#bonesaws-and-dust

[howi99]

Grimm arc

How is Roman and neo taking the info that the plan has stopped?

Roman: What are we supposed to do? Tell Adam that the attack is not happening?!

Cinder: Exactly

Roman: I'm going to die.

Cinder: Not my problem.

Roman: ... Can i just ditch him and do as if i was never a part of this? I mean, we still haven't been seen.

Cinder: As long as Adam can't get more dust.

Roman: ... Well, Neo, wanna go back to robs banks and NOT kill civilians?

Neo: *ok sign*

Roman: I thought so.

___

Adam: ... I feel like i got scammed.

Bonesaw: I just got a call that Roman and Cinder's crew are out.

Adam: ... BUT WE JUST ARRIVED!? HOW? WHY!?

Bonesaw:... We still have a nice base of operations.

Adam: CHEATED! I GOT CHEATED!

[xxiamtiebrousxx]

Heyo, I was wondering if you could write a medic x reader who’s a psychologist? Basically they were someone else’s(probably scouts) therapist and when medic officially meets them he just falls head over heels.

Of course! This was fun to write! Sorry it took too long though.

A Bit Crazy (Medic x Psychologist! Reader) Tf2 x Reader One shot

As Jeremy’s therapist, it was my job to help him out the best I could. I recently became a therapist. The first thing I did was buy an office above one of Teufort’s corner grocery stores. Jeremy was my first and only patient. I was still new to the job. I wanted to know more about his issues and decided to visit his workplace, which seemed to be the source of most issues. I thought it was a good idea. I was very incorrect. I wasn’t expecting his workplace  to be a battlefield. I guess that’s why he had so many issues. The moment I stepped into the base, I felt the chaos radiating. I did get the feeling someone was watching me the very moment I stepped into the base. 

“Welcome to my home,” Jeremy said, opening the door for me. There was a gravelly scream erupting from the kitchen, followed by the explosion of an oven. I gripped my clipboard. This wasn’t the most suitable home to be living in. There was no order or sense of sanity. “Let me take you to the room you’ll be staying in.” I followed Jeremy through the hallway. My eyes glanced around, catching every little detail about this place. There was blood smeared over a pair of doors as well as bird poop and feathers. What kind of crazy psychopath lived there? The door slammed open. A man with feathers ruffled throughout his dark hair fell past the doors and onto the ground. A few doves flew out.

“Eh, are you alright, sir?” I asked.

“Bad idea,” Jeremy whispered. “If you thought I had problems, just wait until you meet Medic. He’s a loose cannon.” Jeremy took off in a sprint. I sighed, rolling my eyes.

“Sir, are you alright?” I asked again. The man lifted his head up from the floor. He stood up and dusted the feathers out of his hair.

“Did I do it?” he asked. “Did I make it?” What was he rambling about? He patted down his chest and stomach. “Just wondering, is this heaven?” he asked.  “I was expecting more angelic beings, like you, and Tom Jones.” Did he call me an angelic being? Impossible. I was human. I haven’t died just yet.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” I replied. “May I ask what you’re rambling about?” The man smiled. His grin seemed a bit off, like he was insane. Maybe because of this workplace, he was indeed insane.

“I attempted to reach heaven,” he said. “I need to talk to the man in charge about my soul, er, souls. I’m running out and I owe someone else a big debt.” Processing this hurt my brain. What was he talking about? “Hmm, are you sure you’re not an angel?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Sorry sir, I’m not,” I replied. “I’m Jeremy’s therapist. I’m here to help him out.”

“C’mon doc, I’ve gotta show you your room!” Jeremy shouted. His yell echoed through the hallway.

“It seems there’s two doctors in the house,” the man said, grinning. “I’m a doctor as well. It’s a pleasure to meet someone as darling as you.” The compliment sent my heart pounding. He held out his hand, which was drenched in blood. I gasped. The sight was horrifying! But I didn’t say anything at all. I grinned sheepishly and scurried away without a word. “I’ll be seeing you then!” the doctor cried out.

*>/<*

The doctor would not leave me alone. He would sit close to me during meal times and try to hold my hand. Medic would bring me the strangest gifts, like bonesaws or bird feathers.. I was not that kind of doctor. He had to be dragged off to his job by his friend, the Heavy weapons guy. It was quite funny to hear his friends scold him like he was a child. I stayed in the base while Jeremy and his teammates left to do their work as mercenaries. I did not know that until recently. Then again, Jeremy was keeping secrets from me. I planned to spend a few more days before leaving. This household, if you could even call it that, was driving me a bit crazy. There was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” I asked. My eyes never left the pages of the book I was reading. The door opened and Medic popped his head in, with a big grin on his face.

“Are you available?” he asked. I looked at the clock on my stand. It was only five in the evening. I hadn’t done anything all day and I wasn’t going to let the evening be wasted. I closed the book.

“What do you have planned for tonight?” I asked. The doctor’s grin grew larger.

“Just wait and see,” he said. “You won’t regret it!”

*>/<*

I did regret it. I held a shovel in my hand, watching Medic dig up a grave. For what reason was he doing this? This was illegal! I tapped my fingers against the handle. Dirt was thrown upon the pile Medic dug up. He hummed happily, smiling all the way. His smile was a bit cute. I wasn’t afraid to think that, but it caught me off guard that I was thinking about Medic like that. Medic was watching me from the corner of his eye. He stuck the edge of the shovel in the ground and rested his arms on the handle. “May I ask what keeps you deep in thought?” he said. I blushed, breaking eye contact with him. Medic laughed and continued to dig.

“I have no idea what you mean,” I replied.

“I saw you staring at me,” he said. “Did I have something on my face?”

“No,” I said. “I was lost in thought.” Medic pulled out a white bone from the dirt. He held it gingerly. “Ew,” I said, shrinking back from the bone. Medic smiled widely.

“I’ve been looking for this for months!” he exclaimed. “This belongs to the man’s skeleton I stole!” I shivered, knowing the story he mentioned. The food in my stomach churned and twisted around. This was disgusting. Medic noticed I was turning green around the gills. His smile dropped. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m not a big fan of bones,” I replied. “Specifically, bones from people who might still be alive.” Medic threw the bone back into the ground. He climbed out of the hole. “What are you doing?” I asked. Medic wrapped both his arms around me. I blushed a little, gently pulling away. “Uh, thanks, I guess,” I said. The hug was not comforting, but it felt nice.

“Come on, let’s head home,” he said, taking my hand in his. I followed Medic back to his car, a small ambulance which needed a good paint job.

*>/<*

The car ride back home was exhausting. I counted every street light until I reached the fiftieth one. My eyelids were drooping. I was tired and ready to crawl into bed. Medic kept glancing at me the entire drive. He smiled every time our eyes made eye contact. Eventually, he parked the car in front of the base. I watched with a tired gaze as Medic got out of the car and walked around. He opened the door for me. “Permission to carry you to bed?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I tiredly answered. I unbuckled my seat. Medic gently placed both his arms under mine and dragged me off my seat. He then lifted my legs up, carrying me like a bride. I wrapped both my arms around his neck. “Are we there yet?” I asked. Medic chuckled.

“Not yet,” he replied. He opened the door by kicking it open. Jeremy and his friends were watching TV in the living room. No one said a word. Maybe it was because Medic was glaring at them, like he threatened to rip out their souls. We came upon my bedroom door. Medic placed me back on the ground and opened the door.

“Thank you,” I said, standing in the dark doorway. “I had fun tonight, even if it was a bit gruesome.” Medic smiled.

“I’m glad you enjoyed our time together,” he said. “Would it be alright to see you again?” I laughed.

“Silly, you see me all the time,” I answered. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, looking nervously around.

“I didn’t mean that,” Medic said. “I meant if you would go out with me again.” Soft red spread around my face, slightly warming my skin.

“That sounds fine,” I replied, smiling. Medic blushed deeply. I held out my hand, which he shook. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” he said, leaning down and kissing my cheek. I watched with a grin as he walked away. He was a bit crazy and that’s what I loved about him.

Random A/n: How many of you have thought of eating your hand whole?

[thegreatandpowerfulversy]

The four stages of "Amy Dallon did nothing wrong":

Stage 1: Completely unaware.

At first, you have never heard of Worm, and don't know who anyone is. As such, you can't possibly judge someone since you have no idea what she may or may not have done. You give everyone the benefit of the doubt and say that Amy Dallon did nothing wrong.

Stage 2: Vague awareness.

You know what Worm is now, and have heard some names enough times to get a very general sense of who the characters are, even if you still have no idea what really happens beyond "everything is really fucked up". However, that's enough to recognize that Amy seems to be a reasonably major character based on how often people talk about her, and she seems to be allied with the protagonist Taylor. Given that Worm is a story where nobody is 100% morally pure, you figure Amy probably did a few bad things but they were justifiable, so it's not much of a stretch to say Amy Dallon did nothing wrong.

Stage 3: Fandom knowledge.

At this point, you follow at least a few people who do regular wormposting, and you've heard of a decent number of plot points and can understand most memes that don't involve very minor characters. You know exactly what Amy is famous for, because the fandom has some strong opinions about it. Most reasonable people hate her. Wildbow hates her. And so, you solemnly dust off the ancient memes and you say: much like Vriska before her, Amy Dallon Did Nothing Wrong.

Stage 4: Canon knowledge.

Maybe you've actually, finally, read Worm by now. Or maybe, like me, you were missing two players from your D&D game and decided to make a Worm-themed oneshot for the people who were left, and you were going to play Amy as a DM-PC but when you ran the character by a friend she said "that sounds more like Bonesaw" so instead you decided to play a plural system of both of them for extra psychic damage, and then said friend told you the actual details of Amy's arc as it really happens, without all the usual fandom judgement attached, and so you're now an expert in this one girl in particular but not the rest.

What the hell, you think upon seeing the full story. That's not what the fandom made it sound like. What do you mean she's not actually related to Victoria? What do you mean the mind control was an accident, and for everything that followed, nobody involved was even remotely sane and able to reason about the situation? You know now that the world has failed Amy, not the other way around, and that most of the fault you would have ascribed to her rightfully lies with almost everyone else in her life instead.

Oh my god, you realize. Amy Dallon really did do almost nothing purposefully wrong.

[girlwonderers]

scribbled something short, playing with a character voice for my new pathfinder character for an upcoming kingmaker campaign

—

Early in my second century with the Knights of Ozem—as we were known then—there was an undead incursion along the Hordeline, where a sealed barrow had been disturbed by the engineers working to repair our fortifications. These were common; the bone-tyrant had left so many desecrated corpses, sown across the land like weeds, designed to spring up and choke us out. The barrow was filled with mummies, maybe brought down from Sarkoris; they were half-dust already when they crawled from their coffins. Wouldn't have been a problem if Aroden hadn't gone and bloody died and left half our clerics without any magic to speak of.

Aye, I remember Aroden's death—it wasn't that long ago, by elven measure. The First Travellers know better than most that immortality is never promised, not even to the gods.

So do the Knights, for that matter; just look at poor Arazni. Aroden didn't seem to give a damn when his beloved herald was murdered. It was our soldiers who laid her to rest, and who mourned her when her body was taken and desecrated by Geb. Can't blame her for being pissed about it when he had the bad manners to bring her back.

The loss of Aroden's divine patronage had hit us harder than any orcs or undead could, in those years. We lost more knights in the decade after Aroden's death than in thirty years before, just for a lack of healers. That was when we forged our tightest bonds with Rahadoum, thank the gods for their medics—granted they'd deck me for saying so.

It was a Rahadoumi healer, a lad named Fikri, who went with us to the Hordeline. Absolute bastard but one of the best herbalists I've ever known. Nothing short of the gods' own miracles could have saved us from the mummy rot, though. The shamblers were pathetic but there were dozens of them, and by the time we'd cut one down two more had gotten their claws in you.

My sword arm got the worst of it; mummies aren't half as mindless as you might assume, and they'd grab my arm to gouge through my leathers while my blade was buried in their comrades' bellies. By the time Fikri got to it the skin up to my elbow was already withered like rotted fruit. There was a sorcerer with us, some cassie with angel blood who said it might be saved if we made it back to Vigil. Bless him, Fikri was already reaching for his bonesaw.

Maybe his elven sensibilities showing through: where the rot lives, excise it. First rule of garden-rearing, first rule of shambler-hunting, and apparently first rule of Rahadoumi field surgery. We children of Lastwall always remember our charge, after all: to prevent the rise of Tar-Baphon and his minions by any means, with any sacrifice. Stop the spread. Cut out the curse.

The new arm holds up well, anyway, and the fingers don't stiffen in the cold like the left ones do.

I'd give any part of me. Anything. Everything. All I could cut away. Excision is necessary for the health of the whole.

[lakesbian]

“Hey!” the girl turned, her response eerily like she was greeting a friend she hadn’t seen for a while.  She wasn’t wearing her helmet, but the frizz of her hair stuck to her head with light sweat.  She had a smile on her face and moist eyes.  “Hey, can you tell Parian to leave me alone for five seconds?  I made a mistake, and every second counts.” “There’s been a death,” Chicken Little said.  He held his mask, and his birds were sticking closer to him.  Some stuck close to Kenzie and her now-vacant chair, and she barely seemed aware of them. “Teeny-tiny bit of a death,” Lookout said.  “And I’ve been so zeroed-in on things that I didn’t even see it.  Not like me, right?  Ha ha, and it’s actually kind of important that I missed stuff, because if I’m going to do anything about it, I need to have been tracking the data’s movements through the crystals since fifteen minutes ago.”

oh there is something WRONG with her i LIKE her. picking her up and plonking her into my Collection Of Little Guys From Parahumans between bonesaw and the pile of dust that used to be alec

[wingedquill]

soulscream

whumptober day 1 | alternative prompt: "broken" | word count: 1572

fandom: Stranger Things | characters: Steve and Robin | cw: daemon-related torture, major character death (ish) | tags: daemon au, unhappy ending (for now)

Robin will hate herself forever for it, but part of her sees the whole “getting kidnapped and slapped around by Russian guards” thing as a big fucking adventure, a wild story that she’ll be able to tell people when they ask her how she spent her summer, right up until they start beating Steve’s daemon.

And then everything gets really real, really fast.

Her ears start ringing after the first hit, like it’s her they’ve just suckerpunched instead of Steve’s fucking soul, and all of her clever plans of a glorious escape turn to static in her brain. Steve screams, short and agonized, and she can feel his whole body spasming against her.

They’re tied back to back. She can see Estella but he can’t, he couldn’t even see the blow coming.

This isn’t happening. This isn’t—this isn’t something that happens.

The guard draws back his arm again. The baton comes back down. Steve screams again, somehow louder.

“Who do you work for?” the guard asks, swinging the baton back and forth like a batter getting ready to hit a home run. He sounds almost bored. Like this is something he does every day. Like this is normal.

“I—I don’t—” Steve gasps. “I don’t—please—please no—”

Another whistle of air, another crack. Estella whines, high and animal-like, like she’s a real dog. The general laughs from somewhere behind her.

“They start leaking Dust, after a while,” he says. “I’ve always found it a pretty sight. Most disagree. I will not have my men stop when you start to dissolve, Butterscotch. Who. Do you. Work. For?”

“No one,” Steve sobs. “No one, please—”

Another swing. Another. Another, another, another, too fast for Robin to track, too fast for her to distinguish them.

“Stop!” she hollers. “Stop, we don’t know anything, we’re just kids, he doesn’t…he didn’t do anything to you, stop!”

“Would you rather we ask your hummingbird?” the general snorts. The guard lifts his foot, lets it hover over Estella’s paw. “You did spit at me, after all. You did something.”

Achilles curls up against her chest, whole body vibrating like a tiny heart. God if they started…if they started hitting him…one strike of that baton would be enough to kill him, to kill her.

The guard crushes his foot down. Gold starts to seep out from underneath it, pooling over the floor like dry ice smoke. Steve’s whole body contracts, jolting so hard that for a moment Robin thinks he’ll knock them both over.

“Please,” Robin whispers, watching helplessly as Steve’s soul bleeds all over the cold tile floor. “Please.”

It’s all either of them can say for the next—hour she thinks? Longer? Steve stops screaming at some point, stops struggling against her. If it weren’t for the feeling of his breaths, and Estella’s long, continuous whimpers, she’d think he was dead.

“Stop,” the general says eventually, when there’s a veritable pool of Dust around Estella, bright and gleaming as a firework. Fuck, they were supposed to be watching the fireworks today, they were supposed to steal a gallon of ice cream out of the freezer and lug it up the big hill behind the mall, they were supposed to be goddamn children about it—

“You are very good at keeping quiet,” he says, and there’s rustling behind her. Steve’s warmth disappears from her back, and then she’s being hauled upwards, hands gripping her arms. She doesn’t fight them. She doesn’t want to give them any more excuses to—god there were knives on the fucking table, and pliers, and a fucking bonesaw, and she doesn’t know if the Russians are planning on using them on her, or Steve, or Estella, and—

“Most men would have spilled everything by now,” the general continues as his men bully Robin forward, and she can finally, finally make eye contact with Steve.

He’s conscious. Standing. But there’s something horribly, horribly wrong with his eyes.

They’re shuttered. Or empty. Or gone, or—

“Steve,” she croaks, trying to reach for him. One of the men yanks her arms back, hissing a command in Russian in her ear.

“But you’d let us break you without answering the most basic question. So either you are a better spy than any man I’ve ever trained, or you truly are just a know-nothing child.”

He tuts, almost sympathetically. Behind Robin, there’s a rattling of chains, a loud whine, the sound of a body being dragged over the floor. Steve twitches, tears slipping from his empty eyes as he’s finally able to see what they’ve done to him. Estella makes a noise like a sob, legs twitching as she tries to gather them underneath her.

She fails. They keep dragging her like a sack of meat, smearing gold across the tiles. Bile sloshes in Robin’s stomach.

“For what it’s worth,” the general says, shoving Steve towards the door. He stumbles over his own feet, whole body hunched over in pain. “I do hope it’s the former. I truly do. But either way…either way we are out of time to ask you things. But worry not. We will learn something from you nonetheless.”

“What are you gonna do to me?” Steve croaks.

Me. Not us. Robin wonders if the thought of them hurting her is so unthinkable Steve hasn’t even considered it, or if he’s trying to keep them from realizing it's a possibility.

“You have seen our accomplishments, yes?” the general says. He parades them out of the cell, one hand on Steve’s shoulder like he might try to run. Like he wouldn’t get a bullet in the soul for trying. “You have seen the rift. We believe there is another world on the other side, and we would like very much for our scientists to explore that world. But there are many possible dangers that we do not yet know how to prepare for.”

“So you wanna throw me in?” 

Steve doesn’t sound like he’s discussing the concept of being thrown into a fucking hellworld with his torturer. He sounds like he’s asking his fucking basketball coach if he really wants him to play the second half.

“No,” the general laughs. “No. We do not want to see what you might get up to unmonitored. But there is a test you may help us with.”

If she were a hero, Robin would tell them to do it to her. She would tell them that Steve had had enough. She would tell them that they’d already broken him.

But she’s not a hero. She’s not a hero, and she’s watching a daemon bleed on the ground, and this doesn’t fucking happen. So her vocal cords stay frozen shut, and Achilles stays safe against her heart, and she does nothing to stop whatever’s about to happen to Steve.

They push through another set of doors and there’s the rift. Most of it looks just as it had before, a violent mess of red and black spreading over the wall like a disgusting fungus, but there’s an opening right in the middle. Not quite big enough for a person.

“I’m told we finally broke through while we were having our…discussion,” the general says. He inclines his head, and the two men holding Estella start dragging her over to a massive cage on the end of a chain. “And so you get to assist us with our first, and most important test. To make sure the daemonic bond can survive unscathed between dimensions.”

“No,” Steve whispers, glancing between the cage and the rift. “No, you—what’s that gonna do?”

“We don’t know,” the general says. “Hopefully nothing.”

Steve looks at her wildly as the guards bundle Estella into the cage. Help me. Do something. She can read that as clear as if he said it.

But she can’t move. She can’t speak. Her feet are frozen to the floor and her tongue is glued to her mouth. She’s a bug encased in amber, and she can do nothing but watch as the two guards hoist Estella’s cage between them.

“Steve,” the daemon groans, Dust spilling from her mouth like vomit. “I love—”

The guards hurl the cage forward, right through the opening in the rift.

Robin stands there.

Steve’s knees buckle.

“Get her out,” he gasps. “Get her out, get her—get her out, get her out, fucking get her out of there!”

The general barks an order and the two guards scramble for the chain. Steve collapses entirely, limbs jerking and thrashing against his binds.

“Get her out!” he wails. “Please, dear God, get her—”

And he just…stops.

All at once, like the power’s been cut to his brain. His limbs stop jerking, his eyes stop rolling. He goes completely and utterly still.

Robin stands there.

The general leans down, presses his fingers against Steve’s jugular. Frowns.

“Playing dead will not work with me, Butterscotch,” he says.

Robin stands there.

The two guards haul the cage back out of the void. It’s empty.

Everything freezes for a minute. The general stares at the cage, and for the first time in this entire fucked-up ordeal, Robin thinks she catches a flash of guilt in her eyes.

He murmurs something under his breath.

Robin will spend the next week pouring over Russian dictionaries and anthropological texts to learn both the phrase and the meaning behind it. When she does, it won’t tell her anything she doesn’t already know.

Living broken. 

Severed.

Steve is severed. His soul is dead. He'll be an empty shell for the rest of his life.

And Robin just stands there.

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

“No,” Tattletale shook her head.  “She wouldn’t have used the dust and the darts if that was the big reveal.  It doesn’t make sense tactically, because we could have come up with a way to deal, and Skitter’s partially immune anyways.  And it doesn’t make sense artistically, either.  You have to think of her as less of a scientist or doctor and more of a performer.”

She's not even a performer, she's just a deluded freakshow. Don't give Bonesaw that much credit.

[chiropteracupola]

flintlock fortress: the lads get smallpox inoculations as a teambonding exerci - moonon

this is probably the fic that I have been putting the most time into lately! it is being very difficult but also very very fun since I am now having to juggle the flaming chain-saws of not one, not two, but fully seven of tf2's Weird As Hell character voices! and transpose them effectively to some two hundred years in the past!

so one thing about your local emmothy is that I think that eighteenth smallpox inoculation procedures are the coolest thing on the planet. and also since I have learned that the dinner table is not a suitable location for discussing such things, I have concocted an entire section of flintlock fortress in which Em Tells You Medical History Funfacts. and since due to the nature of flintlock fortress, it should be something other than that, it is also a story about most of the team meeting ansel for the first time. ...he doesn't make a very good first impression.

readmore here since i'm handing over about half the fic :]

“If we’ve all got to do this, then where’re the fop and the…” Mundy gestured to his face, making the shape of a pair of goggles and a mask. “That one.”

“Prometheus and M. Laurent will not be requiring my services today.” Ludwig picked at one fingernail, shaving away minuscule flecks of dust — Jeremiah could tell he had little patience for Mundy’s attempt at stalling. “You five, on the other hand, have been lucky enough thus far in your lives as to have avoided any notable infection of the smallpox. However, our employers require that that not remain the case.” That was one small blessing — no sour-faced Frenchman to scoff and sneer at him while the doctor sliced him up for spare parts. Jeremiah took a deep breath — the air free of Laurent’s too-flowery tobacco smoke — and let go the white-knuckle grip he’d established on the edge of the bench. “It is better to, as you so succinctly say, put you out of commission all at once, and in a timely manner, so as to avoid any unexpected surprises later!” Ludwig reached up and patted Mundy’s cheek as if congratulating a particularly slow child. The marksman looked utterly indignant, but Ludwig pressed on, his cheer undiminished. “Now, who’s first?” With his free hand, he whisked the cloth away from a tray of wicked-looking implements, sleek steel blades glittering atop a rather stained scrap of canvas. His hand danced over them as he made a selection, pausing to caress the well-polished handle of a gleaming bonesaw. Jeremiah twitched. Beside him, he felt Conagher sit up straighter, suddenly tense, and noticed the tendons on the back of Degroot’s hand stand out as he gripped his bottle tighter. The doctor looked up at them again, his chipper mood seemingly lessened somewhat by their evident stress. Then he laughed, a high-pitched caw, and let the bonesaw go. “Do not worry about your remaining limbs! I intend only to make one incision — and a quite small one at that.”

[collective-remnants-rwby]

Let's try a full team. Bram Stoker's Dracula, Frankenstein, The Mummy and the Wolfman. Doesn't matter which one the leader is.

These guys are mercenaries, not exactly villains but hardly on the side of the angels. I remember seeing a depiction of Universal Monsters as an Atlesian Suicide Squad, so that but with slightly better morals and unbeholden to any government.

Dracula: Tick Faunus with semi chitinous skin. Pretends to be a devious mastermind two steps ahead of everyone else, actually flying by the seat of his pants.

Weapon is a Chinese fire arrow rocket combined with a crossbow & a minigun called Staker, and duel sabers known as the Fangs. Semblance is Intrusive Thought, planting an idea in another's head that keeps nagging at them, reinforced by repeated mentions of said idea.

Colours are red wine and charcoal black, dresses like a "distinguished gentleman" despite being a gutter child that worked his way up in the world.

Frankenstein: I was actually mentally tinkering with this when I got the ask...and accidentally came up with TF2 Medic. I'm only somewhat sorry.

Her Semblance, Defibrillator, is an electricity fueled healing ability that can be used at range, while her weapon, Chirurgeon, is a simple, if terrifying, "surgical" chainsaw alongside some "holdout" scalpels .

Colours are white & blue, dresses more like a butcher/1800's surgeon than mad scientist. Personality wise, combine Gene Wilder's Frankenstein and Bonesaw from Worm. Depending on her age, definitely a deadbeat mom.

Mummy: Vacuan, quiet type, the spiritual sort and fond of archaeology. A dancer of some variety.

Her Semblance, Thaumaturgy, allows her to animate and reinforce inanimate objects, mainly used in conjuction with her weapon, a series of Dust infused cloth bandages known as the Sandlashers.

Colours are gold & purple, and wears her bandages loosely over hip hop/dancer's clothes, and passively uses her semblance to free up her movement and enhance dance performances or appear more intimidating.

Werewolf: Wolf Faunus, wolf tail. The illegitimate child of some prominent family, carries a grudge about how they treated him and his mother.

Carries two different weapons. The first is a hunting rifle/mace called Wolf's Bane, his family's ancestral weapon which he stole. His personal weapons are simply called The Claws, wrist mounted wolverine claws combined with Deadshot's wrist guns. His Semblance, Hunter's Mark, induces a "bleeding" effect that more easily bleeds Aura and allows him to track those hit.

Colours are silver & purple. Dresses like a gravedigger or a "ruffled" high class person despite knowing the in and outs of high society, real contrast to his leader in this aspect. Sympathetic to the White Fang.

Like I said, none of these guys are exactly heroes. Can they be well meaning? Yes. Can they ruin your life if you anger them? Most definitely.

...I like this, I'm gonna do more of these.

[Part 2]

[weirdsatellites]

IMINT #951 from GPS III-SV05 (UNCLASSIFIED) 1. Cursed Dust Tank 2. Marble Pallets of Bonesaws 3. Sovereign Speedrun Anomaly

[fartibaba-real-saw-jeffeptsien]

watching a movie with my friends and its really hot but its pretty good cuz we gonna get pizza in like half an hour and I am on my computer doing homework but not really cuz I'm on tumblr and we were watching inception but we got bored so we now watching eric andre and then we stopped it to take a break cuz its hot but another friend came with a fan and now its slightly cooler but its still really hot I mean why do some times of the year be hot like omg can we get some air conditioning like come on well anyway tumbler is fun cuz I can do whatever and booba in my dms I wonder if shes single but idk I have negative rizz PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE so we gonna watch bonesaw its a really good movie with lots of plot welp now the tv went into sleep mode and eric andre isn't on anymore wow I really need to do my homework also my mouse sounds like a space blaster and the door to the room is open to try to cool it off but its not working the fan is helping a little tho idk my nicotine tastes good but it makes me sad welp my name is john kramer and I live at 204 negra arroyo lane albequrque new Mexico and yup that's my real address pls come sent pizza cats are really cool I like them they make funny sounds like meow and mrrp and stuff like that dogs are dumb they don't make funny sounds except boof and stuff like that welp actually it got a little cooler for a split second damn tumblr wheres the character limit my god this is taking forever my Grammarly is begging me to stop also my fingers are starting to hurt a little bit more i mean prolly my arthritis i mean like soup that gives you arthritis and stuff like that also there is the beach that makes your dick fall off and start talking to you that's a line from a movie we watched a while ago this guys dick falls off cuz he took the pill that gives you cancer and his dick fell off and started talking to him anyway guys this is my fanfiction I wrote it myself its about the gay love between lucario and john kramer from saw so it all begins in the woods where john is walking his brain tunmor and he hears something in the woods and he goes and follows the noises and its lucario he is stuck in the tree and john is like omg no way lucario and lucario is like lucario so john helps him get out of the tree but lucario falls down and hits his arm with a loud thud and hes like omg jiksaw no way i love your show and john is like omg tysm and lucario is like what can i ever do to repay you for letting me out of this tree and john is like idk so lucario pulls down johns pants and says i just thought of something and johns old man cock is all flopsy and his pubes are like an old asian man wiht a long beard and lucario sucks off john and john is like ooo ooo aa aaa feels so good and lucario is like schlurp schlurp and john cums but its all dust because hes old and all old men cum dust and john is now in the mood so he turns around and says to lucario to take him so lucario gets hard he has a 9inch red rocket cock and he puts it in john but its not very tight because hes old so it kinda just goes in really easy and lucario is thrusting in and out of john and its really hot and john has a backwards baseball cap on and lucario knots him and john does an aheago face and lucario fills up john with cum and makes his stomach bulge so a few minutes later the knot comes out and john passes out cuz he eepy and lucario smirks and is like thats why they call me the steamroller and phases into nothingness like he was never even there john still waits to this day for lucario to come back but he doesnt know if he ever will so that was my fanfiction guys i hope you like it it took me a few months to write in betwwen my classes so yeah pls like and subscribe also its still hot as fuck in this room but the fan is helping a little bit ok according to google i have only a few hundred more characters left so i will leave you with the wordle answers for the next few days i know them cuz my dad works at the york times and knows all the wordle answers so here you guys go the worlde answers for the next days are

[bcncwcary]

bonesaws-and-dust replied to your photo

BECAUSE YOUR ART IS WONDERFUL! Also I follow you on twitter ya goof ♥

I mean I know that but I still???              Don’t get it?????

[memeshero]

Nothing like drawing a bunch of kitty ocs to help bring you out of a slump

Take a good look cause I’m never drawing all of them together again

Asabi belongs to @crawlingonyourback

Jubatu belongs to @bonesaws-and-dust

Leo and Yokai belongs to @lordtypos

The rest of them belong to me. Takara, Margarita, Armand and Malaee (yes i mad another one.......someone needs to stop me)

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[boner-cake-admin]

How 'bout them Edge tiddies tho

hell yes

[danevelkan]

Artrade With @bonesaws-and-dust .Their Oc: Grafick, My Oc H!Pap: https://bonesaws-and-dust.tumblr.com/post/174443373629/my-half-of-a-trade-with-kingbenther-c-such-a

Thank you So Much For doing this Artrade with me. Your Artstyle is Absolutely amazing and i love the way you draw Papyruses. Here’s your lovely Oc Grafick, I Hope you Like it!!!

[psiklaus-art]

@bonesaws-and-dust little gift pin up for a sweetie pally ewe