deliciouslydebauched - Tumblr blog

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This is the worst thing I’ve ever made

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@inaccurate-fable-quotes I imagined this as Hammer at the end of her patience and Reaver being a little shit

Bonus

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im 90% sure the “my mind is telling me no but my body is telling me yes” jingle played half of the time in the heros mind when dealing with reaver

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The hero observes him, an indecipherable look to his gaze. Unknown to Rei the gears were ticking in his mind, his nature was always to think of the way to pull the most profit from any scenario he found himself in. To kill Rei would provide him the momentary satisfaction of revenge. He had betrayed him after all, abandoned Reaver industries without considering the consequences.

But...he had also been a great source of development for Reaver’s armies. To look back at a time when he had merely used mercenaries for enforcement now seemed laughable. They had never been as effective and they had put dents in his (limitless) gold supplies that he had enjoyed seeing come to a halt. 

Reaver moves up to the other, smoothly and without an inch of hesitation. He reaches up and cups his cheek, stroking it softly with a gloved thumb. He knew Rei wouldn’t bite him. He wasn’t a fool. 

“Free is such a particular word. Alive seems more fitting.”

“I am going to do something very out of character for me so do try to not look too surprised. I am willing to offer you a hand of reconciliation. Come and work for me again, come and reclaim the position you lost. I know you miss it, deep down. The blood...the luxuries... prove to me that the control engravement on your chest isn’t necessary and I shan’t need to use it.”

@vampiric-bite continuation

The marksman doesn’t move from his spot, allowing the furies to advance on him in a circle with their hands on their swords. Reaver revelled in the midst of battle, there was nothing he enjoyed more than the sound of his bullets piercing through skulls and reminding those around him of his skill; however, he enjoyed battles on his terms. So for these beasts to engage him in a fight whilst he was preoccupied with Reistr…it was a discourtesy that would not go unpunished. 

Four furies and one hero. The numbers were against him, but any who knew Reaver were aware this wouldn’t phase him. In sync the creatures leap towards him, their high pitched wails increasing in intensity as they point their blades at his throat. 

“Ladies, please….” 

At the last second he pulls his dragonstomper on them, spinning in a tight circle and sending a shot in the direction of each fighter. The bullets hit each on the neck, tearing their arteries and causing them to stumble to the ground, choking and gagging on their own blood as it fills their throat. He could have been merciful and killed them instantly with a fire to the brain… but as aforementioned they had interrupted his discussion. He raises the rifle and blows on the barrel, that faint smell of gunpowder tingling his senses. There truly was no finer smell. Looking down to them the male smirks. 

“Whilst you are certainly not the first women to throw yourselves in my direction…I’ve always viewed such eagerness as uncomely. It’s nothing personal.”

He strides over to the nearest one and places a foot on her chest, resting an elbow on his knee so he can lean down to peer at the dying fury. He watches her for several seconds before using the gun to put one final bullet through her heart. He turns back to look to Reistr, smiling snidely. 

“Well, it seems dinner has delivered itself onto your doorstep. How lucky for you.”

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Reaver is unphased by how close their two faces linger to one another- he was an individual who had never much respected nor required ‘personal space’. A cat like grin spreads across his thin lips. “I  highly doubt any amount of gold you could offer would compare to my own, your majesty. Do not forget that I also advise your sister on treasury finances.. so I know that crown gold isn’t there for the spending of naughty little princes like yourself. “

He leans back in the seat, an eyebrow arching at the boy’s request. “It seems you have a fine eye for weaponry. Very well, if I lose I will forfeit my Dragonstomper 48. to you. It would be heartbreaking to part with it after the amount of heads I had to blast to complete my 6 piece collection...but, as I’ve mentioned, I have every confidence in winning.” 

“Now for my prize..” He glances to the window momentarily, a hand raising to stroke his lower chin as he thinks. Power and riches were rewards Reaver could easily acquire himself, it would seem a waste to asks something so common from the other. No...it needed to be something only the Prince could offer. Something...unique...invaluable. 

Before he is able to answer the carriage pulls to a halt. Still contemplating he follows Tyke out of the carriage, ignoring his little statement (when Reaver arrived at his locations looking immaculate whilst the common rubble’s feet was covered in forest mud, who was really pathetic?), and gives the carriage driver a stern glance. “Very well, we shall walk the final distance. However, I hope you don’t expect full payment for an incomplete journey? Wait here for our return, and do try not to be murdered...it’s such an inconvenience having to employ new staff after each adventure.”

The hero takes a moment to observe the area before moving over to the Prince, his cane taps softly off of the ground as he strides. It seemed he’d finally thought of a fitting reward. “I’ve made up my mind regarding my prize...if you loose I would like you to attend one of my private society parties.” He lets out a single laugh, “Not to fret, I promise you won’t be in the fighting pits this time, you also won’t be forced to reside to my chambers after with the other guests, although the invitation is always open to royalty.~” Walking up behind him he would place a hand on each of Tyke’s shoulders, moving his head to hover over the left one so he can speak softly into his ear. That was only the tip of his demands, an activity purely to even out with Tyke wanting shooting lessons. No, there was something far greater he craved as his reward. 

“I also wish to receive your mother’s hero amulet. You know which one I speak of, the pretty little trinket she hid away in her burial chamber.”

“I completely understand if you cannot accept. Not everyone possesses enough backbone to take risks.”

@vidjausers-fable

“Dear boy you really ought to lighten up, all of that frowning will give you abhorrent wrinkles. Not everyone is blessed with staying as youthful and vibrant as I after all.” Cursed may be a better word. Oh yes, if there was one thing Reaver adored it was the sound of his own voice. There would certainly never be an awkward silence in his presence. He likely wouldn’t even notice if another didn’t contribute to the conversation. It would only mean more opportunity for him to speak. 

He displays no physical irritation at use of ‘old man’, but it did indeed strike a nerve. Reaver’s appearance was more important to him than anything else. To mock it was a dangerous feat. His head angles, he saw no reason to lie to the prince. Reaver didn’t possess incentive to act the loyal servitor to him as he did the Queen. 

“Well, truth be told I am not here for you. I am here to…serve my own inclinations. Not that it should matter. You have the most skilled marksman in Albion here to protect every hair on your pretty royal head. I know individuals who would kill for such an honour.”

The prince’s offer is highly appealing to him, after all Reaver viewed most things in life as a game. It was always a matter of playing whatever cards necessary to win, even if that card may be cheating, betraying or even murdering. “A game? My, what a tempting offer. I will gladly accept your proposal!- as I have every confidence of winning.” Shooting was second nature to Reaver. It was something no one, not even another hero, would ever be able to compare to him in. His swordsmanship was expert…but there would always be a possibility he could be beaten. But when it came to rifles, he was truly unparalleled. 

He leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. There was an unsettling glimmer playing in his eyes. “However….what is the point of competition without a prize, hm? So tell me, my sweet prince, what are you willing to wager?”

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The marksman may have dealt with more furies than his companion, but this didn’t prevent him from feeling somewhat impressed by the display of how Rei handled his foe. It was fine to admire a vampire’s killing methods for they were of an entirely different style to a heroes....hence there was no need to feel any sense of competition. They were also a tad too messy for him. 

Re-sheathing his rifle he raises a hand to reposition his hat. The article hadn’t been knocked but his vanity wouldn’t allow him to leave the risk of it being slightly askew. “Well, one supposes you could view it as a ‘final meal’ of sorts, given as I’m supposed to kill you now.” 

He says this yet makes no movement towards his gun. It seemed there was something ticking over in his mind. Some sort of scheme no doubt. After a few seconds more he speaks, waving a hand lazily. 

“Yet it seems a waste.”

@vampiric-bite continuation

The marksman doesn’t move from his spot, allowing the furies to advance on him in a circle with their hands on their swords. Reaver revelled in the midst of battle, there was nothing he enjoyed more than the sound of his bullets piercing through skulls and reminding those around him of his skill; however, he enjoyed battles on his terms. So for these beasts to engage him in a fight whilst he was preoccupied with Reistr…it was a discourtesy that would not go unpunished. 

Four furies and one hero. The numbers were against him, but any who knew Reaver were aware this wouldn’t phase him. In sync the creatures leap towards him, their high pitched wails increasing in intensity as they point their blades at his throat. 

“Ladies, please….” 

At the last second he pulls his dragonstomper on them, spinning in a tight circle and sending a shot in the direction of each fighter. The bullets hit each on the neck, tearing their arteries and causing them to stumble to the ground, choking and gagging on their own blood as it fills their throat. He could have been merciful and killed them instantly with a fire to the brain… but as aforementioned they had interrupted his discussion. He raises the rifle and blows on the barrel, that faint smell of gunpowder tingling his senses. There truly was no finer smell. Looking down to them the male smirks. 

“Whilst you are certainly not the first women to throw yourselves in my direction…I’ve always viewed such eagerness as uncomely. It’s nothing personal.”

He strides over to the nearest one and places a foot on her chest, resting an elbow on his knee so he can lean down to peer at the dying fury. He watches her for several seconds before using the gun to put one final bullet through her heart. He turns back to look to Reistr, smiling snidely. 

“Well, it seems dinner has delivered itself onto your doorstep. How lucky for you.”

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it’s not a whore house, it’s a whore HOME

— Reaver (probably)

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Oh whats going on… 

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{Everytime I see this post I reblog it ~w~}

Doodlin g

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Still can’t believe Fable is coming back!!

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@vampiric-bite continuation

The marksman doesn’t move from his spot, allowing the furies to advance on him in a circle with their hands on their swords. Reaver revelled in the midst of battle, there was nothing he enjoyed more than the sound of his bullets piercing through skulls and reminding those around him of his skill; however, he enjoyed battles on his terms. So for these beasts to engage him in a fight whilst he was preoccupied with Reistr...it was a discourtesy that would not go unpunished. 

Four furies and one hero. The numbers were against him, but any who knew Reaver were aware this wouldn’t phase him. In sync the creatures leap towards him, their high pitched wails increasing in intensity as they point their blades at his throat. 

“Ladies, please....” 

At the last second he pulls his dragonstomper on them, spinning in a tight circle and sending a shot in the direction of each fighter. The bullets hit each on the neck, tearing their arteries and causing them to stumble to the ground, choking and gagging on their own blood as it fills their throat. He could have been merciful and killed them instantly with a fire to the brain... but as aforementioned they had interrupted his discussion. He raises the rifle and blows on the barrel, that faint smell of gunpowder tingling his senses. There truly was no finer smell. Looking down to them the male smirks. 

“Whilst you are certainly not the first women to throw yourselves in my direction...I’ve always viewed such eagerness as uncomely. It’s nothing personal.”

He strides over to the nearest one and places a foot on her chest, resting an elbow on his knee so he can lean down to peer at the dying fury. He watches her for several seconds before using the gun to put one final bullet through her heart. He turns back to look to Reistr, smiling snidely. 

“Well, it seems dinner has delivered itself onto your doorstep. How lucky for you.”

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The marksman patiently observes as he pours his liquor of choice, that pleasant expression of beguile reserved only for his king etched on his features. Did Reaver like Logan? That was an impossible riddle to answer. It was well known that the hero held little regard for any but himself. His benefits were always to be priority. Were any of those he charmed, consorted and bartered with anything more than mere chess pieces in his trade? Deep down the king likely knew the answer to this question. 

They served as mutual beneficiaries to one another. A position which both profited and entrapped the troubled monarch. Reaver was certainly not the ideal ally....but to have him as an enemy could prove calamitous.

He rests his hands on top of the cane he holds, fingers interlinking over the handle as he watches Logan pace. No matter how much he disregarded the opinions of any besides himself; it was pleasing to hear Logan speak words which may as well be flowing from his own lips. “I couldn’t agree more,” he states coolly, nodding in agreement. “Those at the lowest levels of a social order are quick to express their opinions on affairs far beyond their comprehension. Where there is power there will always be resistance. Those who could never bear it’s weight are threatened by those who can.” He smiles at the other, a charming expression which, if Logan didn’t know Reaver so well, he would likely think genuine. “I am deeply honoured by the confidence you hold in me, your Highness. I trust you know that I am and will forever remain your loyal servitor.” 

He always knew the right thing to say. After a moment the hero rises from the chair and strides over to stand in front of a large portrait of the former Queen. He gazes up at it with an indifferent gaze. 

“But...back to the subject at hand. I requested this little tête-à-tête as I believe it necessary to reassess the current arrangements regarding worker punishments. The number of public protests continue to rise....it truly is heartbreaking to see. We provide these people with jobs, salaries and a sense of purpose and they repay us with petty resentment. Something must be done to rectify this.”

“Which is why I propose public forms of penalising for the main faces of these displays. I’m not saying executions...although I believe this would prove the most effective, but perhaps a use of pillorys or cages. We must make deterrents before these imprudent displays grow out of control...for as much as it pains me to say, a lack of control in the people reflects as a lack of control from their monarch.”

@righttorule

“As percipient as ever, your majesty. Whilst it is true that a war involves both gain and loss…I do ever so enjoy it when it is the enemy experiencing the latter.”

The marksman shift his position to cross one leg over the other, residing on a chair near the window of the king’s quarters. Despite being the one in servitude, there was a permanent sense of arrogant authority surrounding Reaver. He never seemed phased by the titles of others, a rule which applied equally to the King of Albion. 

A small grin plays on the corners of his lips. “I am a man of resourceful instincts, but you cannot deny that is one of the main reasons you granted me leadership of industry. My profit is the kingdoms profit after all….hmm hmm~“

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Angst Dialogue Prompts

swear-free edition: send one for my muses reaction

“It feels like you’re a million miles away, even though you’re right here.”

“I just think….maybe you shouldn’t be around me.”

“You wanna do that thing where you make everyone hate your guts, cool, but don’t take this out on me.”

“I asked you a question. Answer it. Do you hate me, or not?”

“I’m trying to save you and you won’t even let me!”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Is it really that bad? The idea of having a future with me?”

“Leave, and never come back.”

“I’m going to count to five and if I don’t hear an ‘I’m sorry’ I’m going to punch you square in the jaw.”

“I never cared about you.”

“I have you so much it’s not even funny.”

“You suck, it’s not any better or worse than that. You’re not even that terrible you just suck and I can’t stand being around you.”

“You’re a burden. And I didn’t want to tell you that you are, because I didn’t want to be responsible if you did anything bad after hearing me say it.”

“Come back here, don’t you run away from me.”

“I hate how nice people are to you.”

“It doesn’t mean anything to you.”

“I refuse to be complicit in whatever with breakdown you’re having is.”

“God you are just so selfish.”

“Did you honestly think you were a good person?”

“Help me? Please?”

“Nobody would even miss you, you know.”

“It should have been me.”

“It should have been you.”

“I still love them.”

“You disgust me.”

“You think everything is everyone else’s fault, but it’s not, you’re responsible for your own mess.”

“Get yourself together.”

“Please don’t hurt me again.”

“You hurt me, I hurt you back. Simple.”

“I didn’t mean to do it, I promise. Please, you have to believe me.”

“I miss the old you.”

“Don’t say it, don’t say you love me.”

“I’m moving out, I can’t do this anymore.”

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“Oh Resitr you know perfectly well you were my pet-- but a well treated one. I must say I fail to see the issue. There are children out there who are treated significantly worse than a duchess’s favoured mongrel.” He practically purrs the words, seeming to be having an odd enjoyment from vexing the other. Not that this was a bad thing for Reistr, it had prevented him from being shot up until this point. 

“I must agree with you on the heat of this place however; I am positively scorching in my ensemble. But....fashion requires sacrifice.” Even if that sacrifice was wearing thick genuine furs in a blazing desert. His head tilts curiously as Resitr begins to step backwards, did he think he could make a run for it? The man smirks, opens his mouth to say something probably dripping with mockery, but is halted by the sound of wails emitting from behind him. Oh bother. 

It seemed they’d been discovered by a local group of sand furies. 

With eyes rolling to the heavens he turns his head to glance behind him, clearly not amused. “How rude....can’t you ladies see we are having a private tête-à-tête?”

“It appears our little chat will have to temporarily be halted. Feel free to assist in their murder, or not. I don’t care either way.”

@deliciouslydebauched

Reistr became slightly wary of the other’s laughter, unable to tell if it was a good thing or bad.

"And I assume the reward of having an undead army is power, correct?"

He grew ashamed like a scolded child when Reaver took note of his small den. Unable to find an unoccupied one, he decided to make one himself. The cave wasn’t as large as the ones he’d heard about in his homeland, but it was some shelter.

"Well, yes. Wait why do you care? Was I your personal pet or something?" He scoffed out. "If you’re disappointed in me now, I’m used to living like that. Then again I do kind of miss the chambers.. and the elixir. This place.. it’s too damn hot for my liking." with no animals around he’d been forced to feed off the citizens of the nearest city he could find. Sooner or later the residents would’ve probably found out about him. "Mad? No, I’d call it trying to survive- minus the Dawnguard being around." Rei explained as he started to step backwards towards his den.

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@vidjausers-fable

“Dear boy you really ought to lighten up, all of that frowning will give you abhorrent wrinkles. Not everyone is blessed with staying as youthful and vibrant as I after all.” Cursed may be a better word. Oh yes, if there was one thing Reaver adored it was the sound of his own voice. There would certainly never be an awkward silence in his presence. He likely wouldn’t even notice if another didn’t contribute to the conversation. It would only mean more opportunity for him to speak. 

He displays no physical irritation at use of ‘old man’, but it did indeed strike a nerve. Reaver’s appearance was more important to him than anything else. To mock it was a dangerous feat. His head angles, he saw no reason to lie to the prince. Reaver didn’t possess incentive to act the loyal servitor to him as he did the Queen. 

“Well, truth be told I am not here for you. I am here to...serve my own inclinations. Not that it should matter. You have the most skilled marksman in Albion here to protect every hair on your pretty royal head. I know individuals who would kill for such an honour.”

The prince’s offer is highly appealing to him, after all Reaver viewed most things in life as a game. It was always a matter of playing whatever cards necessary to win, even if that card may be cheating, betraying or even murdering. “A game? My, what a tempting offer. I will gladly accept your proposal!- as I have every confidence of winning.” Shooting was second nature to Reaver. It was something no one, not even another hero, would ever be able to compare to him in. His swordsmanship was expert...but there would always be a possibility he could be beaten. But when it came to rifles, he was truly unparalleled. 

He leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. There was an unsettling glimmer playing in his eyes. “However....what is the point of competition without a prize, hm? So tell me, my sweet prince, what are you willing to wager?”

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The man moves a hand to rest on his cravat, feigning shock. “Yet the people call me fiendish for killing workers who deserve it. It seems we can’t escape injustice, hm hm~” 

Reaver knew the Prince’s opinions on him quite clearly, it seemed the more the prince displayed his loathing the more the marksman revelled in it. It was impossible to tell Reaver’s true feelings towards the other, he had always been one to keep his cards close to his chest. To try and decipher the hero’s thoughts was like trying to count the grains of sand on a beach. In other words, an impossible task. 

One thing was clear however, he held no hesitation about belittling the prince in ways he wouldn’t try with his sister. It was evident in the casual sly comments and toying nature. If Tyke complained to his sister Reaver had every confidence he could remain in her good graces with his skills of artful persuasion.

“But yes- leave the diplomacy to those with the patience for such monotony.” Despite what some may think, Reaver had no desire to adorn the crown. It would limit his current freedom to do what he pleased when he pleased, as well as place him in the position which all fingers are directed towards when something in the kingdom goes wrong. No, he was much better suited to pulling the strings from behind. 

“They do say monarch’s are the slaves of history, after all.”

“I am truly looking forward to this. It’s been too long since my rifle experienced the obliteration of a life. Well— an immortal life.”

Shooting uncooperative factory workers just never provided the high Reaver experienced when shooting a foe who posed an actual threat. He’d been more than happy to oblige when the Queen had requested he accompany her brother on a venture to investigate rumours of odd shadows snatching people on the outskirts of Albion. It seemed likely that the culprits were some of the few crawler henchmen that still roamed the wilderness. It was a trivial pursuit for Reaver, but his hand had been itching for a bit of action. No matter how ‘white-collar’ the immortal claimed to be there was a deep-rooted violent nature in him, reigning from his pirate days, that demanded to be quenched more frequently than was probably healthy. 

Of course he wasn’t a total savage. They were to travel to the location in the height of comfort using one of his private carriages. Heaven forbid Reaver would travel on foot like some common peasant. 

He sits across from the prince, a glass of whiskey cupped in his hand as he swirls the contents around, not spilling a single drop. 

“I must say… it does strike me as odd that you still gallivant off on these little adventures, your highness. Surely you have an array of guards who could do it for you, yet you still choose to wade through the wilderness slaying trolls and other nasties. Perhaps you fear your skills don’t extend beyond brutal slaughter?”

@vidjausers-fable

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@vampiric-bite

The marksman can’t resist laughing at this, shaking his head slightly in a manner of amusement. 

“It appears you know me well. But not well enough, I’m afraid. Torture for the sake of torture isn’t something I partake in. There must be an ultimate reward.” 

His eyes are drawn to what appears like a makeshift den behind of them. It seemed the vampire had been forced to rough it out in the deserts. He was a far distance from Skyrim after all. Without aid he would likely never get back to his homeland. 

“Is this really what you’ve demeaned yourself to?” He can’t resist commenting, “Living in a hut barely befitting a hobbe? I expected better of you Reistr. You gave up the luxurious chambers, endless supply of elixr....for this? I may be doing a charity by shooting you..you’ve surely gone mad.”