i'm so sick

all the following prompts are taken from lines of spoken dialogue from nearly every voiced dead by daylight (2015) killer as of writing this.

❝ and now, you are mine. ❞

❝ are you trying to make me angry? ❞

❝ aw, you should cry for help. ❞

❝ by the way, big fan! ❞

❝ can you hear me? ❞

❝ can you help lift this? ❞

❝ destiny can be quite fun at times. ❞

❝ don’t be overdramatic. ❞

❝ don’t look at me like that. ❞

❝ fear and death. perfect. ❞

❝ full disclosure, i am gonna kill you. ❞

❝ get out of my sight. ❞

❝ gotcha. ❞

❝ great atmosphere. ❞

❝ growth often hurts. ❞

❝ ha, the look on your face. ❞

❝ have you been looking for me? ❞

❝ have you seen my dog? ❞

❝ hey, come here… come here… ❞

❝ hey, i’ve got something for you… ❞

❝ hiding like a child? ❞

❝ how dare you? ❞

❝ i don’t know whether to laugh or cry. ❞

❝ i got you now, pretty boy. ❞

❝ i love the smell of fear. ❞

❝ i will not be denied my happiness. ❞

❝ it would be dull without me. ❞

❝ it’s real. it’s happening. ❞

❝ i’ll send you a postcard. ❞

❝ i’m about to elevate your worth. ❞

❝ i’m going to enjoy this. ❞

❝ i’m here to claim what is left of you. ❞

❝ i’m the fun one! ❞

❝ let me end your suffering. ❞

❝ let’s be together until we die. ❞

❝ let’s go for a walk. ❞

❝ life is what we make it. ❞

❝ look at you! you’re the best. ❞

❝ love me. fear me. ❞

❝ my heart pounds for this. ❞

❝ no one should be late to their own death. ❞

❝ no one will hurt you. no one but me. ❞

❝ nobody leaves tonight. ❞

❝ now i’m mad! ❞

❝ oh, the anticipation… ❞

❝ oh, wow… you’re gonna wanna see this… ❞

❝ once again, it’s just you and me. ❞

❝ pain is all you’re good for. ❞

❝ play with fire and you’ll get burned. ❞

❝ poor little [name]... ❞

❝ psst… over here… ❞

❝ shame we had to meet like this. ❞

❝ something great is about to happen. ❞

❝ sorry, is this yours? ❞

❝ squirm, little worm. ❞

❝ stop blabbering. it’s really annoying. ❞

❝ surprising for an inferior life form. ❞

❝ terribly frightening, isn’t it? ❞

❝ the powerful always judge the weak. ❞

❝ there is a reason we are here. ❞

❝ there is no hope. not for them, not for us. ❞

❝ this is embarrassing… can you help, please? ❞

❝ this was your plan? ❞

❝ very clever. ❞

❝ what an emotional display. ❞

❝ what are you doing in here? ❞

❝ what is your deal, man? ❞

❝ whatever happens, i’ll be back again. ❞

❝ why don’t we play a little game? ❞

❝ why so nervous tonight? ❞

❝ yes, yes. i see the cat, too. ❞

❝ you are one annoying little worm. ❞

❝ you give me the creeps. ❞

❝ you humans are so pathetic. ❞

❝ you must be lonely here. ❞

❝ you should thank me for this. ❞

❝ you shouldn’t do such things. ❞

❝ you were never the hero. ❞

❝ you were off-key. ❞

❝ you will make a lovely plaything. ❞

❝ you’ll never see your family again. ❞

❝ you’re a boil, a sore, everything that irritates me. ❞

❝ you’re a liar. ❞

❝ you’re driving me crazy! ❞

❝ you’re in big trouble! ❞

❝ you’re not saving the day today. ❞

❝ you’re unfit for any place but here. ❞

❝ you’ve made a huge mistake. ❞

charlie goes very, very still. this isn’t a particularly difficult endeavour; it isn’t even noticeable. he looks the same as he always does: as though someone had embalmed him long ago, and now he was only just going through the motions of being alive, of being something living.

how did @vindixta figure out that he knew? what gave it away?

maybe it was the staring. probably it was. he spent most of their appointments observing her from his peripheral. while scribbling notes into the margins of veronica’s manuscript, he was also taking a mental inventory of her every fidget, her every backward glance.

' that is what i heard, ' he says eventually, putting down his pen. the inflection in his voice falls flat, becoming monotone on the exhale.

[ GREENHORN VALLEY VIEW: ] masked killer brutalizes local birthday party. survivors include veronica gale—

what he heard isn’t what he sees. tired eyes, bitten nails, hunched shoulders: she may be standing, but she doesn’t seem to be sleeping. she may have survived, but she isn’t exactly thriving.

idly, he wonders whether she would’ve been better off dead. whether it would have been a mercy for the killer to drive the knife in deeper, finish her off.

' they call you a survivor. not a victim. ' there’s no question here. he lapses into a bout of concentrated silence, aligning his pen with the line spacing. when he finally speaks again, he frowns down at the paper as though he were addressing it directly.

It's an... unexpected question, that's for sure. Not in the sense that questions themselves were rare — some notable ones ( "did it hurt?" — fucking obviously, "do you know who did it?" — fucking obviously not, are you stupid- ? ) had their own answers scripted in her mind already, memorized so she could answer them on autopilot ( read: without thinking about them. )

It makes her pause. Eyes cease their darting around the room to zero in on the man in front of her, like she's paying attention for the first time. Her mouth opens wordlessly for a moment as her brain attempts to decipher what that's supposed to mean. While there's no hostility in his tone, there's also no sympathy, just a flat affect that leaves her unsure of what exactly lies behind the question.

Which leaves just the question itself — is that what she feels like? The title of survivor is one that she had no part in applying to herself, a moniker attached by journalists, news reporters, doctors, family members. In a literal sense, it's true, but the word carries associations, in image in the minds of others before they've even met her. Someone strong, an advocate, someone who fought back and beat the odds.

...She doesn't particularly resonate with this depiction.

Conversely, however, the same can be said about the title of victim — the vision of a delicate, broken figure in need of protection comes to mind, someone who could not be farther from Veronica. It's a conundrum, and not one she expected to be pondering at the words of an almost-stranger.

" ...I don't know. Does it matter? " The momentary silence breaks, " I want to forget it happened. " Aiming for a dismissive, flippant tone, what comes out is much more hesitant. Much more uncertain.

Veronica huffed out a wry laugh, not mocking but also not entirely mirthful. " What if it's not about whether or not I've done something illegal? Maybe I just fell on my ass and I'm embarrassed? Or something... "

While her posture — shoulders forward, slumped slightly in the chair, one leg crossed over the other — may have given the impression of relaxation, the way her fingers drummed against her own knee in a frantic rhythm belied the tension dampened by her posture. It's evident that the "or something" was doing some heavy lifting here.

Send me a symbol. Please note that some answers may be NSFW.

          mi-kyung  is  going  to  die  on  this  trip. 

          ❝  uhhhhh.   okay,  cool.  ❞  she  gives  the  other  woman  a  tight - lipped  smile.  apprehension  rapidly  grows,  mold  spreads  across  decrepit  basement  walls.  yet,  she  smiles.  glances  warily  at  veronica’s  old  clunker  where  she  stands  in  front  of  it.  beggars  can’t  be  choosers,  but,  fucking  really?  how  many  hours  is  she  going  to  have  to  spend  inside  this  deathtrap,  stuck  with  some  weird,  alt  chick  she  barely  knows?  does  this  thing  even  have  working  air - conditioning,  or  is  she  going  to  be  cooked  alive  under  the  sweltering  southern  sun  in  a  metal  oven  on  wheels  she  voluntarily  put  herself  inside?

          but  she  can’t  back  out  now.  this  is  too  important to her.  ( plus,  she  already  paid  for  the  carpool. )  so,  mi  suppresses  her  true  feelings  and  nods  along.  crosses  her  arms  as  she  appraises  the  rusted  vehicle  like  a  fine  diamond.  ❝  yeah,  yeah,  cool.  soooo …   ❞  do  i  still  have  time  to  plan  my  epitaph?  ❝  how  long  have  you …   had  the  car?  ❞

Either Veronica doesn't notice the clear apprehension emanating from Mi, or ( more likely ) she doesn't care. It's not like the two are destined to become best friends forever or anything — it just so happened that Mi-Kyung needed a ride to a concert, and a friend of a friend of a friend had recalled that they knew someone who was also going, someone who had their own car.

Speaking of the battered old thing — Veronica gives the worn, practically rusted hood of the boxy Safari an almost affectionate pat. From appearance, it's surprising that it doesn't cave in on that alone.

" Hm? " her attention brought to her soon-to-be passenger, she cocks her head for a moment, large earrings jangling slightly, pondering the question genuinely. " Well, I've had her since I could drive, so about... 6 years? She was my dad's before though, and he got her in '64. " A decade old car, but it showed its age as if it was double that. Still, there's no concern from Veronica that the beater will get them where they need to go, posture relaxed as she leans back against it to address Mi again ( the car makes a dangerous-sounding creak, of course. )

" As much as I'd love to stand around and chat, we should probably, uh, get going. Unless you want me to have to drive through the night? " She pushes forward, earning another groan of protest from the vehicle, and swings the passenger side door open for Mi.

If he wasn't so much visibly stronger than her, she might have started swinging. Alas, fortunately for her, survival instinct kicks in just as her fingers begin to curl, saving her what would absolutely be a painful retaliation.

Instead, she leans back jerkily in response to his proximity, nose wrinkling in disdain.

" Ugh, Put that thing back on, " she groans — not fully being able to hold herself back from expressing her distaste.

change gendered language   &   add context to your needs . happy roleplaying !!  ♡

            a pause.  she crosses her arms across her chest and assesses veronica.  reading body language.  facial expressions.  god,  just looking at her pissed mi-kyung off.  what specifically was it about her overdramatic makeup and tryhard clothes that inspired such vexation?  no — those truths were trivial in the grand scheme of things.  it was that nauseating personality,  utterly hot-headed and as stubborn as a mule.  it’s not mi’s fault the other woman simply can’t handle hearing exactly what she needs to.  

          but,  uncharacteristically, she relents.  a deep sigh escapes from between glossy lips.  ❝  whatever.  ❞  and so,  mi-kyung returns to the more crucial task at hand:  this stupid generator.  for a moment,  the only sound reverberating throughout the rusted school hallway is the purr and clicks of heavy machinery.  the familiar,  mundane task almost distracts her from the lingering aggravation rooted firmly in the back of her mind.  almost. the near-silence doesn’t last long.

          ❝  i’m just saying you should definitely know how not to blow up a generator by now.  like,  if the killer had heard that and come over here to murder us,  it would’ve been your fault.  but,  it’s not that big of a deal,  i guess.  it’s only our well-being on the line.  ❞

There is not a single part of her that truly thought Mi-Kyung would heed her words — she's never done so before, and it was unlikely that she ever would — but Veronica, in what she was internally labeling naivete, had hoped.

Well, this is what she gets for daring to hope in this hellhole.

Mi's feelings towards their forced proximity are far from unrequited. Without fail, seeing Mi's dark mop of hair in the distance makes her shoulders sag — not from relief, but from exhaustion before the other has even opened her mouth. She's just so... mean, in a way that never ceases to raise Veronica's hackles and bring her already volatile anger to the surface. And she's supposed to work together with her, instead of giving her something to really complain about? 

Wisely, Veronica does not tell Mi that the reason her hands had faltered inside of the rumbling machinery was because she'd been daydreaming about the other falling on her ass while today's monster pursued her. Even though it was a really funny image. She doubts Mi would truly appreciate it. She also — barely, mind you — manages to swallow down the bilious aggravation that begins to crawl up her throat. She catches her fingers ( calloused, but usually deft ) as they begin to curl into fists, and where unbeknownst to her Mi attempts to find distraction in the generator before them, Veronica finds inspiration.

She cuts off Mi's passive aggressive drawl with her own condescending hum of assent, uncharacteristically saccharine.

" You know what, you're so right actually, " the words sound about as sincere as Mi's, maybe even less so with how much she's playing it up. " I guess I should just leave it to the expert, then, shouldn't I? " She makes a show of standing, dusting her faded skirt off with a flourish, noting the three and a half chugging pistons that signify how close they are to finally fixing this godforsaken thing. From the other side of the generator, it's unlikely that Mi can see what she's about to do, but she will almost definitely hear it.

Slipping a hand back down to the machinery, she does something she barely ever does on purpose — she takes a part that usually is quite finicky, temperamental even, and yanks.

Sparks fly and a boom sounds as the generator breaks for a second time, a surefire way to alert whoever is hunting them, but Veronica is already jerking back, regaining her balance, and booking it the fuck out of there, but not without a sickly-sweet " Whoops! " thrown Mi's way. If Mi was going to blame her for getting caught, she'd at least make sure it was actually her fault.