#c: razor

[knockknockitsnickels]

"Sacrifice the Yourself" (title pending), the hip new slay the princess swap AU, in which you and the girlies must decide if you're gonna let a giant bird stab you (and maybe.... find love?!)

[sarceansurvivor]

prepare to be sick of me

[rockyteriyaki]

okay SO my beloved ezra @hellohallowedhalo inquired after my tags on this post, which made me realize that my FIRST EVER F1 FIC is almost an entire year old (??????) and THEN i read THIS MASTERPIECE by @fast-burn and it set off a nuclear bomb inside my head...so i wrote a free-use-ish factory followup to RSWT. thank you all for one year of freaky derangement <3333 ily

Daniel leaves Red Bull as a driver and becomes—he doesn’t even know what to call it. In his contract, it says ambassador. On suspended Twitter accounts, they call him a blood bank.

Max doesn’t know about that part, because Max doesn’t have Twitter, and even if he did he wouldn’t be term-searching his own name with asterisks in the vowel places like a nutter. Daniel’s people tell him soothingly to block and report, if he insists on being on social media in the first place, and Daniel does–he reports. He doesn’t block. Sometimes, he screenshots.

It had been a leap, obviously, to go from–from a driver, incidentally bound to the whole blood thing, to then this: a full-time gig. A singular purpose. They’d gone over the language of the contract in more detail than Daniel thought was possible, rewording and reworking every point until it maybe resembled something that seemed less obviously like exploitation, but even after it was all printed out with the little RBR letterhead, it felt swampy in ways nobody could explain or do away with.

Still, when Daniel put pen to paper, it was with life-ruining clarity. I want this, I want this, I want this.

“Ah, here you are,” Max says, knocking on the glass wall of one of the conference rooms in the factory. He cups his hands against the pane, like a kid against a department store display. “Are you hiding, Daniel?”

“Nah,” Daniel says. He hasn’t been, actually; he just wanted someone to find him. He puts his phone down as Max pulls the door open. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Max says, and it’s so uncomplicated Daniel doesn’t feel the need to even ask a followup, which is what he likes–loves, even–about Max. Daniel crowds him in the doorway, leans on him.

“You need it?” Daniel whispers.

“Yes,” Max says. “Please. I have, already–they have everything they need, so. We can go now, if we are back before the hour.”

Daniel reaches behind Max, pulls the door closed. It pushes Max into him a little, feet falling forward. Max blinks.

“Why not here?” Daniel says. He stretches his neck out, which he knows is a dirty move, but it works; Max’s nostrils flare. His eyes dart to the glass wall, the big transparent window that looks out onto the floor where dozens of people in navy polos are working to make sure Max can deliver them to glory next year.

Well, Daniel is one of those people, technically, now. Working.

He steps back towards the conference table, a dark fake-oak thing that’s big enough to fit the shareholders and their massive egos all side-by-side. Max follows. The number of times they’ve done this and it hasn’t ended in one or both of them coming can be counted on one hand. Max knows this, and Max is following, with a blinding willingness reminiscent only of Daniel’s own desire to get Max’s fangs on him, in him, since the first time he saw that glossy pink shine over them.

“I was just thinking about my contract,” Daniel says, as casually as he can manage, which is probably not at all. He scoots onto the table, kicks the rolling office chairs out to carve a gap. “You can, y’know.” Max nods fervently, even though Daniel isn’t making any sense. “Like, anywhere? If you wanted.”

He can pinpoint the exact moment the images parade into Max’s mind. Daniel in meeting rooms, instead of bathrooms and backseats. Daniel on his lap. Daniel over dinner, only one plate between the two of them because–because he’s Max’s—

Max sinks down to his knees, cradles his head in Daniel’s thighs. It takes Daniel a moment to pinpoint the feeling through the denim of his jeans, but the saliva gives it away–Max is rubbing his gums over the seams. The hooked points of his fangs snag and retreat on the fabric.

“Hey,” Daniel says, on a shaky exhale. “Is that good teeth? Or, like, bad-idea-Daniel teeth?”

“If I don’t, I will bite you here.” Max gestures miserably to the glass wall. “And then, probably against the window too.”

There are people walking past now, and Daniel can see them look inside only long enough to register who’s who, and then avert their eyes. Daniel’s laughs turn into moans. He can’t help it. Max laughs too.

“Go on then,” he tells Max. “They don’t pay me enough to keep secrets.”

[wysteriaisapenguin]

Everyone just so you know. When I type :3c, I do this

[jackalsraised]

Sebastian Stan. in a bathtub, which is all I actually got out of this movie.

[razorfartz]

nghhmmg butch venture . .

[mysdrymmumbles]

Got an appointment to see why my thumb is going numb (i know why, i crushed it between two crates a couple weeks back).

[dragimalsdaydreams]

[image ID: two images of Razor from the game Genshin Impact.

the first image is a screencap of Razor's in-game model from the back. he's wearing a dull grey/brown leather coat with a bunch of red/brown leather belts hanging down the length of it. his hood is up, but his long, messy grey hair is streaming out from a slit in the back of the hood. this hair is split down the middle, streaming to either side of his spine to show the Electro Vision centered on the lower back of the coat. the sleeves of the coat are torn off, showing his bare pale arms, and orange leather gloves. he's wearing poofy green pants, and black/grey leather boots.

the second image is a cartoony drawing of Razor from the back, standing more hunched and looking slightly over his shoulder. his hair has been cut short and no longer sticks out from the back of the hood. the extraneous leather belts have been removed from the coat, with more visible, geometric patterning in its place. a rope hangs across the lower back of the coat, below the Vision. a few small, dead animals (a rabbit, a couple ferrets) hang from this rope, with text reading, "small game gives the vague impression of a wolf tail". Razor's boots have been removed, leaving bare feet and lower legs messily wrapped in white wrappings, and covered in dirt. nearby text reads, " you cannot convince me they wrestled this boy into boots".

end ID]

back again with another redraw instead of a screencap edit! though I did honestly attempt the edit before I gave up (Razor's hair covers up too much, it woulda been annoying to redraw it all..)

also, it's just the back view b/c I don't have much problem with the front of his design. and since Razor is one of my faves and mains, I'm intimately familiar with the back of his design, considering how often I have to stare at it..

more design notes under the cut~

more than anything else, I just hate Razor's hair. usually I'm all for male characters with long hair, but Hoyo just fucked up Razor's so bad. which is insane cus' a wolf tail shape feels so obvious, for a kid literally raised by wolves. I would've even forgiven the stupid hood slit for that-- sure, Hoyo could've just put the hood down for Razor's hair, but I like the hood up, so whatever. but Hoyo just had to split the hair in half, ruining the potential tail shape. and it's clear that they split the hair so that the Vision on the coat is visible, but the obvious solution there should be to just... put the Vision somewhere fucking else. like, the Vision could have been literally anywhere else, good god

either way, I just decided to cut off the hair, cus' I had a better idea for a "faux tail" anyways. I know dead animals are prolly too morbid for Genshin designs, but it definitely fits my feral vision of Razor <3

finally, evidence that I did genuinely attempt the model edit, before I decided, "oh, fuck this"

[image ID: the same back-view screencap of Razor's in-game model from earlier, but centered on his torso region. much of his grey hair has been manually blocked out using the purple background color. the parts of his back/arms that the hair covered have been roughly drawn back in as a messy sketch. end ID]

[unnonexistence]

playing the social game at office job already exhausting, witnesses report

[philhoffman]

Philip Seymour Hoffman, Julianne Moore, and John C. Reilly at the 71st Annual National Board of Review Awards in NYC, January 18, 2000

[fuzzbuns]

No one asked for my thoughts on imaginarium theater but im giving them anyway.

I find it so weird how ppl have been begging for end game content outside of the abyss for 3 years now but when mhy releases a game mode that:

-incentives you to build more characters outside of ur main 2 teams for spiral abyss

- restricts u in a way that challenges u to use teams that are outside the meta

- makes it so you are forced to think strategically about who you use and when and work with what you are given

Instead of seeing it as a fun new challenge to work through they just complain that its? Too hard…?

Like if you just want a game mode to flex ur core teams the spiral abyss already exists…

[brokehorrorfan]

It's a wonderful life with Razors in the Night's The Exorcist III two-sided shirt. Priced at $30, it’s up for pre-order until Friday, August 18, and will ship 3-4 weeks later.

[zz-chikorita]

If Leon and Guzma and other characters from your fic were in a historical, real-world AU, what kind of jobs would they have? And what time period?

Oh shit I get to pick the occupation AND time period??? Ok. Give me a sec...

Let's talk 1920's USA🎼🎶🎷🎺🍻🥃🥂:

Guzma is a bootlegger. He started out solo but gained the trust and admiration of many if his peers and is now the head of the gang that bootlegs in that area. He goes by many names like The Boss, Don G, and The Passing Don, to name a few.

Leon is a jazz pianist. Although well known and loved in Europe for the classics, he immigrated to the US to pursue his passion for jazz. He faced far more discrimination due to the color of his skin in this country, making it difficult to get a foothold anywhere. He mainly plays for pennies at illegal speakeasies these days. He's very well liked by patrons for his upbeat personality and "exotic" good looks. His jazz nickname is "Champ"

Plumeria is a suffragette that frequents Guzma's main hang out. She's a sharp tongue and a very good card player. Guzma quickly learns to play her for drinks and not cold hard cash (or, worse, the shirt off his back).

Kukui was recently discharged from the Navy and currently works as a tailor. He comes to the speakeasy regularly to drink away his sorrows and flirt with the dancers.

Kalani is a mechanic who moonlights as a bar tender at the speakeasy. He's also not above helping Guzma out with those rattling vehicles that certainly don't have secret compartments he's installed to smuggle booze.

Raihan was a praised scholar over in Europe, but after immigrating, the best he can land is a job as a barber. The bar is a sweet reprieve from reality.

Piers is a jazz trumpeter. He use to be a jazz singer as well, however, he's decided to live life as the man he is and although he's successfully adjusted his speaking voice with practice, he is unable to make his singing voice sound any less feminine. He focuses solely on his horn now. Although, there's rumors that he will sing private encores for those few he truly trusts.

Imma write a little taste of this AU under the readmore:

Leon wiped the sweat from his brow before placing it back into the pocket of his suit with shaky hands. He's performed in front of audiences of hundreds of people! So, why is simply standing at an unmarked back door in a back alleyway getting to him?

He took a deep breath and patted his cheeks with his palms, an old habit that's become a ritual before every performance. In this case, it helps him keep his bloody nerves, if only a little.

Finally, he knocks on the door and does his best to straighten his suit.

After a moment of no response, Leon is about to knock again when a voice from the other side gruffly demands, "Password."

"P-password?" he replies dumbly.

"No password, no entry."

"Wait! I'm no with the police! A friend telt me ye have a piano? I'm just looking for a gig's all!"

Leon held his breath. There was mumbling on the other side of the door. It sounded like two voices. He looked over his shoulders and then gently pressed his ear to the door.

"...we been lookin' for someone casual. Keep the patrons entertained between sets."

"How ya know he's legit?! Could just be tryna get free booze! And what's with that voice? Queerest Brit I've ever heard!"

The next voice he heard he's certain he would've heard clearly even if he wasn't pressed up against the door:

"ACE! BLACLJACK! What the hell are you numbskulls arguing about this time?"

"There's some kid at the door," the more nasally 'numbskull' explains, "says he plays da keys."

Next thing Leon knew, the door gave way and he stumbled forward, the side of his face landing squarely in the broad chest of a man with a spotless, white suit with hair to match.

Leon quickly scrambled backwards, apologizing profusely.

The man roared with laughter and grabbed the young man by the front of his shirt, practically dragging him through the door.

"He's a bit of a gongoozler as well, eh? But tell you what, kid, I'll let it slide this time since you're so damn pretty." The man winked, and every nerve in Leon's body felt like it was lit aflame.

The man put his hand at Leon's mid back and began to lead him down a dimly lit hallway.

"You sure 'bout lettin' him in here?" the same 'numbskull' from before asked as they walked.

"Ace, the kid says he plays the keys. So let 'im play the keys! If it turns out he's lyin'-"

"We can just kick 'is ass later!" finished the other 'numbskull'.

The white-haired man waggled a finger at him with a grin on his face. "See? Blackjack knows what's up."

They arrived in a large room with a bar, some tables, a decent size stage, and a grand piano sitting just below it.

Being early in the day, there were not many people here. The dark skinned bartender eyed him from where he wiped down the bar. A couple patrons were passed out, bottle or glass in hand. In the very back corner booth, a group of men in suits quietly played cards. One, whose suit could only be described as cut sharp as a razor, appeared to be winning.

As they made their way to the piano, the man's hand still resting gently at the small of Leon's back, said man asked him, "What's your drink?"

"Oh...uh...whisky, I guess."

He called over for the bartender to pour a glass before setting a firm hand on each of Leon's shoulders and forcing him to sit on the piano bench.

Next thing he knew, a lowball glass was thrust into his hand. Without thinking, he started throwing it back.

"A'right, a'right, take it easy, kid," the white haired man scolded, a bit of amusement in his voice, snatching the glass from his hand and setting it up on top of the piano. "You play good, you can have the rest and then some, eh?"

"O-oh! Richt! Umm... what do ye want meh to play?"

"Whatever ya got," he replies cooly, leaning an elbow on the piano, "You sing too?"

"I... umm... I mean... I can... it just... isnae onything special."

The man hummed in thought.

"Alright then. Just play us somethin', don't worry 'bout singin'. If I happen to know it, maybe I'll sing with ya. Sound good?"

"Aye- er... yeah. Ok."

Leon took a breath to center himself. This is the easy part. All he's gotta do is focus on his playing and lose himself in it. Luckily, the few ounces of liquor he just ingested seemed to be helping his nerves as well.

He didn't really think about which song to play; he just started playing and hoped for the best. The tall man seemed to perk up with interest.

Next thing Leon knew, a deep sultry voice sang:

"There was a boy

A very strange enchanted boy

They say he wandered very far

Very far

Over land and sea

A little shy

And sad of eye

But very wise was he-"

Transfixed on the handsome man singing just in his peripheral vision, Leon failed to notice all the heads turning their way, some even beginning to nod in approval or sway to the deliciously languid rhythm.

"And then one day

One magic day he passed my way

And while we spoken of many things

Fools and kings

This he said to me-"

As a professional, Leon didn't waver as the white-haired man moved to stand behind him, placing a large hand on each of his shoulders. Although, it didn't stop the hair on the back of his neck from standing on end.

"The greatest thing

You'll ever learn

Is just to love-"

The man leaned down to his ear.

"And be loved...

in return."

[razorbeard]

☃  : What is your muse’s favorite season? What about their least favorite season, if they have one? (@ cale)

Cale loves fall/beginning a spring that time of the year where you can still get away with wearing a hoodie or a jacket and STILL be comfortable. AS far as seasons he hates he's not a big fan of summer, doesn't enjoy the humidity or the high heat and being on a planet like Sigma Rhada makes him WISH for winter weather lol.

[multiverseofmisfits]

🤓 Well, technically, Razor, potatoes can be gr-

"NO!"

He didn't even let the anon finish their statement as he quickly gave a falcon wolf punch aimed at the face.

[divademonic]

i miss having headphone jacks on phones