#but also the leather work on some of these masks is insane

[coffentyme]

The longer I look at dog masks and ears the more I realize it’s no longer “haha being a dog would be funny” but more of a “oh god I want to be someone’s loyal dog so bad”

[underscorewriting]

stupid bracelet.

König x reader

Warnings: fluff, maybe a little angst

Hope you enjoy! :)

It was amusing to him how such little pieces of thread could calm him down. But they did. And here he was, his fingers mindlessly fidgeting with the thread of a bracelet. A red bracelet to be specific. One he would’ve called „stupid“ not too long ago. But now, could he even call it stupid if it had become a part of him in such a short time?

In the military many men and women had something that reminded them of home, of who they’re here for, who they’re fighting for or want to return home to. Some had photos. Yes, König did also have them, he had his pockets filled with small things that reminded him of her. Others had small stuffed animals laying in their rooms back at the base. And again, König, of course, had them too.

He loved having small things to remind himself of her, to keep himself grounded. His friends also knew better than to touch his stuff, especially the one teddy bear wearing small traditional leather pants holding a gingerbread-heart with a writing on it saying „Ich liebe dich.“, like it was tradition in Austria.

When it came to small reminders of his love at home, he was the one that had everything. Of course his friends thought he was crazy, but he needed those small little things desperately to get him through the day. The one little bracelet that had him fidgeting with whenever he was feeling slightly on the edge, as he was now, was one he got gifted early on in their relationship. He hasn’t taken it off ever since.

This little piece of thread, knotted together with some beads, was the most precious thing he owned.

A small smile tugged at his lips underneath his masks as his mind wandered back to how he even got it.

It was a late tuesday evening when she walked in with a bright grin playing on her lips. „Oh no, what’s going on in your head again, Schatz?“ He couldn’t help but chuckle. „We, my lovely boyfriend, will make some bracelets!“ The excitement in her voice was unmatched by anything he ever heard, he couldn’t say no, but he was tired.

König had just returned from one of the first missions he had ever since they got together and all he wanted was to snuggle down with her, have her in his arms reminding him that he’s not all he is out there in the field. He’s not s psychotic insane killer, not like his opposites think. Yes, he might be a war hero, but so we’re thousands of others. Yes, he was good at his job, but he was only as good as the next one.

He knew that whenever he comes home, that that’s where he’s most important and most needed. „Schatz…“ His voice was draggy, hesitant to tell her that he just wants to sleep.

Sleep all the pain and worry off.

Sleep all the nightmares snd blood off.

Sleep off ever needing to be away from her.

A soft smile replaced the overbearing grin on the girls face. „You’re tired, aren’t you?“ Guilt. It was the first thing he noticed in her voice, the quick change from barely manageable excitement to this unsure sound of guilt in her voice, made his stomach turn. He didn’t want to lie to her though, he also didn’t want to pressure himself into staying awake and possibly snapping at her if everything got too much.

He had the tendencies to do so if he was overly exhausted.

With a simple nod and an apologetic smile he opened his arms slightly, making room for her to lean against his chest. „How about that, ja? You can lean against my chest, make your little bracelets, while I hold you, watch you, maybe get a small nap in…“ His smile turning into a soft grin as the girl climbed into his lap.

She didn’t ask questions, she never did. She knew he wouldn’t ask if he wasn’t really exhausted. That’s who he was, he would do anything for her, even put his own needs aside just to make her happy.

Settling down onto his lap the girl took the thread and beads and placed them next to her, before getting to work. König couldn’t help but admire her more than the show she was watching. Small giggles escaped the girl as she bit her lips in concentration, her mind going god knows where.

She was adorable.

She was perfect.

She just fit right in his arms.

Soon his chin found her shoulder as he rested it against her. „Red bracelet, hm?“ His voice was soft, interested in what she was doing and what her beautiful mind had though of as an outcome.

Nodding she leaned towards him slightly, her nose brushing against his as both of them grinned like giddy lovesick teenagers. „It’s gonna look great and you know it.“ Going back to work he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at her enthusiasm.

Her enthusiasm and optimistic being was what he loved the most about her. It was what he admired the most and needed the most.

An hour passed, the loving couple was still all snuggled up. König was resting his eyes a little, he still held her tightly against himself. With a huff the girl threw the bracelet onto the couch after she was done, her movement waking König up.

A frown was settled on her face and he couldn’t help but reach out to caresses her cheek. „Whats wrong, mein Schatz..?“ He was worried, he hated seeing her upset. Anger and disappointment flashed up in her eyes and she shook her head, her hair falling into her face, making her seem even less at ease than before.

„It looks stupid��� I made a mistake and now it’s all weird!“ König caressed her hip softly as he leaned over to pick up the bracelet. She threaded all the red beads onto the bracelet. „Where did you mess up?“ With a huff the girl pointed to a place where she knotted the thread wrong, it was barely visible under the beads.

A soft chuckle escaped König as he pulled her closer. „I think it looks great, Liebling… you can barely see the Knoten there.“ He turned her chin softly so she was looking at it and pointed to the at the barely visible know that was hidden underneath the beads.

“I see it, and I don’t like it…”

A moment of understanding silence fell between them. He understood her need to be perfect and to make everything the way she wants them to be.

“I see it and I love it, Liebling.”

His voice held a soothing tone, knowing it would help her calm her nervous mind.

“You do?”

“I do…”

With a soft smile and an encouraging nod he underlined his opinion. He loved it. A lot.

“Can I have it?”

A small smile formed on the girls face, excitement returning. Königs heart swelled up at the sight of her bright eyes searching for his. A disbelieving look on the girls face.

“Really?”

A soft chuckle left König as he kissed the spot between her shoulder and her neck while nodding softly. He knew she could get insecure about things she likes doing and the image she has of things and how they should look in her head, so it’s his job, and always will be, to make sure she sees that its perfect even if it doesn’t turn out how she wants it to be.

“Of course, would you please tie it around my wrist?”

With quick movements the girl tied the bracelet around his wrist, making sure it’s secure and wouldn’t fall off the next time he moved his hand. The bracelet was extremely visible on him,, making her unsure if he’ll actually wear it for a longer time.

A soft kiss on her cheek made her squirm but also cleared her mind from the doubt she was feeling.

He’ll wear it. She’s sure of it.

“Who knows, Liebling. Maybe Ghost or Soap will want one too if they see it, ja?”

A soft and quiet giggle made König smile proudly. The image of him threatening the two men just for them to call his girlfriend and ask her about the bracelet she made, was already imprinted into his mind.

Yes, he would even threaten them with his gun up to their head just to hear the excitement in her voice again, because whenever he heard it he felt like he could breath again.

With every small giggle that left her, he felt like his heart beat again.

With every smile or simple look she gave him, he felt like he was alive again.

On days when he felt depressed, couldn’t leave the bed because of all the things he had been through. She was there.

He’d be damned if he wouldn’t try to do everything to make her even the slightest bit happier.

In their quiet and precious moment, the girl turned towards König, straddling his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck, hiding her face between it and his shoulder.

“Don’t lose it, okay…?”

It was a simple question, but the meaning behind it was something so deep that hurt his soul. This was one thing, one worry, he couldn’t take away from her. He hated himself for it.

“I won’t.” His hand caressed hee back softly making sure she knows he’s here.

Making sure she knows he’s going to come back home, like he always has.

“Colonel!”

The voice of one of the recruits snapped him out of his thoughts as he heard their voices all mix together. With a small smile under his mask and a last look down to the bracelet, his eyes softening at the thought of coming home.

“Like I always do…”

[inscrutable-shadow]

Whumptober 2023 Day 6 - Opening Act

@whumptober-archive

Alt Prompt - Lab Rat

In at the wire, amirite? And a form experiment? During Whumptober? Less likely than you'd think! I can't put a readmore in a chat format I am so sorry hopefully the new post shortening feature is sufficient ;-;

I don't feel comfy deciding how much of the Doc's backstory is canon to FCD right now so have a new banner, I guess. They should be about nineteen here, and this is one of their first subjects. Have them being horrifying for a bit lol.

contains: gore, medical experimentation, medical malpractice, lab whump

also available on ao3!

Partial audio recording recovered from raid of former Astra Group research facility. Subject has been identified from accompanying documents as subject 003-CV. [rustling sounds, as if the recording device is being worn around the DOCTOR’s neck. their voice is louder than 003’s because of the resonance.] 003: W-What are you going to do to me? DOCTOR: (brightly) Mm, well, I was thinking, given your broad shoulders and larger than average chest cavity, that you would be an excellent subject for my experiments regarding the integration of a secondary pulmonary system into a living human. I believe I have found a pair that will quite fit you.[sound like velcro pulling and leather stretching] DOCTOR: Ah, take care when you pull at the restraints! They are quite secure. I would not want you to injure yourself. 003: Extra lungs? What do I need extra lungs for? DOCTOR: Just think of the applications! You could hold your breath for twice as long. With some additional modifications, perhaps even breathe in and out at the same time. Much more efficient. Though, well, you are unlikely to do either. I am not arrogant enough to assume that my first attempt at this procedure will be that successful. 003: So I’m going to die? DOCTOR: Like as not, yes.  003: Didn’t you take an oath or something? Do no harm? DOCTOR: Me? Oh, certainly not! Even if I were in the habit of making promises I did not intend to keep, my education was… unorthodox. Not that I truly mind spinning public falsehoods, but life is easier when you keep those to a minimum, I think. [the clinking of metal tools] DOCTOR: Plus, I believe those sorts of ethical quibbles only hold the art of medicine back. To truly drive progress forward, we must be willing to do what was previously held to be impossible. 003: Wait! Er, why are you doing this? Surely there’s some other way to- DOCTOR: Ah, I see. You are working with a faulty premise. I am not some young, idealistic doctor blinded to ethics by their drive to seek the truth. On the contrary, I do this because I love it! [DOCTOR laughs] DOCTOR: Slicing through skin, pulling apart sinew, grinding through bone, I find it all absolutely delightful. Hold still a minute, quick pinch coming… 003: (slurred) What… what’d you give me? DOCTOR: That should numb the pain and prevent you from moving. It is a little experimental thing I have been working on. We shall see if it works, no? 003: Please… no… DOCTOR: Hush, love. The less you talk, the less it will hurt. [slicing sounds. 003 screams.] DOCTOR: (gleefully) Oops. I lied. [more slicing sounds. 003 continues to wail and moan.] DOCTOR: (giggling) Pardon me a moment. Need to… step away to compose myself… Ah, this is incredible! [their voice is muffled, as if pressing a hand over their surgical mask. the laughter’s volume is unchanged.] 003: You’re insane! DOCTOR: (still laughing) Oh, certainly! Glad to see you understand! [more giggles and a few deep breaths, then the slicing sounds resume.] DOCTOR: Oh, this is my favourite part. [the whirring of a bone saw. the DOCTOR hums a folk tune, possibly ‘Daisy Daisy’. 003 screams louder than previously, but is cut off. recording ends.]

taglist: @athenswrites, @i-eat-worlds, @demondamage you seem invested in doc stuff so idk if you want to be tagged? just let me know!

[essayofthoughts]

If Percy spent one year on a fishing boat, what do you think he did for the other four prior to being sprung from jail? How long do you think he spent in certain areas for odd jobs; how long do you think it took him to construct the pepperbox? How long do you think it took him to track down Ripley?

I also forgot to add to the previous ask that I am trying to work out a timeline in my head, as the art book states that almost nothing is known to the public about those five years of Percy’s life.

I already semi-answered this in the first Arc of Ghost Cass, for which I cross-referenced as many canon sources as I could. There's a lot of snippets given throughout the Campaign - hells, we get some specifics in Percy's recounting of events to VM at the start of the Briarwood Arc, and from Taliesin in the Campaign Wrap-Up Talks Machina, and even in a few Q&A's! I know not everyone is as insane as I am about hunting down canon details and cross referencing it all but...

You can do your own research Nonny. Just because "the art book states that almost nothing is known to the public" doesn't mean there's nothing to go on - it means that in the world of Exandria people have little to go on. We have quite a bit!

General thoughts on timeline below the cut.

The Briarwoods attacked five years before the Briarwood Arc. Roughly one year before that, Vox Machina formed, and at some point within the first few months after forming, they found and rescued Percy from a cell. So we have four years to work with, roughly.

From Percy recounting his story to VM in the Briarwood Arc it seems he spent the first two years in a dissociated state because, y'know trauma and grief and shock, and didn't emerge from it until he had the dream of Orthax, at which point he was inspired to make the Pepperbox. It is recounted... somewhere on tumblr, I do not have the link handy right now - that Percy spent some time, as well as on a fishing boat, working as a saddler, which makes sense given he made a leather plague doctor mask, which would require leatherworking skill.

So that fills two years of time, plus however long it took him to accumulate the funds for and properly make the Pepperbox. We know how easy it is for Percy's inventions to go awry and the kind of tinkering checks Matt has Taliesin make, so it may well have taken him six months to a year to draw up plans, get the materials to make it, get the enchantments on the metal, rent time at a forge, make it correctly without fucking up any part of the mechanism, and obtain or make the black powder required, and make the shot himself. He apparently worked on it in kind of a fugue state, so lets go with about three years in before he gets all that done.

I personally think he stalled a bit there, given if I recall correctly, he was hoping to find people associated with the Briarwoods but, notably, was too afraid to go back to Whitestone himself. I imagine him running across Ripley as he did was pure chance. Consequently, I imagine that while he searched and kept an eye and ear out for information, he spent most of a year keeping himself occupied - he needs to pay for food and board after all - until he encountered Ripley again, at which point he went after her.

He tried to attack her, had no luck, didn't even see her face, and was hauled off to Jorenn jail where he was left to rot and die. Given the response of Vex specifically to seeing the prisoner on the pirate boat on the way to Vesrah, comparing him to how they found Percy this causes me to utterly dismiss the comics' version of events here - Vex was there for finding Percy, and Percy was in an extremely bad state by the time they found him. Taliesin himself has said that Percy was near death and thought Vox Machina was a near-death induced fever dream. Given that, he may well have been starving for some time and on minimal water rations.

These are the few anchor points we have. You can work around this to plot events as plausibly as you see fit. Because of the vagueness there's a lot of space to fudge specific dates and that is great for fic - see also me writing Ghost Cass of which a good chunk of the first Arc is all about Percy's time on his own!

[tjodity]

🧸 👽 💄 for chbomb ? :3

🧸 A headcanon about their childhood

Hm. I actually haven't ever thought about that outside of parfait to be honest. Um. I think she probably grew up in fairly normal conditions. by which I mean no fantasy stuff really happened. Her family were pretty conservative but their house was really close to a movie rental so she spent a lot of her childhood watching movies and reading. She left home fairly young and moved to a denser city, but mostly just worked a lot of random jobs and wrote about furries online. She started hopping around SMPs in her mid 20s because she felt deeply trapped by normal day to day life.

👽 A headcanon about a weird quirk of their's

The way she makes fursuits is insane compared to anyone else just because of the variety of conditions she's lived under. In the city she made one that was mostly made of leather and black dyed denim but had aluminium claws and a head that was made from very carefully reproportioned and restitched stuffed-animal heads. It looked like a slasher outfit and she was really sad when no one liked it. A lot of them were made from old blankets and bedding. she also paired leashes with each of them. On the Dream SMP importing is expensive as hell so she's had to make them mostly with wool.

💄 An appearance headcanon

She shaves to prevent a beard but likes having stubble. She wears masks, not as frequently as someone like Dream, but usually just when putting on some kind of performance. She's got one for Manberg, for L'Cast, for the catmaid outfit, etc. The only one that was actually practical was for the Manberg Rebellion so she didn't get caught. She whittles most of them. Otherwise she's pretty good at makeup and she does her own, the rest of the maids, and taught Tommy how to do it when they asked her how (Tommy kind of knew how to do it but they also had a crush and partial gender envy thing going on for H for a while.) Most of her outfits have at least a little bit of practicality. For example, she enchanted the maid dress with mending due to the fact that she has to wear it outside in pretty rough conditions. It also has a thigh strap with some potions of poison.

[amostdelectablescribbler]

WIP Intro: Steel Horses and Hot Irons

As requested by @tea-and-mercury, i am writing up a wip intro for the big ‘un. 32k words deep as of writing this. Sooo:

Genre: Action

Setting: South USA, Arizona-Texas-Nevada area. The Mojave, pretty much.

Tropes: Bigass guns, physics that doesn’t really get addressed, a whole bunch of mental illness (poor Becca), romantic sideplot, big plot twist, secondary antagonist scarier than the primary.

Tag (so i can see it): #STHI (it’s gonna work a bit like a signature for me)

Imma just put the prologue and the character work i did in because it’s just that much easier.

Prologue

5 years ago, 2035, the atom bombs were dropped. First at the USA, then Afghanistan, Russia, China, most of the EU, France shone like a strobe light before the nuclear power stations finished exploding. They all fell in the face of nuclear armageddon. All that was left were craters, rubble and uranium. A few survived and began reclaiming the barren, toxic wasteland. In Utah, there was a lot of this. The Krugers, based in Arizona, were dangerous and silent assassins that disappeared into the night when they left. The Mob, the surviving criminals from the surviving prisons. The lowest of the low and barely organised. The Survivors, who can walk off just about anything and were mostly left alone by everyone else. Wandering bands of close friends also formed, finding work as hired guns.

The Motliest Crew were renowned the best. A group of 5; 3 men, 2 women, all balls-to-the-wall insane. They had no known names, only specialties. The Marksman, Rebecca Johansson “Pew.” A sniper who allegedly never missed a shot, but was very shy, anxious and probably depressed. This is to be confirmed as there are no therapists left in Arizona, or in Alberta, Canada. The Scout, aka, Sorren Clark. “Keep up, $#§/stain.” A speedster with a mouth and a shotgun, one get’s him into trouble, the other get’s him out. Not the most useful combo in Australia, but out in the wastes, invaluable. The Brawler, aka, Claudia Vander. “I’m gonna punch him.” A large frame packed with muscle and grit hailing from South Korea and California. Her fighting skills are near unmatched. 

The Demolitionist, aka, Callum Henderson. “I had a dog and his name was… Bingo!” A drunk, black, tartan-clad Scotsman with a grenade launcher and a rocket launcher. And a claymore, he has a sword too. The Gunman, aka, Rasputin Romanov. “Shoot first, ask question while reloading. Spetsnaz 101.” A man of few words and a Spetsnaz soldier from Russia, with a really heavy accent and a really heavy gun. 

Each of these wandering guns-for-hire wore a face mask or helmet to both obscure their identities and filter the noxious cocktail of chemicals in the air in some places. They were all armoured to various degrees with assorted run-down military kit that had been scavenged. The Gunman was clad in hulking Juggernaut military gear, the Demolitionist in assorted pads and plates, the Scout in Moto leathers and a bulletproof vest, the Brawler wore similar kit to the Scout and the Marksman was in ill-fitting, minimalist spec-ops kit. Minimalist because only a third of what they found came close to fitting her. Each suit was tailor-made (except the Marksman) by it’s wearer, each adding their own personal flourishes and decorative elements, like sketchily-woven tartan, tally marks, oil crayon, the works.

Now, the character work i did (and added):

Rasputin and Becca:

Callum, Sorren and Claudia split up to go and have fun, leaving Becca with Rasputin. They sat in the hotel room, looking at each other quizzically. Becca had curled herself up in a blanket nest across the room from Rasputin’s massive frame that was posted on a bed, leaning into the wall, staring blankly into the space between air molecules. He looked around, registered Becca’s comfort ball, cracked his back and shifted his posture to something more relaxed.

“So.”

“Mm?” Becca mumbled from her nest, poking an anxious head out into the dim light.

“Why are you hiding?” 

Becca paused in thought, eyes darting from Rasputin to the floor, to the roof before finally talking, her own indecision caving to his patience.

“I’m worried.” She whispered into her blankets, “I’m worried about them.”

“Hmm. In Spetsnaz, we had a good cure for worries. We would sit and talk about worry. You want to try?”

“Mhm” she slowly heaved her miniature frame out of the blanket nest and towards Rasputin, who lay down on the bed fully, shuffling along to make space, further dwarfing Becca. She curled up next to him, heart rate going from cardio to moving. Listening to his huge heart slowed down hers, his relaxed body position relaxing hers. There was a security in being so close to something so large, like swimming with a whale.

“So. Why are you worrying, Becca?”

“I- I’m worried for Callum and Sorren and Claudia. I don’t know what might happen to them. Even if I was there with them, I would just slow them down, but I like knowing where they are so that I know they can protect me if they have to.” Rasputin’s huge bald head turned around

“I will tell you this, Becca: I have protected all of them before. I can protect you.”

“There are monsters out there than can hurt them?”

“But none them can hurt me. I am Russian. I am Spetsnaz. Nothing hurt me.” Rasputin’s gravelly, broken English was somehow comforting. 

“Really?”

“Da.”

Callum:

Another cold, dark night came as the red sun plummeted below the horizon. In the town, there was a bar. A man sat alone, at the end of the bar, drinking from a flagon of foamy beer and people-watching and checking his watch, waiting. For something or someone to spur him into action. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

An hour passed and he finished his beer, ordering another from the barkeep. The night crept on fruitlessly for the man. The stream of people coming in and out slowed to a trickle as he waited in the dark bar, wooden flagon in hand, beer getting colder, patience wearing thinner. Finally, one man entered who caught his attention. A tall, burly figure with a tartan kilt and sash over his impressive armour and helmet. The man held himself proud and tall, confident in himself and his abilities, but not arrogant. He walked with a muted swagger as he progressed to the bar and made his order, shifting the claymore on his back to avoid the seat. Some whiskey or other on the rocks. He had an enormously Scottish accent and as he removed his helmet to drink, it was revealed that he wore an eyepatch and had a nasty burn scar plastered on the left side of his face, sprawling under the eyepatch and barely visible in the shadow. 

The man stalked forwards silently, sitting beside the Scotsman without making a single quiet sound. 

“So, is it really you?” The hooded man had a smooth, melodious voice, with a noticeable Mexican accent.

“Who’s really who?” Callum replied, unflapped by a stranger randomly appearing beside him. In the better light, the man saw belts of grenades wrapped around the scot’s waist and bulges from beneath his sash. 

“You. Are you really the famous Callum Henderson? Legendary demolition man for the Motliest Crew?” The stranger’s voice somewhere between admiration and mockery.

“So tha’s what they’re callin’ us. ‘The Motliest Crew.’ ‘Bit demeaning, no?”

“Not at all. I’m a huge fan of yours. I’ve been watching your antics for a while now and i was wondering if I could get an autograph?” The strange man spoke from beneath a hood, eyes glinting red in the gloom, a crocodile grin on his face as he reached i to his poncho and coat,

“Aye, sure. Tell me where tae sign.” Callum turned to get a pen from his pocket and when he turned back around, a tattered, sun-bleached “wanted: dead or alive” poster of him was placed on the dark wooden bar. The wind whistled as the man tapped the ‘dead’ part, “Just here, please.”

“Yer a bounty hunter, eh?”

“I am. One of the best, too. The Wolf of District 13.”

“So, wolf, is this the best yeh have? Vague, indiscernible threats and uncanny looks?” Callum replied, showing no fear of the man beside him, as he downed his scotch, putting a 5€$ bill beneath the glass. The Wolf chuckled for a second, before going dangerously calm, retreating into the dimly lit bar and drawing himself up to his full, enormous height. 

Cybernetics whirred to life from beneath the wolf’s poncho and hood, as his eyes glowed red and a hiss of steam whistled from his elbows. Callum stood, grabbing his sword, “So this is how yeh wannae do this?”

“Yes.” Hissed the wolf, as his mechanical legs grew a third joint, making them look like the legs of a wolf, lean and strong and good for chasing. Callum stood, taking the poster to inspect it. He looked for a while, put it on the bar, signed it, pocketed his pen and walked out of the bar. The Wolf lowered his guard in disbelief, hunching back over to examine the wanted poster. He had circled “Dead” and signed it at the bottom. The wolf finished his beer and sulked off into the night, after paying his tab.

Claudia:

The Wolf of District Seven stalked down the back alleys of the Last City, following the cheering to a dingy looking warehouse with lights and shouts coming from within. Loud, aggressive music blasted from huge speakers, the bass shaking the walls. The Wolf entered the building by walking through the front door guarded by bouncers without being noticed at all. In the centre of the building, a ring had been made, inside of which, there were two fighters. One was a large man with massive arms and cybernetic reinforcements on his elbows and shoulders and he wore brass knuckles on his ham-fists and a metal plate on his jaw. The other fighter -the Brawler- was a smaller woman with broad shoulders and strong, lean arms. Claudia was still tall, but this other fighter was massive, yet her confident stance, and side-guard indicated extreme proficiency in her trade. The large man wore brass knuckles, she wore steel boxing gloves haphazardly manufactured from scrap sheet-metal and cast-iron. 

The man brought a standard boxing guard up and his opponent steadied herself before bouncing on her toes. The large man angled himself to his opponent and swung a huge haymaker which was caught by the woman, pinned to her side and she started slamming him with crushing blows to the liver and ribs. Each blow made a cracking and a clanging as steel smashed bone. With one final powerful uppercut, she released the mans arm and slammed him in the chin, knocking him unconscious before he hit the cold stone floor.

The Wolf came through the crowd without detection or suspicion of a tall, hunched figure in a black poncho and hood hiding the figure’s face. She called into the crowd, “Who’s next? C’mon, dude! It said fight ring on the poster, not warm-up gym!” The Wolf took his chance and approached Claudia, weaving through the crowd, “I will fight you, if nobody else wants to, that is.” The Brawler looked at her new opponent, weighing up the fighting skills of this strange hooded figure, “Bring it, big dude!” she tapped her chin with her glove, taunting the Wolf. “You know, I’m a big fan of you and your crew, Brawler. Before we start, can I please get an autograph?” The Wolf asked, crocodile grin spreading beneath his hood, red eyes catching the light as he withdrew a pen and wanted poster from the folds of his poncho. His metal limbs glinted in the spotlight, clawed steel fingers on full display. He handed her the pen, “Just here please.” He tapped under ‘DEAD’ in ‘Dead or alive.’

Claudia signed the poster in pen before she realised what it was, stepping back as she realised, “Trying to bring in the reward money?”

“Have to make a living somehow. It’s not personal.” The Wolf removed his black poncho to reveal a body made mostly of metal and machine parts. Steam hissed in the shining pistons operating the Wolf’s arms and legs. Guards were raised and it began.

The Wolf dropped low, correctly anticipating a jab to the face, claws grating on the cold stone floor. “Slow.” He cackled with glee, swerving past a knee aimed to the gut and sweeping the supporting leg from below her. “Sloppy.” He taunted from behind Claudia as she got up and readied herself to fight properly. He took the next punch that came for him, a misdirect left hook into an elbow to the chin and a slam to the ribs. Both massive blows made a sickening clunk as metal was slammed together violently. “Weak.” Growled the Wolf, as steam hissed. Before she could process it, the Wolf’s metal fist was an inch before her face, and promptly slamming hard into said face, pushing her backwards. The next blow came before she was done staggering. A monstrously powerful ridgehand to the lower back, snapping the Brawler back up, only to take a huge uppercut to the liver and a sweeping kick to the back of the knee, bringing her down into a spinning back kick. She was out before she hit the floor. The Wolf drew his clawed hand into a stabbing blade, winding up to deliver the killing blow, before the referee stepped in, stopping the fight. “That’s enough. You’ve beaten her, prize ‘s in the pot.” 

“Fine. I’ll take your bribe, but that doesn’t pull her bounty off the board.” The Wolf growled, cursing under his breath as he left the dingy arena. 

and finally, Sorren:

The Wolf of District 13 sat at the end of another bar with another mug of beer. The MotoGP was on the TV, engines roaring through the abused speakers. One man sat watching, he had a beer in his gloved hand and a confidence in his demeanour. “I know you’re there, mate. I’ll get to you when Ducati finish this lap in first.” The Scout waved a hand in the Wolf’s direction, before retreating it and sipping on a gin. The Wolf stared in awe and bitterness at the scout’s arrogance, he had never been dismissed by a target before. Ignored once or twice, acknowledged every time, but never dismissed. This was not going to fly. The Wolf advanced silently towards his quarry, making no sound, red eyes glowing with malice. The Scout waved his hand again, tutting. “No, I said I’ll get to you in a bit. I keep my word. Sit back down, finish your drink, and put the knife away.” 

“And if I don’t?” The Wolf muttered under his breath.

“Them you’ll go down in history as the most boring assassin ever. If you want to kill me, you’ll do it on my schedule.”

“Idiot.” 

“No, you idiot, I’m reckless. The difference being one is being thick as bricks and the other is having no regard for your own safety.”

The Wolf was a very patient killer, he would wait for days for his quarry to show themself, but after 5 minutes with this intolerable little man he had very much lost it. He went in with his knife and went straight for Sorren’s spine. He missed the spinal cord because of the Scout’s impossible reaction speed, but instead his blade was buried in his lumbar. 

“Ouch. Welp, I’m off to die somewhere pretty. See you in hell.” Sorren groaned as he got up from his stool, blade still stuck in his back, and walked out of the bar bleeding everywhere, hopped on his motorbike, and caned it back to the Hotel California deep within the sprawling city.

-end-

Btw i got more wips to do more intros on, since you’re so desicated and insist on reading to the end of these :3

[kumamoto-division]

SOMETIMES GOOD THINGS CAN FALL APART SO THAT BETTER THINGS CAN FALL TOGETHER-Marilyn Monroe

Introduction

Aoba Yamamura also know as guinevere in the rap battles is a librarian and the leader of the kumamoto division strange magic

From a family with a alcoholic mother his father raised him but he died when Aoba was a teenager being the beginnind of a spiral of sadness where he fell deeper into after some bad events that ended with his mind slowly fragmenting,now he's embraced his growing insanity when during the night he provoke chaos with fire and bombs under an alter-ego but he have new conflicts

...Starting with a conflict with his own feelings

Aoba is a young man in is 20s of somewhat tall stature he has blue, tousled hair with bangs and pale yellow eyes with long eyelashes,he also has pale skin ("colder than ice" according Kunio and Natsume) he has a beauty mark next to his mouth and a burn scar in his right eye,and has a slim figure with slight curves and wide hips

Usually in his job as library he wears a tight black dress pants,black peep toe shoes with 4-inch heel,a black casual shirt and a jean jacket with a gold necklace along silver earrings as accessories and black glasses,he use lipgloss in the job too

When is not working in the library usually he dress with a provocative gothic-grunge and a little femenine with ripped jeans,combat boots,heels,fishnet or lace stockings and a leather jacket along accesories

His mainly outfit consist of skinny black jeans and heeled doc.Martens boots,a silky sleeveless grey shirt,he also wear black nail polish and a light purple eyeshadow with the same black glasses

As Bluefire Aoba look like someone going to a masquerade ball with black shorts with lace stockings,a off-shoulder black shirt with bell sleeves and a black longcoat. He wear a long turquoise wig decorated with a white flower hairpin

As Bluefire he usually wear one of two masks. An black lace mask or a black and blue porcelain "half mask" that cover his left eye

Aliases

"bluefire"

The librarian

Living corpse (by Natsume)

Sadako (by Kunio)

Empress,war criminal,the wife of the angel,assasin (in the high school)

Biographical info

Gender-male

Age-21

Birthday-july 24nd

Ethnicity-japanese

Hair color-blue

Eye color-yellow

Height-169 cm/5'7 /173cm/5'8 (in heels)

Weight- 90lbs/40klg

Star sign-leo

Piercing-lobes,tongue

Markings-burn scar in his right eye,old self harm scars in the wrists, tattoo of a triqueta in the palm of his left hand, Tattoo of fallen angel wings all over the back,blue fire tattoo on the abdomen,name on his wrist, burn scars on all the left leg

Family

Father (deceased)

Mother (deceased)

Younger sister

Younger half-brother

Biological daughter-(desceased) (never born)

Voiced by-YOHIO (rapping and singing)

Fun facts

MC name: guinevere

Occupation:librarian

Division:kumamoto

Team: strange magic

Position:leader

Favorite food:chocolate-strawberry cake and katsudon

Least favorite food:garlic

Likes:books,music,butterflies,the moon,the stars, songwritting,nocturnal sky,drink tea,the library,fireworks,astronomy,cold,

Dislikes:heavy loud,sun light,neglected books,coffee,bugs, think on his miscarriage

Hypnosis microphone

Aoba's microphone is a handheld mic that looks like it's made of sapphire with a coiled silver snake

His speakers take the form of stacked books with black and purple covers, when Aoba starts rapping, the books open revealing blue butterflies with a circular speaker on each wing

His rap ability is called bluefire that letting him cover the arena with a mist of dry ice giving his opponents frostbite Aoba just can using his ability once in battle,when he use his abilty he's surrounded for blue fire and his words look like it are made of ice

Personality

Aoba is a person who seems quiet a first glance but no one takes him for shy because he is not he just don't say enything if he don't want despite he always almost have a blank or emotionsless look on the face and speaks with a pleasant clear voice

With the people closer to him (like Kunio and Natsume) he is more expresive and talkative, showing more emotions and teasing people with no fear of make jokes and often saying blasphemies or sarcastic comments showing the fact he have a noticeable viper tongue

As a librarian he is an intelligent and cultured person with great appreciation for knowledge and the books and he dislikes when someone is careless with the books or is loud in the library

Yet underneath all that he has his traumas, starting with the dead of his father,the guilt for having been an accomplice in the revolution planned by his ex-boyfriend during his time in the school, everything he did during the revolution war marked him the last straw for his mental stability was his miscarriage,in fact his terrorist acts are (in part) a way of stay stable even for a moment

As Bluefire Aoba is visibily more unstable and emotionless but also more destructive and maniac showing all his pyromania,Kunio Natsume even Kururi describe him as "unstable and emotionless but only when the place that he set fire down burn on his cold blue fire or explode he looks calm and happy" Aoba is aware that his mind is slowly fragmenting and that sooner or later it will be break so he used the destruction of his fire and explosions for stay stable

His rap themes are things like "feeling lost" Aoba raps about he feel lost in this worl and how he don't understand why he also raps about the "blame", about feels guilty for something and how he knows that the weight of guilt one day be too much form him

And sometimes he raps about his dislike to the "stupid people" who despises knowledge and about his misery for the dead of his father,the lose of his daughter calling himself someone with a "iced-heart" and "colder than ice" or someone "dead in life" he also make references to his state of mind and the concept of "madness" or how he feel his emotions out of control and about the episodes where feel how sanity left him

Background

*coming soon*

Trivia

His burn scar was made by his mother while she was drunk

Aoba don't see anything wrong with the scars on his wrists but covers them in public (with long sleeves jackets or long fingerless gloves)

Aoba attended a perfoming arts school

Once he tried to commit suicide jumping off a bridge but Kunio saved him

He ocasionally accept modeling jobs (which led him to meet others models like Lola Takahashi of saitama or Yeong Hajoon of Meguro)

He likes to tease Natsume calling him "Natsume chan" and sometimes "big sis"

He was the one who gave the idea of singing not just rapping in the DRB to Kunio and Natsume

He calls Kunio "your highness" as a joke

He is called "Sadako" by Kunio because is lastname "Yamamura" is the lastname of Sadako from "the ring"

When he is write a song and feel inspiration for a new song Aoba fully concentrates on it (often forgetful of his surroundings)

He had a relationship with the high-rise bomber Rintaro Himura before his arrest

He's infamous in Japan underground as a terrorist with the name "Bluefire

He's intersex and can get pregnant

He have bipolar disorder

His zippo lighter was a gift from his father before his death

Aoba sometimes suffer auditory hallucinations due his bipolar disorder...and when happens he need set something fire...his the only way of silence the voices

The only person completely aware of Aoba's disorder are his younger siblings, Kururi and Eden

Aoba smokes menthol cigarettes but don't have a preferide mark

[rodod-endro]

So I write ridiculous ghostface smut for funsies, and I just had to share this scene inspired by your amazing artwork (don't worry, it isn't risque)(also also, just in case you're like 'I inspired what???' don't worry again, I wouldn't specify it was your artwork that inspired me unless you were cool with it and wanted me to, in which case it would be my great honor 😌💕)

You don’t realize that you’re lungs are caught somewhere between apprehensive trembling, and desperate, tittering, crackbrained laughter until you hear a set of footsteps above the breathy sound of it, at which point your weird little wiggle dance ceases completely, with you staring wide-eyed and stock still against the beam behind you. Staring at the doorway those unmistakable bootsteps are slowly echoing toward.

It’s that psycho. It has to be. He’s back, just like he promised. And from the sound of his scuffed, lackadaisical gait, he’s more than happy to take his time in coming to say hello.

For whatever reason, that irks you even beyond your underlying fear of him. Like he can’t even be bothered to give a damn about checking in on his hostage, making sure she hasn’t escaped (which, she unfortunately hasn’t, but still).

Bastard…!

Your apprehension gets stuffed away someplace he won’t see it; barbs itself with a heated glare, as every muscle in you tenses while listening to those lazy footsteps draw steadily nearer. 

Though as your cowled, masked phantom finally makes his grand entrance, rounding the corner into the room he’s made your cage, dressed to the nines in all his svelte, sculpted, leather-bound glory, the hatred in your gaze balks, your determination to make him know just how much you hate him with a single look alone fizzling out. Poofed away, at the sight of just what else he’s brought with him. Because the creepy fucker has a black messenger back slung sideways across his tapered torso, the bulk of it sitting heavy against one hip – a bag he very much didn’t have with him the last time he was here to torment you. 

But that’s not exactly the detail that has you rattled, blinking as if to clear your vision, like it evidently needs clearing. 

No, it’s the other thing he’s brought along with him. 

Because the bastard has his mask pulled up just enough to show off pasta-sauced lips, slick and slurping, framed within an angular jawline dotted in the dark scruff of a man who’s missed a few days shaving. And he’s cupping a large, red sneaker up to his face like he’s some sort of ravenous rat-mutant crawled out of the sewer, spooning spaghetti from that sneaker and into his face like it’s a four-course-fucking-meal.

Yeah, that’s right – the dude’s eating spaghetti from a goddamn dirty shoe.

And you knew the guy was insane; he’d have to be, with the shit he’s pulling. But you’re too disturbed to outright laugh at this newest, vibrant declaration of just how fucking off his rocker he really is.

This guy doesn’t just need a prison sentence. He needs a muzzle and a fucking straightjacket.

THIS IS AMAZING!!!

“And he’s cupping a large, red sneaker up to his face like he’s some sort of ravenous rat-mutant crawled out of the sewer, spooning spaghetti from that sneaker and into his face like it’s a four-course-fucking-meal.” Incredible. Just. Increíble.

The fact that you could write an entire scene that makes pasta-eating-danny actually menacing is incredible (and hilarious at the same time), making the rat no-fucks-given man a reality (and writing it, I admire writers because I can’t write for my life and the fact that you went and done it blows my mind) by the narration of his own victim. Truly amazing work and something I will treasure so much 💕💕💕💕

You can make all the inspired content that you like!!! I love it!!!

[creacherkeeper]

FOR CHARACTER DESIGN ASKS. stature, canvas, arms and favorite for bo & scruggs <3333

stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

bo: 6'3 and fat but the more he's at the library he's gaining muscle, especially in his arms. so built more like a strongman at this point. he can't super hide it but he does tend to wear baggy and innocuous clothing because he's Uncomfy in his body

scruggs: 6'9 (orc <3) and he is <3 a bear <3 except opposite of bo he is a big slut about it. tight pants and a leather vest with no shirt is his usual go to because he's insane (they live in the desert he shouldnt be doing that)

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

bo: no piercings. i think bo has a few scars from getting into fights in juvie. and probably his knuckles are getting pretty fucked up by this point (he doesnt? keep them wrapped? which means probably some over the bone abrasions and between knuckle bruising like. always). he has one tattoo (recent!!!) of an open book on his ankle that he did not Want to get but they can use to track each other (his gramma wren chipped them <333)

scruggs: multiple ear piercings! but no facial piercings because he gets hit too much and <3 ouchie. he has 8 tattoos :] shoulder epaulets, thieves' stars, a blink dog "big grin", a cathedral, a spider, a dagger with rose, and a skull. they are :D prison tattoos :D he also has a lot of scars, but the most visible one is a pretty deep gash over his lips

arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?

bo: Technically he owns weapons, being the crossbow and machete he carried at the park, but once he actually conceptualized them as "these are tools they expect me to hurt people with" he stopped carrying them. he just punches people now <3 and has recently started learning some magic attacks

scruggs: he has a greataxe and a handaxe !! he carries the greataxe on his back for safety reasons but the handaxe is on his hip for easy access

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

bo: answered!

scruggs: i think he has a small leather cord bracelet that has five beads on it, one for each of his sisters back home. he doesnt wear it while he's working but he wears it during his time off. just a little piece of home

[cyberp-1-nk]

[ A sorcerer's enemy. || oc-verse. ]

Warnings: Slight violence.

Tags: @insane-horror-movie-addict @cheesefanboy2

A/N: I haven't fully come back yet, but I was practically already finished with this fic and I didn't want it to just...sit. Also, the 'human' mentioned was crp-verse Anni. This was more of a part 1 than anything, and a little bit of an introduction.

Fang stands in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by tall trees that form a natural barrier from the rest of the forest. The moon is shining brightly above, casting a silvery glow over everything in sight. Fang takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, focusing her mind on the magic she is about to cast. As she begins to chant in a low voice, her hands move in a graceful motion, tracing patterns in the air. With each movement, she feels the energy of the moon flowing through him, filling her with its power. She can feel the magic building within him, and she focuses all her concentration on channeling it into her spell.

The moon's light intensifies, illuminating the clearing with a bright, otherworldly glow. Fang's movements become more fluid and precise as she channels the magic of the moon, her mind completely focused on the task at hand. As she completes the final gesture of the spell, she opens her eyes, and a beam of moonlight shoots out from her hands, illuminating the entire clearing. The light dances and shimmers, taking on the form of a beautiful, ethereal creature, a manifestation of Fang's moon magic.

Fang watches in awe as the creature moves gracefully around the clearing, its movements fluid and effortless. She can still feel the magic of the moon coursing through him, and she basks in the glow of the moon's energy, feeling renewed and revitalized. Finally, as the moon begins to set behind the trees, the creature fades away after leaving her clues to find the God she was looking for, and Fang opens her eyes, feeling both physically and spiritually refreshed. The moonlight has faded, and the clearing returns to its natural state, but Fang knows the magic of the moon will stay with her, strengthening her and guiding her on her journey. Her eye catches the sight of the clue left behind by the creature, but before she could grab it, familiar pristine leather-clad boots come into view. Fang grumbled, her eyes trailing up to the man she despised the most.

"Trying to summon the moon deity? Don't you have enough contracts, Vixen?" The youthful pirate captain taunted before tugging his mask completely. The moon's luminous rays reflected off of his skin, his eyes nearly glowing within the darkness of the forest as he stared down at the sorceress.

"What do you want, Smoke?" Fang knows he isn't here for small talk— every time he had come into contact with her, it was because he wanted to strike up some sort of wager or deal. He wasn't the type to make small talk without any sort of strings attached.

"What? Can't talk to my favorite traitor?" Smoke, the notorious pirate known for his cunning and skill with a blade, had once invited Fang to join his hunt— it ended with Fang ultimately working for Nightmare and quite literally stabbing him in the back. It earned her the nickname 'vixen', since she was nothing more than a sly fox. His eyes slightly narrowed at her when he remembered their past. The moon is high in the sky, casting a bright, silvery light over the sea, illuminating Smoke's face and making the metal of his sword gleam.

"We both know you aren't a big fan of small talk." Fang tried not to admire the rare blade he grasped— the weapon he held was truly one of a kind, since it was infused with extremely rare cursed silver. It was one of the only types of silver that were able to kill celestials and she needed to get her hands on it. Her eye trailed away, as she stared out back into the forest.

"Well, you caught me. As much as I'd love to catch up with you, Vixen, I have much more important things to discuss." Smoke smirks as he draws his own sword from its scabbard, the metallic blade shining under the moon's strong rays. The sword seems to glow with an inner light, as though imbued with a magic all its own. "Word goes around that you've been sheltering a human, has the entire realm going mad. The proxy sorceress with the most contracts sheltering a human? Can't look good on your reputation."

"Why does it matter to you? You never cared for reputations anyway—"

"But you do." Smoke interrupts her, "You have a reputation to uphold, especially when you're working for the best of the best. So I'm willing to offer you…a little trade."

"If you're after my Wisp again, then I'll have to decline—"

"I'm not talking about your little pet, Fang. I'm talking about the human you've been protecting." The moon continues to shine down on them, casting a silvery glow over the entire scene, illuminating the fierce determination in Smoke's eyes and the cold fury in Fang's. As the staredown rages on, their weapons continue to gleam and glow under the moon's strong rays, a testament to the power of magic and the indomitable spirit of two fierce enemies locked in an intense gaze. "I'm willing to offer ten thousand souls to fuel your magic, for that little human of yours."

It was an incredible offer, just a single soul alone was worth millions, and he was willing to offer ten thousand— it could make her magic nearly as powerful as a pure blooded Giggler proxy, which was considered one of the most powerful beings in the land. Her eye trailed toward the mischievous pirate, as the fox on her shoulder glared at him, "And if I decline?"

"Then I guess I'll have to take the human by force." As he steps near her, Smoke readies himself for battle, his eyes locked on Fang as she shows off her singular sword. He can feel the tension building between them, a fierce rivalry that has grown over many years of battling on the high seas. With a fierce determination in his eyes, Smoke charges forward, his sword held high, ready to battle Fang. The sword's glow intensifies as he moves, casting a bright light over the forest as he smirks.

Fang glares at Smoke with her singular eye, her large sword raised in challenge. The two enemies circle each other warily, their swords clashing in a shower of sparks as they engage in a fierce battle of skill and wits. The moon continues to shine down on them, casting a silvery glow over the entire scene, illuminating the fierce determination in Smoke's eyes and the cold fury in Fang's. As the battle rages on, the swords continue to gleam and glow under the moon's strong rays, a testament to the power of magic and the indomitable spirit of two fierce enemies locked in battle. He pressed his sword further against hers, trying to break the block she held against him. He only smirked, before finally backing off, sliding his sword back into its trusted scabbard. He pulled his hat over his face, a shadow overcasting over his eyes as his face became nearly unreadable.

"I expect you to be in the Hell-raiser arena at the crack of dawn. No later than tomorrow. And don't even think of running away this time, vixen."

As fast as he appeared, he disappeared into the rays of moonlight that shone down upon the forest— he had already had a contract with the moon deity and therefore his magic ability was incredibly mysterious yet powerful. It was going to be tough fighting him, and Fang frankly didn't know how she was going to devise a plan against him within a span of twenty four hours.

[xxgothchatonxx]

I’m lowkey scared but also excited & a bit Sad. I don’t want this to end, so I’m milking this second to last episode for all it’s worth! I GASPED SO MANY TIMES THIS EPISODE I THOUGHT THIS WAS GONNA BE FUNNY!!!!

The Number of the Beast is 666

* OHHH, The DRAGON!

* OH FUCK IS THAT MOLLY???

* BEDELIA?? OMG I DIDNT KNOW THIS WAS GONNA HAPPEN!

* “What’s he going to take from you [Bedelia]?” Your leg.

* “He’s in no position to eat me now.” She’s so insane.

* God, William you are so dumb & in love & smart but also dumb & in love.

* AT LAST! A STAB OF HUNGER!!!

* BUT DO YOU ACHE FOR HIM?😭😭😭😭

* And who is the lamb WILLIAM? HANNIBAL BASTARD LECTER

* Lamb to Lion Magical Girl Transformation

* Jack likes being God, Hanni.

* SO YOUR EX BOYFRIEND IS THE SACRIFICIAL LAMB, HANNIBAL?

* NOW WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT, FRANCIS??

* FREDICK, THE RETURN OF MY FAVORITE ASSHOLE!!!!

* Oh, he’s MAD MAD!

* & Hanni is just standing there, LOVING IT!

* “But this was quantifiably bitchy!” EXACTLY, FREDICK! GET HIS ASS!

* Fredick is so mad, I love it. There’s so much truth to him!

* & again, Hanni is just there, Having His Fun! This is pure entertainment to him! Cat & mouse, forever they go!

* Hannibal is gonna be someone’s bitch? Fuck no babeyyyy

* OHHHH FREDDIE & HER SHITTY BLOWOUT!

* I loooooove this translation decision!

* Oh no, not the evil shoulder touch!!

* Francis is back in his leather straightjacket, what FUN!

* OH NO NO NO FREDICKKKKKKK

* LMAO HE PUT A PAD ON HIS EYES

* Need some chapstick, love?

* I loooooove the Dragon’s voice so MUCH! Terrifying & everywhere! Clearly in opposition to Hannibal, who is whispers and influences!

* OH HE IS STUCK YUCKYYYYYYYYYYYY

* “Believe me?” BITCH, YOU KNOW THE LINE OF WORK YOU’RE IN! AT LEAST ADMIT TO A HINT OF CURIOSITY!

* All Fredrick does is LIE! (Notice how I spelled his name correctly this time? Wow, what a first!)

* OH FREDICK OMG HE IS TERRIFIED WOWWWWWW I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE THE DAY

* “And does God help you?” “No.”

* REBA COCKBLOCKED HIM OH MY GOD DONT YOU DARE PUT HER LIFE ON THE LINE, DRAGON!!!

* SHE BROUGHT SOUP😭

* GOD I LOVE REBA SO MUCH!! I love her love!

* He’s an artist, Fredick!

* “A SLUG IN THE SUN!” WOWWWWW

* Oh my god. I LOVE YOU, RICHARD!

* Oh, here comes Dr. Chilton into Francis’ little home movie!

* OH NO DONT PUT THE MASK BACK ON! DONT TAKE THE TEETH OUT, NO WHAT THE FUCK???? YOU TOOK HIS LIPS??

* WHAT IS WITH THE PIANO?? OH MY GOD NO WAIT HE’S GONNA GIVE HIM THE LIPS!! He’s gonna have a snackkkkk

* “Where’s the other one?” MONCH!!!! STRAIGHT TO CAMERA MONCHHHH

* Oh, he’s in a great mood, I kinda love it.

* “That would’ve been you lip is was tasting. Again.” YUCK SHUT THE FUCK UP, BASTARD!

* “You publicly discredited Dr. Chilton.” No offense, Alana, but everyone else had probably been wanting to do that for ages, Hannibal just finally beat you all to it!

* “From my own lips,” OH NO HE DID NOTTT NO STOP TURN IT OFFFFFFFFFF

* “We’re not pilgrims, we’re pets!” OH I LIKE THAT!

* There’s no wondering with Will Graham.

* There is, however, always curiosity!

* oh FUCK NOT THE PARTICIPATION CALLBACK TO THE FIRST FUCKING EPISODE OF THE SEASON!

* William is his agency? Hmmm, I’ll bite

* OH MY GOD AN ACTUAL FREDDIE LOUNDS MURDER FOR FREDRICK!!!

* WOAH THIS IS SOME CURLY HAIR WILLIAM RIGHT THERE

* Look, we all know medically, he’s Very Dead. But the idea of having him still be alive post-fall will never not be funny to me.

* OH MY FUCKING GOD NO YOU KIDNAPPED REBAAAAAAA

* What are we doing back at the house? WHY HAVE YOU KIDNAPPED HER?

* STOP TELLING HER TO SHUT UP!

* UUGHHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS BUT HATE THIS I JUST WANT REBA TO BE WELL BUT THAT WONT HAPPEN

I promise, Reba is going to be okay.. well, physically. She is going to live, she'll just need some therapy.

What I love about Fredick in this episode is I piss myself laughing whenever I watch that scene of him and Will discrediting Dolarhyde and Raul's face-acting when Francis is crawling towards him makes me cackle, because I've got a warped sense of humour. But right at the end, despite Fredick being, well, a dick, I do kind of feel bad for him. But the fact he didn't realize he was being used is a testament to just how stupid our boy Fredick is. Side-note, that was REALLY cool makeup!

Adaptation-wise it was a really cool twist because in the book it's Freddy Lounds but because that character's been genderswapped in this show and Bryan didn't want to put his Freddie in that kind of situation, which does have sexual undertones (remember Bryan had a very strict "no rape storylines" policy which is greatly appreciated), he was like "...well let's use our other Fred!"

The fucking *lip slurp* is just comedy gold! "That could've been your lip I was tasting... again" ooohhhh where's Bella when you need her??

But yes... now we come to the ending... *le sigh*

[timeworncalamity]

how bOUT

🍀☕️😨 for Marlowe

🌹 ✏️👖 for Val

🔧💥🤥 for Eli

BITES YOU

EHEHEHEHHE JUST FOR U BESTIE TEE HEE ~ SLAPS U WITH THESE

~Marlowe~

🍀 CLOVER - do they believe in luck? are they lucky?

-Marlowe totally believes in luck! She is literally just such a happy go lucky person and has been through so much before she finally settled down in Downpour that she counts herself as lucky to be here with her friends. 

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favourite drink?

- Oh for sure cold drink. She spends alot of her time out in the sun especially near beaches if she can so she loves cold juice, especially OJ. This girl just has a massive love for orange juice for some reason.

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into “flight” or “fight”?

-Marlowe goes straight into fight mode. She might be small but if threatened or scared she is ready to throw hands. She might look frail but trust me, she can actually throw ppl through walls and lift more than most the men she hangs out with. She is insanely strong. 

~Val~

🌹 ROSE - do they like valentines day? have they been confessed to before? have they confessed to anyone before?

-Val loves Valentine's Day! They are such a lover that they enjoy just getting the people they care about little gifts to make them smile. I…. Idk if it counts as a confession but one year Hunter mistook the holiday for being a day all about Val and spoiled them for it. It wasn’t on Valentine’s Day but Val did confess their feelings to Hunter. 

✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?

- “Uh, ‘cause the world might do me in; It’s alright ‘cause I’m with friends.” - Ghost : Mystery Skulls makes me think of Valentine a lot. Val is a shy and nervous person but because of their friends and through helping Hunter learn how to express himself they have built up their own confidence and become braver. They can really come out of their shell and nothing around them matters if they have their friends. 

👖 JEANS - what is their go-to outfit?

-Val usually wears the nice cozy leather jacket that Hunter got for them. It’s also a custom jacket so it has patches and things that fit Val’s interests and it makes them really happy and means alot. They also wear a soft dark blue shirt with lighter blue pattern and comfy loose capri joggers that dont squish their feather floof too much. Lots of times you will also find Val wearing a full face mask. This mask looks intimidating but its actually just bc they do alot of street painting and the mask ventilates the fumes. 

~Eli~

🔧 WRENCH - are they good at fixing relationships? or do they tend to avoid doing so?

-Absolutely not. Eli is horrible at fixing relationships usually because he just doesn’t care to. He only has like 2 people that he actually cares about and anyone outside of those people he gives zero fucks what they think or how they feel. Now if he hurts someone he actually cares about it will take him a hot minute to get over himself but he will eventually try in his own way to apologize but he’s horrible at it. 

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

-Eli struggles with showing love and happiness. He is filled with so much anger and has so much pain in his heart that he doesn’t let anyone get close to him. He has built up walls and only focuses on his work and has become so addicted to the wrath that he had forgotten what it was to really just take a step back and enjoy things in life. Dude really needs a break and relax, he is so intense and honestly hurting so deep down that he has just…. Forgot how to be happy. 

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they’re lying?

-Eli is an excellent liar. Mostly because he has a resting bitch face, something fierce and his expression hardly ever changes. Eli can lie but honestly he doesn’t really lie often, mostly bc he hardly interacts with people to begin with let alone bother to waste his time spinning a lie for them. The only way you might be able to tell he’s lying is his tail feathers might poof ever so slightly.

[knowntobevexing]

▪️♦️▪️

It all started on the outskirts of Gotham City. Where all the gloomy clouds seemed to gather and linger for days on end. There was a labyrinthine-stone institution tucked away from the rest of civilization, a place where no single organism lived on the grounds except the patients and staff. A home to some of Gotham’s most criminally insane. . .

The 𝐀𝐫𝐤𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐀𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐦.

The place was littered with corruptible staff and unhinged patients with flight risks. One in particular being a homicidal-clown, who outside of here, frequently found himself fighting a superhero dressed up as a bat. (𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘺, 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘺, 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘺) After being thrown in the institute by the Batman, the clown was deemed their most dangerous patient. Who would’ve thought?

(𝘈 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳-𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘢 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘮𝘦!)

𝘿𝙧. 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙌𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙯𝙚𝙡, an intern psychiatrist, (𝘩𝘦𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘮𝘦!) had somehow convinced her superiors to let her treat the clown. Often bending the rules for this particular patient, she quickly found herself all too consumed by her work and time with him. Even away from the asylum, her every thought was centered around him.

▪️♦️▪️

Clowns were once a deep rooted fear of hers growing up, but that fear had ultimately lead to curiosity as an adult. Even more so as a licensed psychiatrist, she knew fear aroused and stimulated the brain, and boy was she a sucker for the things that made her feel so painfully alive. (𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘯? 𝘚𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘩.)

On top of the coulrophobia, she had also witnessed such immense violence from her corrupt father during her childhood. Events that planted the seed of fascination for troubled minds, within her.

What made them tick.

The urges.

The perpetual tug-o-war of the illness itself and the specs of humanity they may or may not still possess.

▪️♦️▪️

It didn’t take long for Dr. Harleen to fall under the spell of the once failed comedian, now, 𝙂𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙢’𝙨 𝘾𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙋𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝘾𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚, aka 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙅𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙧. He had her wrapped around his thick — (𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘒𝘐𝘋𝘋𝘐𝘕! 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘺𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘦𝘴.) He had her wrapped around his tattooed finger, every deeming credential that made her a good psychiatrist disintegrating in the name of love. (𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯)

“𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙜𝙪𝙣.”

He said from behind the tattooed smile that adorned the back of his left hand, his abrupt laughter (𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴) could be heard from wild distances. But it wasn’t the laughter of joy or happiness. It was a condition known as the 𝙥𝙨𝙚𝙪𝙙𝙤𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙗𝙖𝙧 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩. (PBA), which was personified by brief uncontrollable outbursts of crying or laughter, that have nothing to do with the patient's feelings.

“𝙃𝘼! 𝙃𝘼! 𝙃𝘼! 𝙃𝘼!”

▪️♦️▪️

An onslaught was brought to Arkham that condemned day 𝘿𝙧. 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙌𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙯𝙚𝙡 delivered the machine gun. The invasion of Joker’s followers (𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘴) poured into the institution quickly, all of them armed with heavy artillery made it as easy as 1, 2, 3, to rip through the bodies of guards, other patients, windows, walls..

The stench of death and gun powder filling every hallway. Blood splattered along the walls and shards of glass and bullet shells masked the true linoleum floors.

Chaos.

Destruction.

Madness.

All for him..

(𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯’ 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘯)

▪️♦️▪️

𝘿𝙧. 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙌𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙯𝙚𝙡 was betrayed that day. (𝘕𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵.) Though, she didn’t see it that way. Not even as The Joker’s men threw her down and strapped her into the very seat that Arkham used for their electrotherapy.

The Joker’s eyes were two black holes of rage as he stuck the electrode pads to her temples. A tit for a tat, he said, as he placed a leather belt between her pearly white teeth to stop them from breaking upon a chattering impact once the juices hit her brain.

“𝙄’𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙄’𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙡𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙙.” He said.

“𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙩.”

And take it, she did. After-all, she’d rather the pain from him than the pleasure from anybody else. . .

▪️♦️▪️

Swimming in vivid colors and distant memories, the powerful electroshocks altered her brain chemistry that day.

Not only did she willingly escape the asylum with The Joker and his posse, but she even went as far as plunging herself into the same vat of chemicals that disfigured him, just to prove her love for him.

(𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦

𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦

𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘺, "𝙎𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙛𝙖𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚.…")

And like a phoenix rising from its ashes, she rose from the toxic chemicals as Harley fuckin’ Quinn.

▪️♦️▪️

[drhalbeck]

OC posting: The Shapeshifter Special

In todays episode we cover the four shapeshifters in order of creation.

First up: Kera. Roughly 5'10, very short black hair, orange-brown eyes. Normally wearing a uh, what's the word, skintight bodysuit(?) with a sort of gray-blue pattern and half-mask that covers up to the bridge of her nose. She has the most defined background of the 4, being the successful product of an experiment headed by the namesake character of this account: Project Zeus, The Founder's personally funded project to create a shapeshifter. Currently working as KS-1 in The Founder's personal Killsquad. Her shapeshifting manifests as ash gray and pitch black. (Example being: A large black blade with spikes near the base replacing her hand and some of the forearm, with the rest of the arm becoming an ash gray with pronounced veins, also black.)

Dean Xavier, AKA Blacklight. 5'11, medium length black hair, brown eyes. Almost never seen not wearing a black suit. Ability wise, he's effectively a recreation of Alex Mercer. He has little to no background to speak of, other than that he and Kera are siblings. Currently working in The Founder's V.o.W Unit. His shapeshifting is far more versatile compared to his sister's, including control over color.

Visect, or just Vi. 5'9, long blond hair, gray eyes. Wears a white t-shirt, black leather jacket, and black jeans. A far more flesh-based shapeshifter, Teardown's flesh tool replacer mods would be a good example. Created by an unknown and unethical group, for just as unknown reasons. Far less knowledgeable about the whole morals thing, given his upbringing.

And finally, Ette. Same height as Blacklight, with very long straight black hair, almost down to her waist. Gray eyes, same as her younger brother Vi. Her favored outfit is a white coat with flaps down just past her knees, a dark green button up t-shirt, and black jeans. The most versatile and powerful of her peers. Common offensive picks include using strands of her hair as a razor-sharp whips, arm blades, and creating insanely fast blade-ended tendrils to either use as whips or completely shred a target in moments. A more recent addition to her offensive roster is a glaive-like weapon (Monster Hunter World's Bad Wing is a good comparison), with both ends having spikes and axe-like blades.

Thus concludes the Shapeshifter Special, hope you enjoyed my presentation, board members of the abyss :)

[astarions-veins]

Lemme talk abt Silco’s ballgag a sec

Hi, Tumblr. You don’t know me because I haven’t been in a fandom in decades, but this show decided to just go hard and finally clear the hurdle Hannibal almost cleared. So I’m here. And I did look, but didn’t find what’s to follow. I might have missed it, this website is super hard to use, what the-

anywayANYWAY LET’S TALK BALLGAGS SPOILERS FOR ENDING OF ARCANE IG ALSO THIS IS ABOUT BALLGAGS AND SHIT idk i haven’t been on tumblr in years what do we care about 

So.

In this scene, both Caitlyn and Silco have been gagged by (presumably) Jinx. Caitlyn’s is a mask very reminiscent of the one Hannibal Lecter wears. it looks like it could have once been something else even, a shoulderpad or something. Most importantly though, Jinx drew on it. A smilie face, because why not...but it’s *her* mask. And it’s a mask specifically, its default is a closed mouth and it’s designed to disallow opening your jaw. 

Silco’s on the other hand, is not only very clearly something made to suit this purpose, it looks like something *Silco had designed.* It bloody matches his suitiwgfuyefw. It is also a gag, while he already has a long face, his cheeks are even more hollow because his mouth is open. Later, he tries to talk around the gag, and the movement of his cheeks accurately mimics the challenge of speaking when unable to close your mouth. 

This raises many questions. The show went to the trouble to show us that Jinx bothered to decorate Caitlyn’s, but that Silco’s was clearly nothing of her design. This is Silco’s gag. So why does Jinx know about it? Many of us rummaged through our parents’ things as children, and some of us found things we didn’t understand until later. I don’t think the show is implicated so much as baiting a deeper meaning to her knowing about it than that. However it does raise the question of *why Silco has it.*

Either it is a weapon, a means of intimidation, a piece of torture to be used on underlings, spies, hostages, or whatever else the unpleasantries of war bring, Oooooor.....it’s a ballgag because Silco is not only someone who makes valid points about social inequities, sifts through his own trauma to raise his daughter as best he can, and advances the position of the working class by any means....he’s a bit of a kinkster on the side?

When Jinx removes the gag, she does so by reaching only this far. Her hand’s at the back of his neck, though the design at the front clearly implies the same strip of leather connects to either side. Given the absolute lack of mistakes anywhere else in this insane piece of work, that implies an emergency release somewhere just out of view. Silco is many things. Apparently a responsible BDSM partner is one of them???

But before we close out our little discussion about ballgags that I will likely regret later...

Like I said, his mouth’s been held open. This isn’t the most explicit shot of it, Ijust don’t know what I’d get away witheirgreygfer 

Anyway there’s some horny shit i just justified to myself and everyone else

[spideymarvelws]

can you do some technoblade x teen platonic reader headcanons about techno sorta being the reader’s mentor and being one of the only people on the smp who could actually defeat technoblade in a sword fight?

behold... another main character

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To Your Taglist

Warnings : Violence, Death, Some cursing

Word Count : 4.0k

The Blade and The Survivor (1/?)

Technoblade x GN!Platonic!Teen!Reader

You’ve only ever heard the story’s of the famous blood god growing up

Your brother was the first to introduce you to the legend, the legend of a man who never died

Who’s fought battles that no person could ever dream of and walked out victorious every time

The well known anarchist who’s taken down government after government

You were hooked from the very beginning and after every tail he would tell, you would beg your brother to teach you how to fight like him

While your brother wasn’t the best, he knew his way around basic weapons from your grandfather and agreed 

He would bring you out to a nearby plains biome anytime you were free and teach you all he knew

And while it wasn't much, you were grateful for every piece of information and put your all into everything he taught you

He even reenacting some fights from the stories to make it interesting for you

You would always play along, acting as the infamous blade and running around with your brother

Sometimes you would shout “blood for the blood god” while killing cows or chickens

But you refused to kill pigs.

In fact you got a pet one and named it Bladey

For your birthday your brother got you a saddle and you made a carrot on a stick using the crops he stole from the farm so you could ride it across the village

He also gifted you a wooden sword and axe while he wielded stone

for safety of course, he wasn't about to give a child stone tools

Along with a shield that had the banner of your village

But out of every weapon, you were the best with a bow

You had a natural talent for it, every arrow you ever shot always hit its target

Your brother would always ruffle your hair and compare your aim to that of the blade’s, making you beam even brighter

“Who knew we have an archer on our hands, the blade could never compare,”

But all of this was done in secret

The village you lived in was safe, small and homey

Everyone knew one another, so the possibly of someone committing crimes or turning against someone was unlikely

The villagers were peaceful with one another

And with the iron golems patrolling every corner 

you loved to give them poppies from your mother’s garden as a thank you

There was no need to learn to fight when you lived in a place that never needed it

The village ran on balance, equality amongst each person so that everyone could be amongst one another in peace

Plus, at the time you were the youngest in the village, considered a baby by everyone

And while you had the kindness and curiosity to match it, there was always something missing

Training was the only thing that fulfilled it

Your brother thought that your practises would disrupt that balance so he never told anyone about your activities

And that stayed true until your last night in the village 

You, your brother and bladey were making your way back to the village after a long day of training when you noticed thick, black smoke rising from where it stood

You both started walking carefully to the area, you walking behind your brother with the pig in your arms for comfort

In the distance, you noted the shadow of pillagers and iron ore scattered across the grounds

You went to scream as you got close and run to your house, but your brother slapped his hand over your mouth and pulled you with him behind a nearby tree

But one of the pillagers heard the noise of leaves rustling and began to approach the both of you.

Your brother was quick to take out his sword, pushing you behind him 

“Listen to me Y/n, I want you to run okay? Run and never stop until you know you’re safe okay?”

You shook your head, “What about you? What about our parents?”

He smiled sadly, shakily ruffling your hair, “I’ll be right behind you... Now go!”

The sound of swords clashing and the screams of your brother were the last things you heard  as you ran, tears falling from your face 

Bladey squealed in your arms, wiggling and turning to get out of them, sensing the danger but you kept your grip tight, following your brother’s orders and running as far as pos sible

Needless to say he didn’t follow, neither did the rest of the village that was left in ashes and ruins after the attack

You couldn't find the heart to turn back, to fight along side your brother

You fled like a coward. Guilt, pain and hatred riding on your back 

But you didn't give up hope, plotting revenge against the mobs who destroyed your home

Who killed your family

You walked for days, stopping at villages, trading with them and improving your supplies

And getting a lot of carrots

Your wooden swords turned into iron, along with the rest of your tools

Your leather helmet turned into a full set of iron armor 

But you kept your old shield, repairing it every time it lost durability

You even crafted a crossbow that you learned was the main weapon pillagers used

You dreamed of pointing it at there neck, watching the sharp arrowhead puncture their skin and bleed out on the floor

You tended to sleep through the day and fight threw the night, taking out your anger on the mobs that spawned around the wood houses you made to keep yourself warm and isolated

Times when you weren't fighting and training, you spent in the library of any village you found, learning about anything you could

It was there you learnt about the rare ore diamonds, hidden deep in caves 

You also learned about enchantments, that made your armor and weapons even stronger

Soon enough you were geared up with full diamond armor and a set of diamond tools 

But it was never enough, you always needed more 

So you went to nether after repairing a ruined portal you came across

And began exploring

Gathered potions

All the materials you could find

Along with netherite

And fighting every mob you happened to pass by except piglins

For such a young age, you were stacked, maxed out to the point of boredom that you couldn't go further

Even Bladey had his own turtle shell, adjusted slightly to fit his head and allow him sight

You often wondered if this was what it was like to feel like technoblade

And throughout your journeys, you kept the stories your brother told you by heart, learning as much as you could about The Blade

You followed in his footsteps, using his successes as even more motivation to continue on your quest

And ready to finally get your revenge

It was easy to take down the pillage post, taking the banner and making your own shield that you kept as a trophy in your inventory as a reminder of what you lost

But it wasn’t enough, the loss of your family laid heavy and your heart

So you started protecting the villages you visited in exchange for lower prices in trades

You believed that was your purpose now, you had nothing else to do but fight for the people who couldn't fight for themselves

You wanted to help in ways that you couldn't all those years ago

You would wear a black cloak over your armor, the hood covering your head and a mask concealing your face

You couldn't imagine wearing a skull mask, even if it was for the aesthetic

You looked like death itself

Death with a cute pig side kick

Soon enough, word got around of a teenage warrior roaming the lands labelled ‘The Survivor’, catching the attention of Wilbur and Tommy who had just been exiled from L’manburg

“Why would we need them if we already have techno on our side?”

“Because we need all the allies we could get Tommy, plus we don’t want Shlatt to get to them first.”

You would be passing by Pogtopia on your horse with Bladey tucked into you lap sleeping, following a map to another village that needed help when a tall man stepped in front of your path, making you halt

“Why hello there, Survivor, care for a little chat?” he said ominously, leaning against your horse

You payed no mind to him, hitting his hand of your horse, rolling your eyes and moving around him

You’ve meet people like him on your travels before, people who only needed you for your skills and selfish reasons

At least, that how he came off and you didn’t care to stay and find out if your assumptions were true

“Hey, hey, hey, look, I’m sorry if I came off so forward but- I need your help,”

That made you stop.

“Need help with what exactly?”

He went on to explain his situation about a place called L’Manburg, an evil dictator named Jshlatt and his exile along with someone named TommyInnit

At first you said no.

You were only interest in keeping your own kind safe, protected people who needed it

And from the looks of it, it seemed that the two men put themselves in there position so they should be the one to take themselves out

That and you had more pressing matters to attend to than government

“What do you need? What would you want in return?” he started to beg, walking along side your horse as you started to ride away

“I already have all I need,” you croaked

“Well that seems boring. Don’t you want a bit of adventure in your life Survivor? A little bit of flavour to spice up it up? It must be so boring just fighting the same thing over and over again, why not work for a group? A collective?”

You grew tired of his voice, letting out a deep breath you began to consider his words

As much as you didn’t want to admit, he was right

You had been travelling around the lands, going insane, doing the same thing over and over

And while it helped people, it was growing tiring

Maybe one war wouldn’t be so bad, and perhaps you would learn some new stuff along the way

And the alliance with this so called L’manburg would be good for the long run

“If I agree... would you shut up?” you finally cut off his rambling and stopping your horse

He blinked in surprise, “Wow! If i had known talking would make you cave in, I would've brought up Tommy instead.”

You sighed, “I’ll help you okay? As long as I get free access to L’manburg afterwards along with all the supplies i need,”

“Done, done and done.”

The first day wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be

Wilbur was actually pretty chill, letting you make a new home out of the ravine they stayed in

Niki was also really kind, bringing sweet treats from Manburg every time she visited

It was nice to settle for a while, you couldn't remember the last time you slept under the same roof for more that a day

Your horse, Jewel along with Bladey seemed to settle well along with you

You also met Tubbo and Tommy, a lively duo that overwhelmed you at first but there energy was nice to see in such a grey environment

What you didn’t expect was to meet him

You would be mining a small space in the ravine for yourself and your pets when you heard a monotone voice sound from behind you

“Heh?! Who’s the kid?” 

You spun around, raising your sword to the intruder but froze when you noticed the familiar skull mask, along with pointy piglin ears hidden behind bright pink hair 

He didn’t seem fazed by your weapon, leaning against the stone door frame with his arms crossed

“You’re- you’re him.” you muttered in awe

Before he could respond, Wilbur popped out from behind him, “Oh, yeah. That’s Y/n, Y/n, Techno. Techno, Y/n,” he nudged his side, “They’ll be helping us take back L’manburg,”

Techno only nodded, “Nice.” he tilted his head, “Aren’t you that Survivor dude? That’s pretty pog.”

Cut to you standing frozen in place, jaw dropped to the floor, eyes wide in amazement

“You- you know who I am?” you squeaked, quickly sticking your sword in the ground and leaning against the handle, stumbling slightly

An attempt to seem cool in front of your idol

An attempt that didn't really work out

He let out a hum, “Heard the name from around yeah,” he pointed to your sword, “Might not want to stab your sword in stone, It’s not that affective.”

And with that he left

Leaving you in shock

If only your brother could see you now

After that interaction, you started to follow him around like a lost puppy, watching in awe at every little thing he did

You felt like a kid again, the warmth in your chest that you lost so long ago restored because the person who tied you and your brother together was here

Because you were training and fighting along side your childhood hero

He would act annoyed at first, always shrugging you off or moving to other rooms to avoid you

You were like a parasite 

He could never shake you off

He didn’t want to grow close to anyone, he was here to take down yet another corrupt government not to look after some orphan

That was Phil’s thing.

But after time he grew a liking to you, enjoying your presence while he was farming potatoes or visiting his cow farm

You acted different around him, the hard and emotionless exterior you showed to Tommy and Wilbur completely vanished and left an innocent, happy child

He always wondered why 

People never did that with him

He was a feared name across the lands of the smp, everyone usually kept there distance and became extremely cautious in his presence

But you didn’t seem to get scared, in fact, you were a talker, constantly asking question after question even if he gave no response

It was nice not to be alone after so long even though he would never admit it 

Even the voices started to take a liking to your bubbly and curious personality

Why is she asking the same question

Maybe you should answer her blood god

She seems nice

You really do take after your father

He saw a part of himself in you

Unlike Tommy and Wilbur, you weren’t fighting for government, you were fighting because you had nothing else to do

Because you were bored with your everyday life being, essentially, an assassin 

The thought always made him chuckle

He left like he could trust you over them because your weren't driven under a government

At least that’s what he told himself

He also wanted to see why they valued your alliance so much to give up half there riches to you from L’manburg

“Duel with me.” he said to you one day, out of the blue as you both made your way across a plain biome looking to animals to kill for food

“Heh?” you said under your breath, clearing your throat while heat rose your your face at his suggestion and the noise of surprise that escaped your mouth

Techno couldn't deny that his heart warmed just a little at the small things you began to pick up from him

“Fight with me,” he drew out his sword, turning around and facing you with the weapon raised in the air, “I wanna see what you’re made of ‘Survivor’. So come on, lets fight,”

This was the first time techno actually talked to you directly, uttered words other that demands, silly excuses or grunts of acknowledgement

“I-” you let out a deep breath, shakily taking out your own sword, “Okay, okay,”

After establishing some rules, the duel began.

He let you take the first hit, barely dealing him damage but you got the second hit as well, knocking him down two hearts

He was quick to regain himself, taking three hearts with his sword and a free hit with his bow

That gave you the idea to take out your own, running a good distance away and getting three shots in

It was a close fight, you didn’t mind if you lost. Fighting Technoblade was already an honour as it was

Then you jumped of a piece of stone, landing a crit and watched his items fall to the floor

Technoblade was slain by Y/n 

You let out a short breath, eyes widening in shock that you had just won

You just killed Technoblade

“I was only going easy on you- I- What enchantment do you have on your sword? You have creative mode don’t you? Yeah, you have creative mode... there’s just no way-”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your laughs as the blood god ran over to pick up his items with a red face

“Hey! Hey don’t laugh! This isn’t a laughing matter!”

“It- it kind of is.” you said shyly, putting away your sword and eating some steak to regain the health you lost, “If it makes you feel better, I had one heart...”

“oNe hEaRt! She had one heart chat! What is this-”

His words had you rolling on the floor, wiping your eyes of the tears falling from your at how hard you were laughing

“What- What do I have to do for you to keep this between us-” he whispered after you calmed, looking around the the space, making sure it was just you and him

You shrugged, “Nothing really- I- uh, i didn’t mean to kill you... I’m sorry-”

Sorry? Who the fuck says sorry for killing someone

Who says sorry for killing him?

If anything you should be gloating, getting a billbourd and displaying the chat message for everyone to see

He’s never been gladder that nobody else was connected to the chat at the time

“I was going easy on you.”

“I- sure, sure okay...” you thought about it for a second, “If so... then why don’t you teach me the things you didn’t try? Like techniques and stuff...”

He froze at your suggestion, “You want- you want to learn from me?”

“Yeah!” you beamed, “You were... a big inspiration for me growing up and, I would love to learn from the source and not just through tails and stories.”

He thought about it for a bit, usually he would rely on his voices but they were all just insulting him

He didn’t see the harm in it, out of all the children on the SMP, he tolerated you the most

That and you had potential, it was rare to find someone with such skills and who acted humble with them

He sighed, patting the top of your head with a huff, “Sure... Sure why not.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah sure, I mean what’s the harm in it right?” he ruffled your hair

The action made your eyebrows rise and when you looked back up at the piglin hybrid, all you saw was the smile of your brother looking down at you

“Hey, everything alright?” he questioned, noticing your sudden glossy eyes

You quickly rubbed them with your knuckles, “Yeah, yeah I- I just forgot something at Pogtopia,” you said, backing away with an embarrassed smile, “I’ll meet you back there,”

“Sure, sure... I’ll just continue hunting,”

As you ran away he let out a deep breath, taking out swords and looking down at it with a scoff

“Chat... we never speak of this... again.”

After that, the both of you were inseparable 

Going on adventures with each other, looting and exploring together

Where ever he went, you followed in his footsteps as he taught you about whatever he could

He even took you to his secret base and allowed you to help him in gathering supplies to help the fight

“What’s with the pig by the way?”

“It’s my emotional support pig.”

“And his name is bladey?”

“...”

“It’s a short for bladder...now what were you saying about poisoned arrows?”

And while you appreciated the action, your favourite times where the calm ones

When he would take you up to a hight tower or hill so the both of your could relax, maybe eat some mushroom stew as he told you stories of his own adventures 

You opened up to him as well, telling him about your family and your village, how you were travelling around with so sense of direction

It was strange how easily he trusted you, maybe it was because you had similar experiences as him

You understood him and he understood you

You also began to make good friends with the rest of Pogtopia along with everyone else who started to betray shlatt and join there side, becoming more open with the reassurance from Techno that they weren’t bad people

You fit in well, a lot more that he did

You had potential for a bloodless life, he saw that

He didn’t want you to make the same mistakes as him, he didn’t want you to live the same isolated life

And while you agreed with his thoughts on anarchy, he didn’t want to you to have any part in what he was doing.

So when L’Manburg was taken back and Tubbo was but in power, he felt a sense of dread opening his enderchest and taking out his six wither skulls

Don’t let the wither’s hurt them

You’re going to hurt them more that they are

You won’t be able to protect

Protect them at all costs

It wasn’t just the voices that felt the urge to keep you safe

Over the months he’s grown a liking to you, treating you like his own student and teaching you the things he wish he knew at your age

But he could also be the one to corrupt you.

And he didn’t have the heart to find out which way it would go

You caught sight of the skulls in his hands before he switched to his sword, a hard look on his face as everyone began fighting each other

“Techno?” you walked up to him, “Are you-”

“Yeah... yeah I am.” he puffed out his chest, pulling you the side, “Look, things are about to get messy and when they do I want you to run-”

You knew where this was going, flashbacks of your brother fighting one of the pillagers to save you as you ran away to safe yourself, sacrificing himself for you

“No.” you cut him off before he could continue.

While you knew Techno was going to come out of this alive, you had the power to help him now, to help everyone, you didn’t need to run anymore

You considered Techno family now, well the closest thing you had to it and you weren't about to loose that

Not again.

“I’m staying with you Tech,”

He shook his head, “If you do, L’manburg would never look at you the same, you’ll be an outcast once again-”

“Then do what you have to do, but I’m not running away. What happens here is because of everyone’s belief and I believe in safety and protection so that is what I’ll provide.” you took out your sword smirking, “Plus, we all know what happened last time when you tried to fight me,”

“I thought you promised to never speak of this again!”

“I’m sorry I had to-”

“Okay kid, okay...” he took a deep breath, “Just stay clear of dream and his crew... and the withers... Actually? here take some golden apples-”

“Just go be an anarchist Techno,” you pushed him forwards, rolling your eyes, “I’ll be fine.”

“Actually, take this God apple and a few more potions-”

“I already have some-”

“Well take more. And some extra armor... just in case-” he threw the items at you before running away and setting up the soul sand, not wanting anyone to catch on to what he was doing

And with one final look around following the conclusion of his speech, he placed the skulls, unleashing ultimate chaos on the land once called L’manburg

...

Sorry this took so long! I always get ahead of myself with requests and end up writing a lot more that planned but i hope you enjoyed! I was making this so long that I had to spit this into part two, maybe part three to cover the rest of the lore and to be able to develop more on their relationship besides backstory

That and i really want to write the execution scene but this was already 4k words... 

Feedback always appreciated🥰