#projectsofruin

your drag your fingers along the back of his scalp, feeling the thick, rough scar.

the spot of his head that split against the hard pavement dipped in slightly, mostly dismissable to the eye, but it felt unnaturally flat on your fingertips.

one more uncanny reminder of his cursed existence.

he's undead, a corpse, and functionally a slave.

but the heat of his breath on your neck and the eagerness in his movements suggest otherwise. you apologize softly, to which he gives you a deep, needy kiss in response.

in the aftermath, you're laying on his chest, breathing in the sweet muskiness of his skin. but your mind is swimming, unable to shake your concerns.

"does it hurt a lot?" you look up, eyes drooping at him pitifully like he's a stray animal. brian sighs deeply and stays silent for a couple moments before planting a sincere peck on your forehead.

"yes." he affirms without a pang of grief in his voice, like it's just the fact of the matter.

only when your eyes start to well up with tears does he frown, realizing the price of his brutal honesty. he couldn't lie to you, even now, in trying to comfort you.

"it's not as bad as when it happened. my body was never built to reconstruct so much damage in the first place. healing in the following months was slow and grueling, and at some point, it idled."

his eyes wandered while the memories resurfaced, brows turning inward to meet each other.

"i think the injuries a part of me now, a little souvenir from my traumatic past."

brian's cups your cheek into his palm and brushes away a tear with his thumb. "listen, i don't care to know how i'm still breathing, long as i get to share the air with you."

a weak grin tugs at your lips. the memories of your lover replay in your mind. the one whose voice cracks when singing to the cheesy dad rock he plays in the car.

who silently takes note of everything you touch or pick up while shopping, mentally logging your covets and tastes. and keeps a blanket in his backseat in case you'd ever need it on a cold nights wandering with him through the forest.

whose naughty grin you watch carefully after your flirtatious advances, just to catch a glimpse of his little tooth gap.

brian leans down for a kiss, derailing your train of thought. you melt into him, eyes fluttering shut.

"i love you, bri." you confessed into his lips, as you have many times over and over in the past. brian pulls away just enough that your noses are still touching, his lashes brushing your cheek.

"i love you so much."

🜏[ruin's masterlist]

🜏[if i cannot inspire love, i will cause fear

his dark curls and silly, wicked grin, those sweet cocoa-colored eyes that just make your knees go weak every time he looks your way.

how good his lean, freckled arms look in his band tee, his scarred knee peeking through the rip in his black, tattered jeans.

his heavy belt buckle and chain drags them down, almost tauntingly, just over the ridge of his hips, exposing a sliver of pale skin.

watching his hands, flashy rings on his bony fingers, nails painted solid black, when he throws the dice on the table.

sticking around after club sessions end.

sparks flying as you pick his brain and make gentle advances before he caves and asks to see you over the weekend.

eddie picks you up and treats you to his personal favorite vices, all while looking super hot doing it.

a heavy metal cd on, van brimming with pot smoke, the two of you bantering and laughing, bodies drawing closer throughout the night.

his hands brush your shoulder or your knee a little too often, the touch of his fingers shocking your skin with a warmth that makes your insides turn.

the wailing electric guitar shreds over a thundering drum beat from the dash. the air in the van is so hot, so hazy, and the weed makes everything feel fuzzy and heavy.

it feels warm and weighty, like the aching throbbing of your heart against your ribs as eddie looks at you with a smug, half-lidded gaze. tracing a line from your eye to your lips and down your neck and chest.

closing the distance and throwing your arms over his shoulders to latch onto him. his hands find your waist as he sinks into you.

his lips are plush like velvet, the peppery tinge of smoke lingering on your tongue after pulling away from the kiss. the soft scratchiness of his stubble against your jaw makes you shiver.

eddie’s eyes glaze over, dazed and dreamy. his lips and cheeks burning a rosy glow as he nibbles your bottom lip, holding your body to his hips.

the feeling you get the first time he opens the door for you at hellfire, the two of you attending a club meeting hand in hand.

neither of you acknowledge how you’re wearing eddie’s denim jacket for the campaign session.

trying not to crack a smile when he throws you mischievous looks across the table during his narration.

letting him finally press you against the chalkboard at the end of the session, all hushed giggles and chalk dust scattered on your clothes, your lips smacking until you're almost out of sunlight in the study room.

you blink rapidly a few times and turn your head from his waistline, a poor attempt to not arouse suspicion.

he notices. he doesn't say anything.

instead, your eyes assess the room. the leather couch you're sharing is beaten soft and has cracks exposing the fluffy contents.

the wallpaper is faded and peeling in the corners, cobwebs and dust bunnies gathered in various spots on the floor or the ceiling.

it smells like faintly like mildew and bleach all at once, and the windows are cracked wide open to invite the cold, evening wind to blow all around the room.

you shiver, instinctively curling into the body next to yours. the hoodie is insulating his body heat and you leaned in, giving his shoulder a small huff.

freshly washed. a calculated move.

he's the once source of warmth and softness you can feel as the crisp air pricks goosebumps over you.

before you can register your actions- an order from your throat, but it feels like it came from a place lower, deeper inside you.

"take your hoodie off." your voice comes out more stern than you intended.

brian's brows force wrinkles into his forehead, the corner of his lips curl slightly into his cheek, and his eyes are wide and gleefully stunned.

his taken aback expression only casts over his face momentarily, before his eyes darken again while he scans you from head to toe.

"here i was thinking you were the one who just wanted to hang out..."

brian's gaze finds yours again, tauntingly he fumbles with the trim of his hood with his thumb.

his twisted, knowing grin makes your heart sink.

"don't play dumb. guys on dating apps are never sincere. i'm just cold, brian."

his eyes shift around to the open windows before settling back on your exposed legs and arms.

"if i shut those windows, do i get to keep my hoodie?" he teases.

your gut tremors at how his tooth gap peeks through his smirks and when he swipes his fingers through his dirty blonde hair.

you open your mouth, but you haven't landed on a response. brian just chuckles softly, straightening up in his seat.

his fingers find the back of his hood and he pulls it whole over his shoulders, unveiling the bare skin underneath.

"thanks-" you start to reach for the hoodie, but brian tugs it back toward his chest to deny you. he clicks his tongue while shaking his head.

"tsk tsk tsk... if i let you wear my hoodie, it has to be the only thing you're wearing, babe."

be for fucking real. you roll your eyes, arms now folded over one another, clutching your own warmth now that brian has withdrawn.

"ugh... you're such a pervert." you shoot, but he's absorbs the blow.

his voice is calm, assured. "you'll do it for me."

hot embarrassment singed your skin, you feel blood flushing your cheeks and over your chest. once again, your mouth opens to challenge him, but the words get lost in your throat.

brian fills the silence. "i know why you came over. you've been eyeing me since you got here, hon."

he sinks back into the couch, holding his scrunched up hoodie in one hand and resting the free one on his thigh. his posture is lazy, cocky.

"you like me, so you'll listen to me, won't you?"

you dart your eyes away from his and instead, brian's naked torso snatches your attention.

his neck tapers perfectly into the curves of his broad shoulders. the smooth muscles of his chest and padded belly speckled with scars and thin patches of blonde hair.

it captivates you briefly, your thighs press against each other to manage the heat sprouting low in your core. then, you break.

damn your pride. you want it as much as he does.

"okay... i- i want your hoodie." your voice comes out a soft croak this time, as you pull your shirt over your head. your tits fall free, your skin all blushed pink.

"see? that wasn't so hard. you fold so easily, babe."

brian watches as you kick off your shorts and panties, immediately bringing your knees to your chest after feeling the shock of enveloping cold.

he smirks evilly at your trembling body, humming when you scrunch your nose at him with disdain.

finally, brian's hand unravels the fabric and wedges the neckline over your head.

you sigh with relief as the hoodie falls over your poor body that's been aching for comfort. it's big, heavy, and the inside is coated with the scent of him.

after a beat of peace, you feel a set of prying fingers coil around your ankle, pulling your leg out from the inside of the hoodie.

you look up at brian, who's shifting his body on top of you, flattening your leg against the couch's cushion under you.

you know what's coming next and your heart throbs against your ribcage at the anticipation.

brian traces his fingers up your thigh, pressing his palm into your hip just under the hem of his hoodie. his touch nips at your skin with something electric.

he finally spoke. "hm... now i'm feelin' a bit cold, babe. you'll help me out, right?" his hungry eyes bore into yours.

brian has a dangerous glint in his eye, one that should've raised concern. but instead, the expression made your heart twist with heat, a recognizable ache.

you were breathless and undone, suffocated by a desire too strong to resist.

so you nodded.

brian hinges his neck to lock his mouth on yours. his kiss is heavy, needy, lips pressed tightly against yours. he nearly smashes his face into yours with how greedy he is.

his tongue slips between your lips to trace the inside of your mouth, probing deeper into your throat, making you gag softly.

brian's hand creeps between your thighs to feel your naked, already soaked pussy. he snickers against your mouth when you gasp at his invasive touch.

"fuck, you're this wet for me? i really need to give it to you, then, huh?"

your eyes are squeezed shut as he drags his fingers in your folds, spreading your wetness to your clit. the sensation knocks the wind out of your lungs.

"look at me and watch." brian orders. you obey, prying your eyes open to his sickly satisfied face. he pulls his fingers away from you to find his belt buckle.

brian's pants hit the floor, his hard shaft poking out of the center of his hips. you swallow hard at the saliva welling up in your mouth.

he lays you on your back, throwing your knee over his shoulder as he lines himself up at your entrance.

both of you let out deep, breathy moans as his tip stretches the ring of your cunt. your body writhes as he thrusts deeper, his hard cock pushing against your walls.

you clutch the back of his neck, fingers ruffling his hair as he slides himself in and out, wet squelches coming off his movements.

whimpers escape your lips and deep grunts come from him as he fucks you into the cushions, the weight of his body held up just enough not to crush you completely.

his throbbing cock makes your insides feel so full of him and so beaten raw, but you're clenching him for more.

your hips lift up to meet him, the angle allowing him even deeper. brian growls in response to your eagerness, gripping your waist to rock you harder, rougher onto him.

brian's thighs smack obscenely against your ass as he spreads your legs wider, lifting them higher and nearly folding you.

drool pools in your jaw as he pounds your insides, his tip rubbing your sweet spots with brutal pressure. hot tension swells in your gut, building up and burning you inside out.

you can't do anything but moan and squirm under him as he fucks you stupid, your nails digging into his back and biceps to mitigate the overwhelming pleasure.

he grunts with each devastating thrust, muttering curses and growling softly.

"holy shit, your pussy feels too good. fuck..."

then, brian's hand finds your throat, pressing his fingers into your soft skin, holding you in place. his firm grip sends a rush of numbness to your head.

you let out a whiny moan in response and the lewd sound rings in brian's ears.

his pace starts to falter, hips ramming into you desperately, cock twitching against your walls. he's fucking you wide open into a hot, slippery, whimpering mess and it's all too much for you to handle.

the drag of his solid length inside you, the blissful pressure of his fingers around your neck. his heaving grunts and the faint smell of his sweat.

"bri... mmh- you're gonna make me cum- ah!" you choked out the words just before your reach your breaking point.

your cunt squeezes brian's cock, forming to its shape and its grooves. pulses of white hot pleasure ripple through your body as he fucks you through your orgasm, thighs shaking violently against his hips.

"goddamn baby... fuck- i'm gonna cum..."

that's enough to tip brian off the edge with you and he lets out a long, throaty groan as he releases thick spurts of his seed inside your ruined pussy.

his hand remains clutched around your throat for a few moments while your bodies come down from the high. he shoots you a cruel grin, wedging himself deeper inside, making the juices squelch and spill out of you.

you moan and make a pouty face at him, which he resolves by planting a firm peck on your lips. "don't be like that, you loved it." he teases.

and he couldn't be more right.

"my hoodie looks awesome on you, actually. borrow it."

now, when you open your closet door and spot the yellow hood on the rack, the memories come flooding back, pressure and warmth comes flooding back to your core.

it replays in your mind, the biting cold, a depraved killer fucking you sensless in his hoodie.

brian's muddy brown eyes, defined jaw and cheekbones, and the rough brush of his mustache on your lips when he kisses you.

his cockiness, the faint smell of bleach on his skin, how maddening his touch is, and how relentlessly he pounded you into that couch.

you're haunted by his fuck every time you put it on- it's probably your new favorite hoodie.

🜏 [ruin's masterlist] 🜏 [if i cannot inspire love, i will cause fear

“I’m got you, I got you!”

“You’re so fun-sized!”

He wears a black and white striped shirt with a black ruffled collar under plain black overalls. It’s an intense sight paired with his striped cone nose and wiry, black locks of hair. His black gloves and oversized shoes give him a dreamy, whimsical look in contrast.

You know how he looks when looking at him in the dim lights of the mansion, but his form becomes translucent in direct light.

Unobserving bystanders are clueless when you are walking about the streets with him, entering markets, clubs, and events seemingly on your own.

“Let’s go out to play.”

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow you.”

“Need to stay with you.”

Jack doesn’t mind what you’re doing. So long as he is close by and with you. There's hardly a moment where he isn't at your hip, clutching your waist with his claw-like hands. No one bats an eye when he clutches your ass or gives it a little spank.

You just melt when animals sense his presence and he playfully greets them. The owner gives you an apologetic but confused look when their pet begins to bark or jump around your side frantically. His clawed fingers ruffle the animal’s fur with tenderness and care.

“Awww, little furballs!”

“They’re the best.”

Slenderman’s assignment to Jack is mansion groundskeeper. As an extradimensional entity, the clown could decide to leave the Slenderwoods and never return to fulfill the role, but he’s content with the company of the mansion’s inhabitants. Most of all, he couldn't leave his pretty dolly.

Missions pry everyone away, leaving Jack to mostly himself to roam about the halls, sighing dramatically at the lack of stimulation.

“This is no fun.”

After a brutal mission that leaves you drained and bloodied, Jack tends to your bedside with that sickeningly sweet optimism. It doesn’t register to him to offer medicine and bandages instead of toys and treats, but he figures the latter is what would’ve made him feel better.

“Aw, you’re broken like me. I’ll fix you up, dolly.”

At the mansion, Jack demands to have you make sweet treats and snacks with him in the kitchen. He doesn’t even feel hunger, he just makes a game out of it. He’s so fucking adorable with his hair tied into a ponytail, frosting on his nose, and a heavy dusting of powdered sugar on his apron.

The proxies and creeps sneer at the spills and smears across the walls and counters, but you don't mind having to spend the extra time with Jack to tidy up afterwards.

“Need something sweet, like you!”

Jack pulls you in close to lick your lips and cheeks clean. You giggle and squirm at his tongue and cry “Eww!” but he just holds you in his arms, working his head lower onto your chest and stomach, tasting the sweet coating on your skin.

“Give me some sugar. Need my fix.”

“I love how you taste, sooo sweet.”

You push against him but the clown’s frame is too big, too heavy, and it's all too easy for him to pick up and place you on your back, spreading you wide open for him.

Jack licks and kisses you all over your face, neck, tits, and thighs until his face ends up centered at your warm folds. His tongue explores you and he devours you with an amused grin flashing from underneath you.

“Need to play with you.”

“Let’s have some fun.”

The clown loves to face you while he fucks you, whether your on top or he is, Jack is obsessed with the sounds and faces you make when he's inside. Every thrust earns a moan or an eye roll that drives him crazy.

“I love you too much, need you so bad.”

Jack squeezes your body to his so tight, fingers gripping your skin like you’re a toy, a stuffed doll. He lets out huffs and low whines into your shoulder as drags his length in and out of you.

“You feel so perfect, my little doll.”

“Mmm, sweet, sweet girl.”

“Too much, feels too good.”

Jack loses all resolve to hear you say you love and need him too. He’ll cum inside you as a result of you returning his professions of love. Despite not cursing on a regular basis, a grunted “Fuck,” rips from Jack’s throat after his orgasm crashes through him. His arms fly around you and he presses his lips to your forehead, holding you possessively while he rests.

“You belong to me, my pretty dolly.”

Jack wears his mask along with a beanie, a pullover hoodie and cargo pants almost exclusively. He feels comfortable in that ensemble around the mansion or elsewhere.

In the lab, you love to see him shed his beanie, hoodie and mask to free his dark, fluffy hair and stone-carved chest and arms.

He doesn't want to get his casual clothes too bloodied, so he'll throw on just a butcher's apron while he harvests.

It's your favorite thing to see him in, just his pants and apron, while he works expertly with a scalpel in hand. You appreciate his lean muscles and fine motor skills.

The lab is kept cold for preservation purposes. So, you keep plenty of blankets and plushies to keep you comfortable. At first, you would get sick relentlessly, but over time your body adjusted to it.

The cold doesn't bother Jack so much, but he would never complain over an excuse to hold you. In fact, he doesn't feel much discomfort from temperature or pain at all. It's there, but he has immense tolerance.

The worst feeling for him is hunger.

"I got you."

"There you go, sweetie."

On missions, Jack's attention remains on objective while holding you on his arm. You honestly think he looks so sexy when he's so focused, and you swoon when he easily guides you through uneven footing or tricky bends in the forest.

His heightened senses allows his attention to span between analyzing and navigating while keeping you safe and close.

"Let me look at it."

"Does it hurt bad, sweetheart?"

When you get injuries, he's very quick at examining you. After determining that you're okay, he can't help himself. You look so cute blushing and trembling.

"I could just eat you up."

"Just a lick? You can say no, but you smell so fucking tasty."

You never deny him. You love the sting of his firm tongue against your torn skin. Jack just gets a taste of your blood before dressing the wound, the constant exposure helps him have control.

But you always taste so delicious to him. Even if he didn't love you, he couldn't ever kill you and waste the perfect little snack.

"Thanks, my love."

He'll always kiss the wound after, and makes sure you have water, painkillers, and whatever else you need.

Jack is effortlessly chill most of the time. Mostly cause he doesn't care so much. But, when something does bother him, he'll be in his own head like crazy.

He'll get all heated but try hide it. You can't help but tease because seeing him get worked up is pretty hot.

"You're the worst."

The demon has a short fuse but normally maintains composure well. Your rage bait works on him quickly, but he also gets over it quickly.

"Just kidding, you're the best."

Jack's laugh is a deep, resonant chuckle. When he's really fucking laughing, it'll morph into a sort of howl with the widest, fangy smile that turns you on so much.

"Goddamn, you're perfect."

"I love you so much, you're fucking mine."

"I'm gonna have a piece of you now."

Jack loves eating you out, no surprises there. He can't get enough of your soft, moist skin, your smell, and your juices. He's really good at working his tongue, trying to get a taste of every inch of your sweet parts.

"You taste so yummy, baby. I need more."

His favorite way to fuck you is from behind, so he can bite your neck and shoulders while using your hips to rock you onto him.

"I can't stop, you feel so fucking good, baby."

"You're so fucking tasty it's driving me nuts."

Your scent is maddening to him, sometimes he'll go too far in drawing blood with his sharp fangs. He mumbles his sorries but he knows full well the pain gives you a rush.

"You're all mine, got it?"

"Fuck, I love having you like this."

Jack likes to pound you at a leisurely pace, burying each thrust deep inside you. He holds you possessively, mouthing you all over. His claws grip your flesh so hard, but you like to see the scratches he leaves behind.

"I'm gonna lose it, baby, you feel too fucking good."

"Fuck, I'm almost there, kiss me."

He has to finish while kissing you or biting down on you, he needs the oral fixation while he pumps you full of his cum.

After the damage is done, Jack makes sure to nurse any wounds and clean you up. The demon then wraps his arms around you, cuddling you tight while you both drift to sleep, smiling.

"Damn it, I'm in love with you."

[my EJ doodle based on this post]

In addition to his signature mask, goggles, and gloves, he normally wears some loosely fit jeans, a high collared shirt, and his striped hoodie. Toby has this one fur-trimmed windbreaker that you love to see him in, though. He wears it on late-night hiking dates in the slenderwoods. 

“Isn’t it a p-pretty night, b-baby?” 

He likes to look at the stars, they remind him of you. Toby loves the forest, he feels at home among the trees and wild fauna, but most of all, with you. He loves to take you out just to make out with you under the night sky. 

Sometimes Toby’s like a stray animal you befriended, always nuzzling your head, arms, legs, and stomach. He likes to gift you things he finds hanging out in the forest. He’ll even climb tall trees to retrieve high-hanging fruit, flowers, or otherwise.

“Stay here, I’ll be ba-back.” 

“D-do you like it, m-my love?” 

Toby just likes to show off, but you love it so you indulge him. You like to watch him carefully find his grip and his footing, his athleticism is so sexy to you. Not to mention his shirt always rides up to highlight his abs and happy trail. 

The killer can be reckless, though, considering his lack of pain response. Sometimes you worry for him badly, but he always holds your face and kisses you over and over to reassure you. He gets injured and ends up being the one to comfort you because you’re upset that he’s hurt. 

“I’m always s-safe out th-there, baby.” 

“It doesn't b-bo-bother me, t-trust me.” 

At the mansion, Toby looks really hot when he opts for a tank top that displays his toned arms, covered in scars and gashes. Without his goggles, you really appreciate how sexy his dark eyes are and his little chin stubble. 

If there’s no mission calls, you guys play a lot of games in Toby’s room. He’s better than you at video games, but you’re better than him at board games and cards.

Regardless of the game, he’s a true rage-quitter. Especially if you guys end up making it a drinking game.

“So f-fu-fucking pissed.” 

“I’m g-go-gonna lose my sh-shit.”

Toby can get insecure. He knows how polarizing he can be, the brutality he’s capable of. Might even compare himself to Jeff in terms of charisma and to Ben in terms of intellect. He envies the Jacks’ eldritch power. 

“I'm r-repulsive, huh?” 

But he’s just perfect to you. 

Toby is a big cuddler - and takes any chance he can to breathe in the scent of your skin. He’ll grab you and throw you down onto his bed with him, holding you to him, his body heat soothing and comforting you. You love to run your fingers through his thick, fluffy locks and his toothy smile makes your heart jump. 

“I can’t b-be-believe you're real, an a-actual angel.” 

Toby kisses you desperately, like he’s afraid you’ll fade away when it’s over. He gets paranoid you’re a hallucination, too good to be true. But when you throw your arms over his shoulders, he’s reassured you’re just his guardian angel on Earth. 

“So f-fu-fucking happy with you.” 

“L-let me hear you, I love it so m-much.”

Toby’s favorite thing about fingering you is hearing your moans and whimpers. The killer will lean in close to listen to your breath hitch as he strokes your clit. He chuckles satisfiedly at the wet sound you make as his fingers pump in and out of your entrance. 

“Holy sh-shit, baby, you feel s-so amazing.” 

“T-talk to me, my love, feeling g-good?” 

Missionary is the go to, he loves looking at you and kissing you while he’s inside. His fuck is even more desperate than his kiss. Toby delivers you fast, punishing thrusts that leave your pussy all hot and raw, thighs clenching on him.

“Can I t-try s-so-omething on you, baby?” 

“You look so g-go-gorgeous like this” 

There was a time that you started coaxing him while he was bandaging up his wounds. Toby looked at the roll of bandages and got the idea to tie your wrists to the bedframe.

Ever since then, he can’t get enough of the sounds you make when you’re helplessly strung up, arms over your head, just taking the pounding he gives you. 

Toby is soft swearer during sex. The faces he makes are so cute, those half-lidded eyes, furrowed brows, and little lip bites. When he’s ready to cum, he lets out small whines that make your cunt melt around him. 

“F-fu-fuck.”

“Sh-shit, feels so good.” 

“D-damn it, I’m so close.” 

Toby collapses on top of you after he finishes, but while smothering you with more sweaty nuzzles and kisses, he manages to free your bound hands to let you hold him back. Then, comes the best nap you’ve ever taken.

“I love you s-so m-much, my angel.”

The first one to bring up the subject of weed at the mansion was Ben, much to everyone's surprise. He looks rather young compared to the others, sure, but he’s a dedicated stoner. 

For rotations, it's normally Ben, Nina, or EJ’s handiwork being passed around. Ben can roll a decent doobie, but EJ is super dexterous and can construct some neatly packed and really smooth king-sized cones. 

Nina likes to show off her cutesy, artificially colored and flavored rolling papers. Jeff is lazy about it and refuses to contribute. 

The worst roller is Toby, he can't help that his tics make it hard to be precise. He keeps a dab bar on him for convenience. When he gets high though, his tics become slightly less frequent. 

Nat asks to borrow Toby’s dab bar sometimes and it gets returned with a significant portion missing. Both she and Nina have a pretty bad issue with fruit flavored nicotine vapes too.

Jeff coughs hard but smokes hard too. His lungs are destroyed because he’s also a cigarette smoker and he likes blunts.

 Jeff’s also known to have sticky fingers when it comes to cigs, weed, lighters, etc. He’ll be shamelessly stealing buds from Ben's stash. The elf knows he’ll get back at Jeff somehow. 

Ben likes to take fat rips off his bong between video game rounds. He’s high the most often out of all the proxies, partly because he lowkey likes to maintain the “pothead-gamer” aesthetic.

Nina outdoes Ben in that department - her novelty glass pipe collection is straight out of a Pinterest board. She and Kate share and maintain them. 

EJ smokes less than the others because frankly, no other sensation is more gratifying than feeding after being hungry. He gets a unique sort of high after a hunt. However, he does like to smoke socially and enjoys blunts and joints. 

The smoke is pretty nasty for LJ, and weed (or any substances, really) doesn't have an affect on the clown so much. If anything, he’ll eat infused gummies and brownies because he enjoys a sugary treat. 

Toby and EJ get all stupid and laugh like idiots, but Jeff just stumps out on the couch with a vacant expression, gripping a knife if he has too much. 

Kate is normally non-verbal, so hearing her little high chuckles at Nina’s stoned ranting is rare. LJ tunes into her lively reenactments with little claps and smiles. 

Ben can generally outsmoke almost all the proxies, but Nat’s tolerance just about matches his. Those two have the most refined conversations about strain properties and quality. 

During a sesh at the mansion, Sally takes a couple toys with her and goes to her treehouse in the forest. She likes to long nap in her soft blankets or hunt little animals.

Sally doesn’t need it at all, but Jane chaperones her because she feels like it and doesn’t like smoking all that much anyway.

[the proxy's ideal dates headcanons]

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