#crystallake

Our boy finally enters the Fog! 🔪

After 10 years, Jason is finally in Dead by Daylight and I’m honestly so happy about it. I had a lot of fun experimenting with the new Jason Universe design while working on this. It feels really cool seeing him added alongside so many iconic horror characters. Fan artists have always made awesome crossover artworks based on this game, so it’s great that he’s no longer left out! ❤

evan macmillian / reader || sacrificing you.

One could see that the metal spikes that had sprouted beneath his flesh since  last trial were new; they could tell they were fresh wounds because of the way they bled, and how the flesh around the protrusions was irritated - angry, and red. Every movement he made was met with unrelenting pain, and he could feel his muscles begging for a moment of sweet reprieve. 

It, had taken notice. Of course it did; malevolence made real was notorious for having a way of knowing things. It was equally notorious for knowing precisely how to break someone down. His body almost works on its own, mind placed somewhere else, and he barely registers the screams, or how the cleaver cut into his hand that much more every time he made a successful strike. 

He was a machine, deadly in his efficiency, stuttering only when the last of them - the object of his affections - was upon the ground, bleeding out into the dirt from a large gash in their middle.

"Please,", they said, voice distorted and broken - and Evan, suddenly lucid, wanted to die. True to the saying, eyes were the windows to the soul, and all he could see in the others', was betrayal, and a fear of the inevitable. 

Anything he wanted to say gets caught in his throat, frozen, busy staring at the way they writhed upon the ground. Their eyes were red, and a trickle of blood had streamed from their left nostril, over their lips, down their chin. They had been so kind to him, he had found a home in the form of another person - another body - once more, and this is was the repayment he offered?

There was a voice that wormed its way into his head as he grappled with himself - it echoed that he would be rendered obsolete should he succumb to emotion once more, and that he and his paramour could be wiped from existence should It even consider it. The fresh metal embedded into his skin, puncturing his lung, was barely a threat. Staying relevant, and consequentially, alive was necessary.

He tries to grip them like he would any of his other prey, but finds himself placing them over his shoulder carefully regardless. The hum of the hatch was audible nearby, in close vicinity, and on any other day he would have allowed them the escape with pleasure and without hesitation. They don’t bother squirming on his shoulder, and he wishes they would, so he wouldn’t have to listen to their quiet whimpering or half suffocated sobs.