off one by one wasn’t hard, with how quickly he was able to catch up to them as they worked hard to complete their tasks. He reveled in the way that you watched their bodies hit the floor. You were next.

You were next and there was nothing you could do to stop it. As the last survivor, he was more than eager to track you down, playing the same game he played with his little sister. He stalked you through the halls of his childhood home, you sprinted up the stairs and towards the window, but he was faster. The shape was content with the way your throat fit in his hand when he held you up and pinned you to the wall. You slammed back quite nicely, your grunt of pain being drowned out by a scream.

The wet squelch of your guts wet his hand, your blood dripping down from the hilt and making the handle sticky. He didn’t mind, didn’t seem to care as he watched you with interest. Your death seemed to fascinate him almost as he pushed it deeper into your struggling body. He set you down when you were done, finally done with this trial. Somehow… he liked it. The way you squirmed, how you didn’t quite accept it as it was happening. He’ll be sure to save you for last the next time he sees you.

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id-rather-be-an-outsider · 1 year

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Staring Contest

summary: Michael Myers and Ghostface are sent to the same map by the Entity, just to see what happens.

word count: 303

a/n: wrote this as a bday present to someone in my writing club and they liked it a lot :) hopefully you guys like it too!

Michael Myers trudged through the Gideon Meatplant, for some reason incapable of finding a single survivor to stalk. Every corner he turned, he was filled with anticipation — anticipation of the blood he wanted to spill. No group of survivors was ever this good. Michael knew that when he found them, the satisfaction of throwing them on a hook would be extra sweet.

Unbeknownst to him, his opponent wasn’t a survivor at all — the Ghostface had been tracking him for quite some time, confused as to why the Entity sent him to a map with someone clearly armed and meant to be a killer. He may not have understood it, but he resigned himself to his task nonetheless, stalking his prey.

Ghostface paused, hiding around a corner as he scratched an itch on his backside, before leaning back around the corner to watch Michael again. Michael was nowhere to be seen. Did he figure it out? Ghostface started looking around himself, trying to find the Shape, and was (very regrettably) successful after coming face to face with Michael, right behind him.

Ghostface jumped out of his skin, yelling, “Ah!”

But Michael was frozen, and Ghostface quickly realized he was staring at him, unblinkingly. Beneath his mask, Ghostface smirked. He knew how this would end. He set his eyes open, tilting his head to the side and staring… and staring… and staring. His eyes felt dry, but Michael hadn’t blinked yet. Ghostface’s eyes began to sting, but he couldn’t let Michael win. Eventually, his eyes burned, and he realized that Michael wouldn’t be able to see him blink — he’s wearing a mask.

Ghostface blinked, giving his eyes relief, and Michael made a noise that sounded like laughter. “Hah!” Michael’s muffled voice rang out, and he pointed at Ghostface.

Ghostface balked, incredulous. “How did you know???”

#dbd fanfic #dead by daylight #michael myers #ghostface #the shape dbd #ghostface dbd #danny jed olsen johnson

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