#beartrappcd

jess: hey doofus

@beartrappcd said: ❛  when i imagined us grunting together, this is not what i pictured.  ❜  im cryin

from until dawn meme !!! 

            even in his delusional stage he laughs. what a weird thing to say! after having his lights punched out by the guy and being accused of murder-- to be flirted with now? wild! “don’t flirt with me when my feet are sinking into this shit-- there’s probably bodies in this mud.” he says it without thinking, without much emotion behind it. because, yeah, he’s probably right. wasn’t there some miner disaster down here? where like.... a bunch of them got trapped and died? didn’t that stop the operation?

@beartrappcd​ || “ i didn’t want to do that  ,  i was just so scared ”

This can’t be happening. It can’t be; Andrew doesn’t want to accept it. His shaking hands press desperately to the wound, trying to apply pressure like he’s seen people do in the movies— but it doesn’t seem to do anything. Dark crimson seeps between his fingers, drenching his already filthy clothes with Emily’s blood; he’s pretty sure the choked little noises she’s making are the worst thing he’s ever heard. (Right up until the horrible moment she goes silent, that is.)

He’s still holding onto his cousin when the light goes out of her eyes, and it feels like part of him dies with her. The worst part is, i’s not the first time this has happened; he’s starting to see a pattern now. A pattern of failure laid out in visions of the past, of his friends all dying and begging him to help— but he never manages to save them. How many times is he going to let down the people he loves?

Andrew’s whole body shakes as he gets to his feet, his gaze vacant as a wave of nausea crashes over him— and it’s only after he empties his stomach on the grass nearby that he realizes he’s sobbing. Once that registers, it’s like the rest of the world starts to filter in, too; he notices Daniel standing beside him, trying to comfort him, while Taylor stares at Emily with her hands over her mouth in horror. And Mike... Mike is pacing. He’s holding his head and babbling, but nothing he’s saying registers because Andrew can’t stop staring at the gun still clasped in his other hand. Even after John snatches it away and chucks it into the woods, Andrew still sees it; some masochistic part of his brain keeps reminding him that the barrel of that gun is one of the last things his cousin ever saw. 

Oh fuck, Mike killed her. He shot her, she’s gone—

 A few things are filtering in now, like Mike saying he didn’t mean it; he was just scared. It almost sounds like he’s begging for understanding. While Andrew knows he’s probably telling the truth, and that everything had happened so fast it’s unlikely he had cruel intentions (the silhouette could’ve been anything, after all, and Mike wasn’t the only one to jump to conclusions), he still can’t help but lash out when the older boy looks to him for reassurance. For justification.

Emily wasn’t always the nicest; Andrew knows that. She had a mean streak, and a tendency to argue, but the same could be said for the rest of the group, too, couldn’t it? It doesn’t mean they’re bad people. They don’t deserve to die. Maybe Andrew’s biased because they’re family, but Emily still should’ve had the chance to walk out of here with the rest of them.

If they ever do make it out of this damn town, that is.

We are the punchline of one of those shitty 80′s movies. There’s A KILLER on the loose, MAYBE TWO, and you know what? He is  THE HERO  that is supposed to save us, you’re THE FLIRT who usually dies before anyone else but the first victim, and I am THE ROCKER who almost makes it to the end. We are bound to die. Seriously, unless horror movies are wrong but I doubt that we will make it out of this. 

GIVE ME A 👍 IF YOU LIKE HOW I PLAY MY MUSE  !

!!!!! Thank you!!!! I legit love your blog though as well!!! 👌👌👌👌

ill break his little twig legs if he does

There was the tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock coming from the corner of whatever place the Wraith found himself in && then lithe fingers grasped at the cloak that hung from his torso. they experimentally tugged at it to make sure it was properly in place && not torn. Once that was done, the digits moved down to carefully && gently pull at the bandages wrapped around his lower body in order to check if they were still tightly wrapped around him.

White orbs eventually appeared once the bright flare of lights that had been turned on in the room lessened considerably ( a consequence to his improved night vision, no doubt ). Unfortunately so, the Wraith found himself partially blinded && was more set on finding a way out of this godforsaken brightness than figuring out where he'd ended up. In any case, he'd need to be able to see if he ever planned on getting somewhere.

Wherever he was, this wasn't the entity's realm. Perhaps it had made an error && sent him elsewhere rather than where the ' game ' would take place but either way the Wraith knew no place could be this bright in the possible locations he could be sent to.

-- && so he stood, one arm moving up to shield his eyes from the glaring lights before he searched for his two trustworthy ‘ partners ’; his bell and his weapon. With no sight of the two, he narrowed his eyes && instead opened the door barring his way from the hallway that, hopefully, led outside. Once leaving the room he was glad to see it was marginally darker && therefore allowed him to see again.