#((OOC) TW mild gore.)

[marilostfieldblog]

[Transcript begin.]

[The transcript begins with the sound of someone kicking a metal desk, screaming as they do. The sound of someone falling to the floor follows as the person begins crying. A door lock can be heard opening before a tape machine begins playing.]

?: Hello Mari, Cora. I Want To Play A Game.

[Voice identified: Mai.]

Mai: If You're Both Hearing This, Then Mari Followed The Rules.

?: I beat your fuckin game! just let me leave…

[Voice identified: Mari.]

Ma: If Cora Isn't With You. Turn The Tape Over Now.

[The tape machine can be heard opening, as Mari can be heard turning the cassette around and putting it back in. The voice of Mai is heard again, but this time she's laughing. This goes on for one minute before the laughing stops abruptly.]

Ma: Congrats! You Won… At Least… That’s What You Would Hear If You Weren't A Fucking Idiot.

Mari: Wha-

Ma: You Were So Focused On Saving-

[Again the audio cuts out before a name is heard.]

Ma: You Didn't Even Think To Look In Between The Lines.

M: T- Trust in me…

[Mari can be heard pausing the tape for a moment and begins sobbing before the sound of metal being punched is heard. That lasts for 5 minutes before Mari stops and the tape continues.]

Ma: If You Just Took A Moment To Think And Look And Trust In Me, The Door To The Final Test Would Have Opened. But Now Because You Couldn't Listen, The Blood Of An Innocent Mother Is On Your Hands You Pushed. I Never Told You To Cut Into Cora. YOU Made That Choice. You Are A Killer. Just Like Your Dad. Just. Like. Me.

[Mai's voice laughs again, at the same time Mari can be heard throwing something at a window. It doesn’t break but someone does shout far enough away to be barely heard.]

Ma: So Now Your Final Test. A Trip To Kill Your Own Past. But… If It's Too Much. You Can Always Wait For Death. Live Or Die The Choice Is Yours.

[The tape ends and Mari screams, Before footsteps are heard on tile.]

M: Ok bitch… You want to play a game, let's play huh?

[The audio gets grainy for a moment as Mari takes the phone, more footsteps as they can be heard opening and closing a door.]

M: What's the final test!

[Another audio machine starts up once more, as footsteps on fake sounding grass are heard. The audio is almost rushed sounding, as Mai's voice is heard with heavy breathing.]

Ma: GOD DAMN! Your Girlfriend Is A Bitch…

M: Great more of this.

Ma: Speaking Of Which! In This Final Test I Said You'd Have To Kill Your Past. I Wasn’t Joking… Technically.

[Mai laughs as the tape starts sounding rushed, Running is heard in the tape audio as it continues.]

Ma: You Have 10 Minutes To Save Sarah And Your Mom… From Yourself! If You Can Do That You Win! I Think… Honesty I Don't Know If All The Wiring Works Completely Soooo.

M: Wha- What the fuck…

Ma: Live Or Die The Choice Is Y-

[Someone can be heard laughing in the background, Mai shouts in anger before the sound of a door being kicked in followed by a gunshot before the tape ends.]

M: Ok… Great…

[More footsteps, Mari sighs before they can be heard sitting down.]

M: Why the fuck did it have to be me… It could have been anyone else… But no It HAD to be me…

[Mari begins crying, the faint sound of robotic screaming can be heard.]

M: Can't even cry in peace? Ugh right… Beat the game and get sparrow help. Leave.

[Mari can be heard running in the direction of the screaming. Mai's voice can be heard on the intercom in the room. "5 Minutes".]

M: OK I GET IT I'M GOING!

[The grass changes to tile as evident by the noise change, 3 people? can be heard fighting in front. Mari can be heard running in that direction before stopping and covering their breath.]

?: MARI STOP YOU'RE HURTING HIM!

[Voice identified: Leanne?]

?: D- DAD SAID HE WAS A CORRUPTION! PLAGUING MY MIND!

[Voice identified: Mari?]

?: M- MARI PLEASE!

[Voice identified: Sam?]

Leanne?: YOU'RE NOT LIKE YOUR FATHER! HE'S A COLD H- HEARTED SON OF A BITCH!

[Mari? can be heard hitting Leanne? the sound of metal hitting the floor is heard, as Mari begins running. A recording of Mai is heard again, now "3 minutes."]

M: DON'T FUCKIN HURT HER!

[A sharp metal sound is heard as Mari screams, falling to the ground as the mechanical monster screams.]

Mari?: S- STAY OUT OF THIS!

Sam?: S- STOP MARI P- PLEASE!

L?: A- are y- you ok?

[Mari holds back tears of fear and pain as they try to talk to the robot.]

M: Yeah… You?

M?: D- DON'T TALK TO HER!

[Another metal sound this time something stabbing through metal, a robotic scream is heard from Leanne?]

M: YOU!

[Mai's voice interrupts beginning a countdown from 60. 59. 58.]

M: DAMNIT!

[The counting continues. 57. 56. 55.]

M: S- Shit what do i do

[Mechanical screaming covers up the next 20 seconds of the count, when it's heard again the counting sounds more panicked. 35. 34. 33. Mari can be heard kicking a metal body, a bone breaking can be heard causing Mari to scream in agony, as the metal body hits the floor. 13 seconds pass. 20. 19. 18.]

M: Shit what to use, what to use!

[The counting keeps going as Mari can be heard crawling to find something. 17. 16. 15.]

M: FOUND SOMETHING!

[Mari makes a sound of pain while picking something up. They can be heard crawling back to the metal body. 14. 13. 12.]

L?: DON'T KILL MY BABY PLEASE!

[Mari takes a deep breath. 11. 10. 9. They begin to cry, 8. 7. 6.]

M: I'm sorry… mama.

[Mari sounds strained as they seemingly struggle to lift something above their head. 5. 4. 3. 2.]

M: JUST DIE!

[Before the clock hits 1. Mari can be heard repeatedly striking someone with a metal object, this lasts for 10 seconds before they stop and hit the floor. a beep can be heard and the other mechanical creatures hit the floor.]

M: I- I did it! I FUCKIN DID IT!

[Mari can be heard grabbing their phone before turning it off automatically ending the transcript.]

[End transcript.]

[yngai]

i was gonna write a longer diatribe about capcom's imposed limitations on their female characters for the sake of player eye candy but really what i wanted to say is that i'd love to write more of ada living on the opposite ends of the suave femme fatale persona she projects on assignments that have her more in control . days off or off-days where she is a little more disheveled, a little bit high, carrying on her life of crime shedding the mask but retaining camouflage as the spite & cynicism that underline her professional detachment bear teeth . mostly because this comic's imagery (x) is exactly what i picture in my mind for the darker sides of ada's existence, lower stakes, lower paying jobs for people who could never grasp in their hand the fate of the world, a no less draining release from the times she was forced to decide between her survival & death on a scale she cannot comprehend . also i'm a sucker for crime thrillers, give me more .

[dcndrohime]

Spoopy HC

Starting short to say that Hinamori, much to the vibes she gives off, her overall personality, is one of those friends who would be willing to bury a body, wheter with you or for you. On the latter option though, you'd need alot of convincing under your belt.

Even then, she also is prone to bury people, wheter completely or halfway into the ground, in a fight situation or just to keep her hands clean because she doesn't have a real fondness for engaging into a fight in the first place, lest something makes it unavoidable. However, this kind of stunt is never going to be found in friendly sparring, lest your muse can take it.

Let it be known, though, that not many foes are capable of getting out of the ground, unless they have the claws for it, use Geo, etc. Fair warning that if you're unable to manually get out from literally being buried alive, well say your prayers.

Not only does that leans towards asphyxiating someone but it can lead to Taphophobia, a clear sense of helplessness but its even worse if Claustrophobia is already involved into the mix.

She's done this plenty of times before and she seldom if not, never do it when in company, for good reasons.

Yes, its not something to expect from one such as her, yes, it can lead to some pretty gruesome results, decay at best but really, just don't push her to that point, where Hina has to resort to burying a person whomst is alive in all sense of the word.

She has, yes, decayed bodies of real people.

[demon-witch05]

Gonna make a list. It's short (SPOILER IT'S LONGER THAN I THOUGHT. I ASSUMED THERE WERE LIKE. THREE.) but that's probably because these are the ones that have stuck. All of them have something to do with Drake. I'm also adding whose perspective it is.

gaiaphage steals drake's body. the one that got thrown down the mineshaft. possible drake and sam romance (maybe just friendship i've never written romance before). it's not a happy ending. Drake and Sam pov.

remember that scene where drake gets a shotgun in the face? he has mandibles now and can't speak. also it itches constantly until gaia needs/wants him to do something. (basically body horror stuff) ??? pov

made drake weird with science. nicknamed frogboy by my sibling as a result. drake and sam romance after FAYZ. can't guarantee how long after. mainly after FAYZ. mainly Sam pov.

one i've titled "24 Hour Truce". focuses on an unexpected friendship between drake and sam. during the FAYZ. Sam pov.

sam goes to Coates (I don't think that's a new idea). drake gains a friend (it's sam) for the first time and immediately loses that friendship. also they're roommates. idk anything about boarding schools. pre FAYZ. maybe during as well?

version 1 of disabled drake au: astrid centric/pov, sees drake again when arrives to the school (trying to make these short so won't go full explanation sowwy). she eventually makes friends with drake. after the FAYZ.

version 2 of disabled drake au: sam centric/pov. also after the FAYZ but earlier. they hate each other's fucking guts. it gets better eventually. probably drake and sam romance.

after FAYZ. drake is so bad at covering up the fact he was also horribly traumatized by the FAYZ but thankfully no one is paying enough attention. or cares. someone notices, guess who. sam pov, maybe drake pov.

time loop. drake and sam are stuck reliving the FAYZ. it gets worse before it gets better. the idea is sam wakes up in the hospital anywhere between 2 weeks to 2 months after the FAYZ after a final loop. any kid that died in the original FAYZ but survived one of the loops randomly appears in Perdido Beach. usually where they died. sam and drake pov.

that scene before caine throws drake down the mineshaft. instead of drake hitting diana, diana kicks him in the balls. can't decide if I want to go with 'and that's the only thing that changed' or if it changes things in butterfly effect way. probably diana pov?

Can my brain stop coming up with different aus every 2 days. please and thank you.

[lust-killer]

trigger pulled

TW: This blog will have: gore, weaponry, mild flirts, death, disfigured people, And more tired carefully

' Why hello.. you have tooken an interest in me hmm? My, my. Maybe I'll take an interest in you ehehe... Call me trigger, dear... "

OOC: Trigger is lust killer, he is a cathooded fluffies arm flirt that knows how to fight, he is kinda op in fighting but he can loose not easily, but he can. He can summon multiple machetes if needed.

Story?: After the death of multiple senses a pacifist au of underlust sans took it into his own hands to finish off the genocidal players, the help of his frisk's player he know hunts down anyone who dares to cross his path. Or well, anyone he gets paid to he is a cheap snake

Note; trigger is known for regressing in his behavior, meaning his behavior isn't set and can be very chaotic.

[punishing-eden]

The Salvation I Seek… (NSFW) ⚠️

Blade and Reader/Trailblazer

Pure impulsive writing

Summary:

You were the first one, the first one to make him feel close to death.

Blade will do anything to meet you again, so that you can give him the Salvation he been longing for centuries.

Tags: tw:⚠️description of self-harm, graphic descriptions of gore & violence, Mentions of death and mild Yandere-ish behaviour (Blade) One-shot, short fic, pure impulsive writing, might be ooc, readers can be Trailblazer or not (there is no specification).

[[⚠️This work contains mature content and themes. To read means you are willing to view at your own risk. This work is not to be consumed by 18 below. Nor, is it allowed to be redistributed.⚠️]]

This fic will be post privately, if you wish to read this you can ask for the link. I will DM it you.

Please state your age on your bio

Do not ask for the link if you are below 18

Further info about NSFW

[trashratsspinning]

As promised!

Speedpaint will be on tiktok once it downloads!

Shameless tiktok plug 🥰:

_trashrats_

^Click the link!!

Gyis in a hatsune miku binder (non-flash ver. Below)

[theoddshq]

DURI PARK (han sohee fc) the odds are in your favor! Please report to your nearest Capitol Agent to be prepped for the 74th Annual Hunger Games!

ooc

Alias/Age/Pronouns/Timezone: Sierra/32/she/they/cst Triggers: [REDACTED] If you had to describe your muse as a canon Hunger Games character, or mix, who would you compare them to and why?: A healthy mix of Wiress (in her state of shock, unable to really express herself outside of a few words) and Beetee (a brilliant mind, constantly running in the background). Anything else?: I didn’t see a password in the rules, but it is possible I missed it, so if I did, please let me know

basics

HAN SOHEE, CIS-FEMALE, SHE/HER The 74th Annual Hunger Games are upon us and here comes DURI PARK, a DISTRICT 8 MENTOR. Word around The Capitol is that they’re DETAIL-ORIENTED AND RESPECTFUL but can also be STANDOFFISH AND APATHETIC. According to sources, they’re 25 and were once described as monochrome with a splash of orange, being the last to know, herringbone patterns so meticulously laid out, constant finger tapping, and forgetting names to mask pain. What a character! As we always say, may the odds be ever in their favor!

Biography 

Tw for Violence, Murder, Mild Gore

The morning of her reaping wasn’t anything spectacular. She had been through so many of them now that it felt almost normal to wake up, slip into that little grey dress she kept in the back of her closet, and step out into the town square. Her best friend was already there, waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, hair all done up in the pretty braids that Duri’s fingers had never quite mastered. Nothing out of the ordinary until the actual names were called. It felt like her stomach had bottomed out of her. The world around her buzzed. Her best friend had squeezed her hand so hard that it hurt, but Duri had simply moved on autopilot. Feet took her to where peacekeepers were waiting for her to lead her up. The world was fuzzy, dark, a little colder than she remembered. She stood looking out at the blank, impassive, relieved faces of the people in her district, the people she had grown up with, and felt everything give up in her. She was thinking the same thing that the rest of them seemed to be. She didn’t stand a chance. She didn’t hear the name of the other tribute, didn’t acknowledge them as they stepped up on stage next to her. Her eyes stung like she wanted to cry, but she didn’t. They were shuttled off into rooms to say goodbye to their families, and her father and brothers came to speak with her while she simply stared at them, dumbfounded. “You could win, Dee. You aren’t stupid.” That had been Dae, foolish and optimistic, but she had nodded anyway. No one else had come to say goodbye. Not her best friend with the pretty braids in her hair, not the boy she’d been sweet on since grade school, no one. That was okay. That was life.

The world had felt darker when she’d gotten on the train. The world zoomed by. Her district partner, the other tribute from 8, had spoken to her briefly. She knew right away that she’d been cold. She felt twinges of regret and sorrow in her chest from it, but had never apologized. Their mentor had been more optimistic than Duri thought possible or necessary. Spritely older guy with sparkles in his eyes, going on about strategy and sponsors. Duri had barely listened, but had receded into the back of her own mind. She was a smart girl, she’d heard it all her life. She could win, if apathy didn’t drown her before she managed to get above it. But it would take a lot of cunning and skill. Working with a needle was nothing like working with a knife. She couldn’t imagine what kind of skills would save her life in an all out battle to the death. But maybe she would try.

She didn’t make many friends or allies among her fellow tributes. She was distant, she was moody, and she tended to be a bit haughty, using fancy three dollar words instead of speaking plainly. She got a reputation, both from fellow tributes and, if her mentor was to be believed, with the capitol citizens, as stuck up, snobby. She did her best to warm up, though her efforts in her interview, in the training center, came across as disingenuous as they felt. By the time the games started, she was sure she was one of the biggest targets, someone to get rid of early. The other district 8 tribute had made friends with the tributes from 5 and 7 and the careers, of course, had their little pack. She took off the moment the gong signaled and did her best on her own. Her games lasted five days, and she spent the first three of them hiding in the craggy mountains that was her arena, finding little clusters of rock and caves to made temporary shelters, only running into other tributes when outside forces pushed her toward them. She couldn’t remember ever being so scared that first time she’d shoved someone else, watching them hit the rocks with a sick thud. They didn’t move, but Duri thought better safe than sorry. Her hands found a large rock, and the way that other tribute’s skull cracked, the way her hands ended up covered in hot sticky blood after several minutes of using that rock as a makeshift weapon, just to be safe, is one memory she’ll never forget. When it was down to herself and one other tribute, they found one another and something in her snapped. Some sick part of her that decided that she wanted to live. She saw the replay of that final showdown after she had won her games, sitting on a couch and being interviewed, listening to that pained, wounded, terrifying scream she had let out as she ran at the other tribute, tackled them. They had rolled around for a while. She had taken several blows, ended up with a knife in her side, a couple of teeth missing that the capitol had so generously replaced for her. She had ended up getting her hands around their neck, and squeezing until the other tribute had stopped moving. It had been terrifying to watch. Even after the fact, alive as she was, she felt sick.

She’d been a long shot to win, for sure, and she knew that a lot of people in the capitol had bet against her and lost a lot of money. She wasn’t exactly well liked among the citizens, not the choice winner, but she was pretty enough and polite enough and some people found her a novelty. She would never be a capitol darling, but that was fine. She was alive. She went back home to district 8, she settled into her new home with her new life and her quite existence, until the next year, when she was touted out to be a mentor. And the year after that. Year after year, for the past four years, she’s been dragged out of her home and mentored kids who never stood a chance of coming back. Every year, they ask her if she thinks this year will be different, if she misses or thinks about any of the past tributes. She gives her canned response of ‘one can only hope!’ with that charming smile that the capitol escort has taught her so well, but the truth is darker. She doesn’t remember the names of those people she sends off to the slaughter, because it hurts less. She doesn’t remember the names of the people she killed in her own games, of the other person from her own district who they lost that same year. She doesn’t remember for her own peace of mind.

writing sample 

[REDACTED]

stats

Deceive 3 Fight 2 Lore (knowledge) 2 Notice 3 Physique 1 Provoke 1 Rapport 3 Resourcefulness 2 Stealth 2 Will 1

extras

https://www.pinterest.com/nyctimus/magneto-made-some-valid-points/peter-the-angel/

This is an old pinterest board from an old rp but it has the right vibes and i’m gonna rebrand it for this character.

[bel9ved]

Signless ==> Die.

The blackness had lifted slowly.

You did not know where you were except that you were moving. Smoothly, less like a troll was carrying you and more like you were on wheels. You are standing, your wrists chained above you in cold metal shackles. One of your arms stings in four long stripes where the cool night air hits it. It is eerily quiet, except for the rough sound of wheels on cobblestones. Is someone crying?

Your head is pounding but you are quickly becoming more aware. Your eyes flutter open, and behind the row of subjugglator enforcers you see a crowd. Bigger than any you have ever spoken to, all silent, watching eyes. There is a line of subjugs behind the crowd as well, keeping them penned in. Keeping them scared.

You twist in your chains, trying to look around. To find an escape route, to find... Your breath catches.

Your family is behind you. On another cart, being wheeled by clowns, each of them only just breaching consciousness. All chained to a pole like you are, though they are together. You are all alone.

You twist again, panic starting to set in and you go utterly still with terror when your eyes finally focus on what awaits you. There he is. The Grand Motherfucking Highblood. His grinning skull burns itself into your vision like a brand. Suddenly, he is all you can see, your eyes dilating to pinpricks with the adrenaline. No. No no no no no.

The march continues. By the time you reach him he fills your vision in all his glory. Your pusher is in your ears again but you hear your lusus begin to scream for you as your family comes to a halt some distance behind you.

Someone grabs your arms, holds you tight as they uncuff the cold metal and begin to drag you toward an anvil and a brazier you hadn't noticed until now. A blueblood stands nearby, waiting, his back straight and his head bowed in the presence of his betters.

Finally, your instincts kick in and you begin to fight. You yell and thrash and when they dig their claws into you, you wrench your arm away with all your strength. You barely feel the chunk of flesh that tears beyond your need to escape. It's useless, though. You are one, tiny little mutantblood and there are at least four clowns flanking you. Before long, they have you as immobile as you were in the chains.

As you are dragged forward by the arms, the blueblood dutifully pulls a white hot strip of metal from the brazier. It is placed on the anvil, and you swear you can almost hear the metal whine. You can see the waves of heat coming off of it, the glow against the dark steel beneath.

And then you see nothing as white hot pain takes over your vision. They've lowered your wrist to the cuff and the blueblood is hammering it into a perfect circle molded to your flesh, the agony wrapping around you until it is all consuming. You are screaming louder than you ever have before, struggling like the prey you are to these trolls. Tears are pouring from your eyes. You can no longer hear your family calling out behind you.

Your vision is only just starting to return when the second band is brought from the flames and placed down. You desperately try to get your wrist away from them, but their grip is unyielding and the second cuff is molded just as easily into place. This time, when you scream, it is raw and ragged, your voice already breaking for the audience the Grand has brought to witness your execution.

You are sobbing, shaking as they weld the chains in place. The smell of searing muscle makes you gag.

There is a long, sturdy chain that they take up and drag you forward with. You are in agony as you are wrenched up onto the platform where the stone flogging pole stands. Your wrists go up above your head and you scream again with the new white hot pain that crashes into your system. They drape the chain over the top of the pole, and one of the ones who was holding you swiftly drives a nail into one of the gaps in the links. There is no chance of escape, now.

A few moments pass as the Grand walks leisurely up to you. His smooth voice begins, but you don't understand what he's saying beyond the pounding in your head and the sizzling sound of your wrists in the cuffs. He is reaching for you, and in your shock you do the only thing you can.

You bite.

Fucker isn't even wearing armor. Your fangs, as small as they are, sink into his forearm and you dig in as far as you can. You feel him growl more than you hear it. He tugs his arm. Your teeth tighten and you growl at him, as threatening a warning as you can produce with your breath so shallow.

You see his eyes narrow, but you don't see the knife coming until it pierces into your chest. You've been stabbed before, but never with the force behind it that he has. It's a spike of pain driving into your ribs and you gasp, another sob breaking from your throat. In that moment he easily wrenches his arm from your grip and examines the wound.

You snarl at him. You don't know what else to do.

"if you was so thirsty, you shoulda just asked. you thirsty, mutant?"

"I could say the same of you."

"animal. don't know why anyone listened to you."

His insults help you find your voice. It's hoarse, ragged from your screams, but it's there. He backhands you across the face for your insolence and the throbbing pain in your head becomes much more sharp. You can feel fresh blood trickling through your hair and onto your forehead. You take a shuddering breath, and your head rises again.

"You are vile." You spit at him as you turn your eyes back to the skull on his face.

"i'd say tell it to someone who cares, but."

Your expression breaks. You snarl at him, but your attention has already been taken up entirely by the view your family, staring back in utter horror at what they are doing to you.

As the clown unfurls his scroll and begins reading your charges and crimes, you break down into sobs that wrack your feverish frame. You make eye contact with all of them, each one in turn. You see your mother's cold fury, your love's blazing anger, the worry and terror on your friend's face.

Your head falls as you keep crying.

---------------------------------------

"with all them tears, i think you are gonna get thirsty."

You hadn't noticed he was done reading. You look up at him, barely able to make out his paint with the tears in your eyes, but you don't have enough time to react before he is pressing a jar to your cracked lips and pouring the contents inside.

It's blood. Oh fuck, it's blood. Cold metallic slime trying to ooze its way into your throat. Thick, cloying with its taste. You try to spit it out, coughing and gagging and twisting in your restraints against the sudden searing pain in your wrists as you move.

"what, bronze not to your taste? aight, here this oughtta be better."

A second jar replaces the first as you are struggling to catch your breath, and this time you swallow almost half of it before you can realize what's happening. You are retching. You must have been out a while, because your stomach is empty and nothing comes up, but it hurts where the blade had been in your chest and it tugs at your restraints again and the choking devolves once more into a cry of pain and then into shaking sobs.

"damn he thinks he's too good for all of us, don't he?"

You hear some of the clowns laugh. You hear your Survivor snarl at him. You shake your head as much as you can, but that only gets laughter as well. You're the funniest joke on Alternia right now.

It takes him a moment to come toward you again. The jars he holds now are empty, the knife he had already tipped with crimson stain is in his hand. He doesn't make a fuss. Doesn't flourish or show off. The knife simply dips into your upraised arm, and it hardly even hurts. Not compared to the fire on your wrists or the burning in your lungs. He slices neatly, just above the armpit. You know there is a vein there that will spill your color as fast as it will flow.

He holds the vessel up to catch the precious pigment. Presses it into your skin. When the first is full and the bleeding has slowed a bit, he moves around a few steps and slices your other arm open as wide as the first. To say you are lightheaded is an understatement. The world swims slowly as you feel your consciousness begin to fade. The pain in your wrists isn't as sharp now. Everything feels duller. It would almost be pleasant, except for the feeling of your life slowly being drained into his paint pots.

Finally, he steps away. You don't hear what he says now. Everything is fuzzy and too cold. The world is moving in slow motion and your eyes are full of tears. Your family are crying. You would know those sounds anywhere. Your lusus's heavy sobbing, Psiionic's ragged pleading. Your mate's screeching, angry heaves. In your daze, you try to move your arm to reach for them. To tell them that everything will be okay.

The white hot sear of the metal brings you back into sharp focus. You cry out again, with nowhere near the strength of before. Your head is swimming, but you can see Grand walking away, cleaning his knife, as an archeradicator you don't recognize steps forward and draws his bow, the arrow already nocked and pointed at your chest.

The thudding sound of a bowstring hits your ears milliseconds before you feel the sting of the gash in your side. The arrow catches you across the ribs, missing its strike but opening a wide crimson wound. Blood spills, in a way one might almost call symbolic, and begins to soak into your ruined leggings. You hiss in pain, but the new slash brings another moment of clarity.

You see the man freeze, his ears pinning back with sudden fear. You see the Grand turn around, cold fury on his face. Before the archeradicator can even try to explain himself, you hear the sickening crunch of his neck and he drops lifeless to the ground. You stare at him, his face twisted into a rictus of shock and horror.

...He had been trying to kill you, but... He had been following orders. He had barely missed, and still the Grand treats this life, this troll, like nothing. Even one of his own is not safe from him. He wastes the most precious thing on this planet, and you cannot hear anything over the slow, drumming pulse of rage in your ears. Every bone in your body turns to fury. Every drop of blood that is still in your veins pulses red hot. Your face morphs from pain to white hot anger, and baring your bloody teeth you snarl.

He gestures to another. One you recognize as the Executor Darkleer. One that, in another life, you might have called a friend. He draws his bow with perfect posture. Aims it at your chest again but suddenly you don't care. You have eyes only for the Grand.

Your fury bubbles out of you in a screech that breaks the silence like a gun. It explodes at the Highblood like a whip from the hell that is your anger at a world unfair.

"FUCK YOU."

You don't hear the bowstring this time, or see the arrow coming.

The pain is immense. The arrow hits you dead in the side, drives into you hard enough that the tip pierces through your back. You cough up blood from the sudden impact, the fury leaving your face all at once to be replaced with terror as you realize, finally, that you are about to die. You can't breathe, your head is swimming with pain and blood loss. You struggle to focus, to look at the man who has calmly, and coldly, murdered you.

His face is impassive, but yours is pleading as you try to meet the eyes behind the goggles and find nothing but the void in return.

You barely have time to drag your eyes away from him, to find your family once more before everything.

Goes.

....Black.

[ask-them-bois]

(( OH NO ZERUKI QWQ ))

:)

Bladepen has been fucking up his life before ey ever even came back from the dead. Enforcer placed the bells there himself, when he learned of Zeruki's ancestor, to remind Zeruki that,

A, he was a mutant, and would always be a mutant, and Enforcer was being merciful by giving him a shit job and letting him live.

And B, that he'd never be as good as his ancestor, at anything.

And to just really drive that home, the bells are secured with thick, hooked needles that are embedded in the flesh of Zeruki's tail, that would have to be surgically removed.

Yes, Zeruki is somewhat at fault for signing up for the Fleet, but he thinks life is pointless and just a joke. He was certain that they'd kill him.

[ask-the-hooded-man]

The Harbinger

@pissyass​ character The Harbinger

[couragelinked]

Finally got off my butt and read the skyward sword prequel Manga even though its “not canon” and uh

So this translation is kind of off BUT looking at my hyrule historia basically link was wrongfully imprisoned and then the guy who framed him got killed by Ganon and ganon’s army was approaching so the hylians were like ‘hey fam can u like....help us out? I know we kept you imprisoned for years over something that you didnt even do and you warned us of an upcoming evil and we should’ve believed you since you were a devoted loyal knight but like we need you now lol sorry’

And link rightfully calls them out for it BUT still goes out to battle because he’s a good person and cares more about the people and the world

But when the goddess hylia comes down and offers the master sword calling him the most honorable hero in the land

Again this translation is off but basically hylia says that the blade knows if Link is honorable or not, and asks him if he will take revenge on the kingdom for his imprisonment or save it from doom

Link says that whether its Gods or humans, everyone only uses him when ever it suits their interest but 

He will always stand by his friends. He’s too good.

Link fights for 7 days and 7 nights until he’s fatally wounded in his side.  He’s laying there dying until the loftwing who came down with Hylia (and judged him like a dick) comes down and offers him a lift to deliver the Master sword to Hylia to start lifting the ground to the sky, finally finding link worthy enough to ride him

Hylia’s part done, She sends the sword back down for Link to finish the severing of the ground to send it to the sky

Which he does, thinking entirely of his people instead of himself once again

Though once the ground and master sword start to rise, Its way too late for Link since he’s been bleeding to death this entire fucking time

And with his final thoughts, wishes the best for his people and swears his spirit will always be with them and the loftwing And dies

Hylia comes down and cradles Link’s lifeless body and it’s brought to light that the goddesses were the reason Link was imprisoned for years IN THE FIRST PLACE SO HE COULD FACE ENOUGH PAIN, SUFFERING AND TORTURE TO BE WORTHY ENOUGH OF THE MASTER SWORD 

And she promises that both his spirit will live eternally and she will be reincarnated as a human (later on as Zelda) so that they may meet again

So not only did the goddesses make Link be wrongfully imprisoned and tortured for years so he could be worthy of a fucking sword, they and the hylians used Link to save their asses which caused him to lose his life in the process and since he managed to do this, the goddesses decided to put Link’s spirit/soul on eternal reincarnation mode so he could be used to save their asses again and again 

I know this “isn't Canon” but Jesus fucking christ LET HIM REST  

link was tortured because of the goddesses and his people, and then sacrificed his life to save his people and the world and the goddesses decided to make him their eternal errand boy because of it

i’m surprised he hasn’t turned evil yet god

[yuikomorihotline]

Tw mild gore

{ I'm just thinking about Yui being a hyper feminine serial killer... Like she just going around with a sparkly, pink axe with large pink bows and sanrio charms on it. Even the blade is doused in glitter and said glitter gets into her victim's wound, which could be her trademark of sorts- }

{ This is so ooc and I'm sorry that you have to see this but I love the idea of a sweet, calm and collected girl just snapping and going wild with an axe. }

[dusterson]

rules & ooc (mobile)

this line it not to be edited as to maintain the integrity of the post’s URL. please inform the mun if any directories to this post do not work properly.

Mun is over the age of 21, muse is under the age of 18. Mature themes concerning violence, trauma, abuse, death, etc. will be present. Romance will not surpass mild PG-13.

THE RULE OF LAW

01 : DON’T BE A DICK.

godmoding metagaming etc. ain’t cool, ooc drama is even less cool, don’t reblog IC posts you’re not involved in, yadda yadda yadda, i’m crossing my fingers here that i won’t need to make an entire encyclopaedia of regulations here i have faith that you’re smarter and more mature than that.

i like anons throw em my way ic or ooc, but misuse the anon function and you lose the privilege of being a faceless horror-terror that gives Dustin nightmares.

i’m not going to say no drama because humans as a species are the biggest drama-mongers of the earthly organisms. but i will avoid engaging in it like the plague. i do not tolerate hateful and/or aggressive behaviour. i don’t care why, to who, or what about. calm. down. this is a fucking hobby.

02 : DON’T BE A PUSHY DICK.

the muse is not the mun, if my answer’s no then it’s no. if you pester/nag me after saying no, i’ll just block you. my post length will vary and no i don’t expect you to match or vise versa. i don’t really fancy up posts for rp replies that’s too much effort i’m here to write you know?

i am disabled physically, neurologically, and psychologically; that along with other IRL circumstances mean that i will be slow. i may need to take breaks from rping, not have the focus for this specific muse, and i might forget things. i don’t mind the occasional poke if you feel i’ve forgotten a thread or an ask etc, but please be patient with me.

do not get angry with me that i roleplay to my comfort. if i don’t meet your expectations i don’t want to hear it, just find another cove to sail.

03 : DON’T BE A GROSS DICK.

dustin is a minor in official canon and in my canon. i ain’t shipping him with anyone outside his age range, and i sure as fuck ain’t shipping right off the bat. i don’t know you, therefore i don’t trust you, to write that kinda dynamic with you. any romantic/affectionate content will be light PG-13 if not straight-up PG. if you try and sneak in suggestive or NSFW shit i will thanos snap your creative motivation. and block you.

i may unfollow blogs that have a highly frequent amount of such content on their blog.

DON’T LET ME BE A DICK!

any commonly triggering content will be tagged (example tw), such as gore, abuse, suicide, etc. but don’t be afraid or ashamed to request i tag something specific for you. i’m grouchy, not judgemental.

don’t hesitate to let me know if you’re losing interest in a thread, don’t know how to respond, or even that you’re no longer interested in rping. honestly if the third’s the case you don’t even need to explain, yeet to freedom my sweet bird good luck out there and for the love of god enjoy yourself and feel no shame for it.

THANK YOU FOR NOT BEING A DICK!

that’s why i’m saying the don’t part, cos i’m trusting you (kind of) not to be one, cos like you got this far so you can’t be one see? here’s some apple cider, thank you for coming on the tour, now let me introduce myself.

So now all THAT’s out of the way, ‘sup. You can call me Saahs or J. I’m a 28 year old artist, writer, and lover of horror. Any pronouns are fine with me. RP has been a major part of my life for 99.9% of it, I started playing AD&D before I could properly write, and I’m not letting this strain of hobby go any time soon. Like I said I probably won’t be a highly active rper due to chronic illness and IRL issues, but my messages, askbox, are always open! And I’m happy to give my Discord if you’d like to chat over there as well. The rules are a lil snippy I wrote em at 4 in the morning initially then it only got worse cos and I’m a jaded animal but legit I don’t assume You are gonna break rules or anything there’s just been too many times man. Like I’m a shy guy and I don’t like having to deal with conflict so don’t make me ok

[hlvrpa]

ABOUT

🖤   CHARACTERS [MOBILE]

HLVRPA (Half Life VR Post Apocalypse) is a HLVRAI AU made Crunchy (@cruncherofteeth). 

  Welcome to HLVRPA, an interactive ask blog. You’ve probably seen a handful of blogs out there like this one and this one is going to work basically the same.

  Follow Gordon Freeman as he finds a pair strange walkie-talkies letting out static sitting in the lap of a skeleton. After he picks them up, voices begin to speak from the walkie-talkie. Where will the voices lead him? Who will he meet? There’s only one way to find out.

  The radio is buzzing, what do you say?

———————————————————————

  Yo! My name is Crunchy or Crunch and I am the artist and author of this blog. I use pretty much any pronouns but I do like Ae/Aer pronouns. My main blog is @cruncherofteeth and I’ll probably be putting up WIP art of any bigger pieces involved with this project there. Now its time for the notes and such!

  Due to the nature of this AU being a post apocalyptic AU, there will at points be body horror, unsettling imagery, as well as some mild gore. All of these things will be tagged when they occur. If you ever have anything you need tagged specifically, don’t be afraid to let me know :o)

  If you have any questions for me specifically, start them with OOC or with my name so that I can easily tell that it is for me.

  Fanart or anything like that is fully allowed! Feel free to tag this account, my main account, use the #HLVRPA tag, or message it to me! I will in fact throw my love at you.

  I have done my best with formatting this blog to also accommodate mobile pages. However this is the first time I have really done something like this, so if you are having any issues at all with links or the like, please let me know and I will try to fix it as soon as possible.

———————————————————————

CURRENT CONTENT WARNINGS

🖤  None

———————————————————————

RULES

🖤  I can and will delete any asks that make me uncomfortable.

🖤  While this blog will contain some darker imagery at points, nothing explicitly NSFW is allowed. Mild NSFW jokes are chill (dilf jokes, etc.) but keep any serious amount of horny to yourself please.

🖤  Please don’t try to fourth wall break too bad! Feel free to talk about things the characters might not know yet, but don’t mention anything about an ask blog and such. For all you guys know, you’re just some voices coming from a walkie-talkie.

🖤  Don’t interact with this blog if you are truscum/transmed/TERF, racist/n4zi/anti-blm/pro-cop, antisemetic, MAP/pedophile, ableist, homophobic, an lgbt+ exclusionist of any type, or support cringe culture. Just stay away from me please :o)

🖤  Have fun, okie?

———————————————————————

TAGS

🖤  The general tag will be #HLVRPA

🖤  Big plot moments will be tagged with #plot and #HLVRAI

🖤  Any in-character asks will be tagged as #[character].buzz. (Like gordon.buzz for Gordon, coomer.buzz for Dr. Coomer, etc.)

🖤  Any out of character asks will be tagged as #crunch.buzz

🖤  Fanart and the like will be tagged as #precious salvage

🖤  Any triggering things will be tagged as #[trigger] and #[trigger] tw

———————————————————————

[durativo]

Tagging List:

normal tags for ooc: ooc, ignore me, mun speaks

normal dmc tags: all character’s names, Gloria tagged as Trish, Nico is just Nico, not likely to use Nicoletta, dmc or the specified game in the series (i.e. dmc2, dmc5) 

not dmc: will be appropriate fandom tags, character names, and include the phrase ‘not dmc’

art by op: in the spirit of trying to stop reposters, i try to do my best to make sure art is actually created by the OP (original poster) if i am sure of it, I will tag ‘art by op’ but please feel free to correct me if i’m wrong.

headcanons: appropriate tags and usually hc, headcanon, mini headcanon, about dante

triggers: all triggers will be in the form of ____ tw or ____ cw, typically cw is used when the content is mild or vague (i.e. gore tw is intense description of gore and violent imagery, gore cw can be mentions of blood or reference to past incidences, in general, i will rarely use cw, but just in case)

all spardacest falls under incest tw

any sexual reference of any kind will fall under the appropriate tw, and even mentions will be under tw and not cw

for the work that is not safe: nsft is for anything of sexual nature in a thread, i apologize for not using the usual tag, but if i do, the post will be invisible to me when using the “search” feature and it’s very annoying, so i will use nsft (not safe for tumblr) to be able to find what i’m looking for. i apologize in advance.

any oversharing will be: tmi, personal, followed by delete tags

delete tags: tbd, or simply a “delete later”

politics: not gonna happen, but in the very unfortunate case that i must bring them up, the tag will be ‘hellworld’

and for anything i’m UNSURE about: i will use the tag “ask to tag” if i am unsure, this will fluctuate sometimes on my threads, and if it is necessary, feel free to hit me up with a polite request for a tag.

since I’m in the middle of fixing up my blog I figure I post this just for the sake of it, if anything new comes up i’ll be sure to update.