#brokenbladesandfaces

[ratwhsprs]

@brokenbladesandfaces || cont.

The day someone actually caught one of the references in his rats’ names, he'd give them ten bucks if he had it. (Socrates, for example, was a reference to the movie Willard.) But no one had gotten it yet, so the ten dollars was still his.

A couple of his older rats didn't care for the… clinical scent that clung to her, but he silently assured them that this shouldn't take long.

He hummed behind his mask. Her associates were right: the only one who knew the sewers better was probably Waylon Jones, and he could be harder to reach than Otis himself. 

 “One question: is the guy we're looking for dead or alive? Or do you not know?”

[arcanescholxr]

Continued from here @brokenbladesandfaces

Dwight groans softly as his eyes adjust to this new environment. His vision spins slightly before it eventually settles. The first thing that he notices is someone looming over him. Well, it appears to be more than one of the same person. Dwight attempts to sit up but a wave of pain cracks against his forehead and he lays back down with a groan. He tries to keep up with what’s being said. ‘Where am I?’ Dwight thinks to himself.

“Um, my name is Dwight Blackburn and…I don’t know, is this a clinic or?” Dwight cranes his head to get a better look of his surroundings.

[brokentoys]

the tortured poets // accepting // @brokenbladesandfaces sent . . . "i should've known it was a matter of time."

His hand was stained red from the bullet that's lodged into his side — it burned stronger than a cigarette pressed against the skin. He hadn't a clue if it had struck his kidney or not, ( oh, he prayed it hadn't. )

Eddie came to her because he knew the regular doctors at the ER would've called the police, && he refused to go back to ARKHAM ASYLUM.

❝ What ? ❞ He asked through gritted teeth, wincing from the pain. ❝ That THE RIDDLER would grace your presence, in need of your help ? ❞

[zaunrising]

wicked sentence starters (for Jinx):

"No one mourns the wicked."

Jinx had fully been intending to mind her business. The dull depression that had settled over her, and the static filled itch in her ears making her care about little unless adrenaline was suddenly involved, had decreased her habit of randomly shoving herself into others affairs. Zaun was what it was, and with Silco, as far as she knew, gone and dead, Jinx found it hard to care.

Her fault he was gone and dead.

JiNX, JuST A jInX. To US AnD EvERYoNE YoU ARe aEOuND!

Lips parting should have whispered, but nothing emerged as she mentally responded to someone only she could hear. ‘Shut up Mylo.’ As much as the voices still got to her, some days Jinx just did not have the energy to care. Maybe it was her mind fucking with her, maybe Zaun did have ghosts, who knows. Regardless, she just wanted to get to a particular food stall, get something to eat, and leave. An idea that was shifted as suddenly a voice hit her ears. A voice with a very specific comment. ‘No one mourns the wicked.’ She should have just kept walking, but something about that made her eyes narrow, and a shiver of irritation slither up her spine. Smoothly she turned, and immediately turned on the ‘look at me, I’m young and happy and smiling’ persona as her hood slid down enough to reveal blue hair and shimmer tinted eyes.

Lean down and forward just a touch, tilt head, look up with big shining eyes and a sweet smile. She couldn’t kill a soul, she was just a strange young seeming sweet girl roaming the streets of Zaun, right? Although be it due to her reputation, or because of the deadly preciseness of how she moved like the gears in a timer for a bomb set to go off, more often then not it was a touch off-putting if not down right creepy. An effect that amused, and entertained her. When she was in a better mood, anyways. “Why’d ya say that? I mean, everyyyone down here has someone to mourn! And, pfff, talk to some Piltie with a stick up their ass, and we all wicked. So…” Eyes narrowing a bit, Jinx studied the other figure. “Why?” And who got to decide who the “wicked” was anyways?

Silco’s hands might have been blood coated, but so were hers. And at least his hands had held her.

[iobartach]

@brokenbladesandfaces // short thing starter

He hadn't been to this part of Zaun before, off the beaten track and down a side passage, where few few inhabitants of the Lanes were seen to tread. Which suited him just fine, for he had needed to put some distance between himself and the undercity's chemical choked streets. But, what Miguel hadn't realised was, in his efforts to keep a low profile, he would stumble against a different crime, already in motion.

If the putrid smell of rot and blood that permeated the stale air was any indication, at least.

Regretting that he hadn't stopped to haggle with a merchant for a respirator mask, he drew in a breathe and cautiously held onto it as he walked around a corner, nose buried in the crook of a robed arm as he saw it. A crimson smear, that dyed the ground as it spread. Significant in size, whilst also being... fresh.

"What could've happened here...?" Speaking in a careful murmur, much of what the putrid one's acolyte had to say was absorbed by the tattered robes that dangled from spindly arms, more focused on establishing certain details than avenging whoever had perished here. To do so would go against instructions received. For he was meant to gather potential devotees, not kill them before they'd even gotten a glimpse of the Shadow Isles.

Thankfully, though, due in part to a rare stroke of luck, the sound of what appeared to be a tool rolling off a bench nearby generates a loud enough clamour that his head whips around to focus on it, showing off coals of blood-red hues, glinting in the shade provided by his hood.

"Stop. Who goes there? Were you responsible for this?"

[mad-hunts]

Hidden Injuries: "...Wait. You're bleeding." It wasn't a question.

in barton's point of view, some people were just naturally better adept at hiding whenever they were struggling. and although it wasn't exactly anything to boast about... until the moment miriel informed him he was bleeding, barton thought that might just include him. something must've happened to reopen the wounds on his wrist — ones that he'd been under the impression were healing well, but apparently not — however.

and now, barton had to come up with some excuse as to why he had them because he couldn't tell miriel the actual one. he supposed his stitches reopening might've had something to do with the fact he was doing heavy-lifting. that put pressure on the sutures after all. but barton could take care of it, he thought, no assistance from his fellow doctor necessary. especially because barton was currently at his clinic.

of course something ordinary like moving boxes had created this situation; leading to barton having to hold back a frustrated sigh by gnawing on his bottom lip instead. the box he held was put down unceremoniously, whilst he saw that there was blood running down his hand and staining his sweater red. ❝ ahh, it seems you're right, miriel. thank you for pointing that out to me. ❞ barton turned his back to the other and pulled up his sleeve, only to walk over to the sink to wash off the blood.

'please don't question me about it' was the primary thing running through his mind as, when he finally hit the two cuts in his wrists with the water. it felt almost torturous to have to hold them underneath the water next — barton soon switching the faucet off as it felt like he could feel his pulse through them. a strained chuckle left his lips, then, whilst he grabbed the emergency sutures he kept in the front of his clinic.

❝ i was helping my son with a woodworking project about a week ago, and as you can see, some thing's went wrong with it. i cut myself pretty badly with the wood. but anyways, you were saying something about visiting a medical conference sometime soon? ❞

[pushspacetocontinue]

💔, 💘

Three of Russell's negative traits is that he's very insecure about a lot of things (mainly stuff about himself). He also also finds it very hard to stick up for himself and can be very hard on himself while defending his friends and/or found family without hesitation. He also won't speak up about things that are bothering him (such as a flirty customer giving him the creeps because he didn't want to assume malicious intent) because he doesn't want to be 'rude' or 'difficult', or things that may become a problem (like the time a car he rented made a suspicious noise which he didn't talk about and tried to drive anyway, only for it to break down in the middle of nowhere), for fear of coming across as a burden. He also can be very secretive about a lot of things to strangers, which most likely makes him seem suspicious, especially combined with the fact that he's not above using underhanded tactics in certain situations.

The most important people in Russell's life are the friends he's made and found family he's found and built, along with Misty, his pet cat. He will guard and defend all those people with his life if it ever comes down to that.

[mxchineherald]

🖼⚱️

[ask meme here.]

🖼 :: In Viktor's home, there are only two framed photos. One is of him and Jayce at the construction site for the first Hexgate, they're shoulder to shoulder, with Jayce wrapping his arm around Viktor's back, and Viktor leaning against him with a small smile. The second is a very old, worn down tin photo of his parents at their coupling. Anya is dressed in an embroidered white dress with lace sleeves, while Yugo is in a very obviously borrowed suit, ill-fitting on his wide frame. Both are grinning with glee at their fresh union.

⚱️ :: Viktor's decor is mainly Zaunian, with tapestries dotting the walls, and glass and metal vases on the shelves. There is an oxalis plant on his kitchen windowsill, gifted to him by Sky when she first joined the Hextech Project.

[king-crane]

Word Association Game: "Endings"

"Finality." He whispers, his lips forming around the word with trouble. The burn scars on his cheek flare up, a phantom pain burning within him still, smothering him. "It is the ultimate fear. A terror so intrinsic to all of creation that the ultimate goal of all life is to avoid it - after all, death itself is not what we fear, nor is it the opposite of life. It is nothingness. The absence of any life at all. For a corpse may still grow, change, transmute, may still support life and participate in the cycle. But the soul... when it has perished, it is the end. The cessation of all. Immortals shall never know the terror that grips one faced with finality, and they are weaker for it. The superhumans above think that they know fear. They think they fear death. But I fear nothingness. That... pain? The pain that accompanies the end of the life? Oh, I'd welcome it - anything is preferable." He swallows thickly. Perhaps a part of him knows that his own continued existence can be attributed only to his frantic running from fate - or, perhaps, due to the favor of some unknowable being. "Endings... are to be avoided. At all costs."

[halfdent]

MIRIEL ROSEN 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝙳 :

❛  whatever happens, keep the lights on.  ❜

❝  Don't  get  tellin'  us  now  ,  lady  ,  that'cher  afraid  of  the  dark ? ❞  Of  course  he's  just  being  derogatory  .  Under  the  knife  ,  he  doesn't  appreciate  the  blaring  light  shone  into  his  eyes  ,  as  though  the  one  doesn't  already  cause  irritation  ,  floaters  on  a  good  day  .

Snarl  directed  to  that  latter  scarred  face  ,  albeit  hers  were  neater  than  plethora  of  deep  &&  hideous  ridges  that  decorated  the  left  of  his  face  .

❝  Listen  ,  I  don't  know  what  HARV  told  ya  but  I  didn't  ask  for  this  shit  so's  I  don't  plan  on  stayin'  under  this  friggin'  light  ,  yer  hear  ?  ❞  It  seems  that  he  has  taken  the  place  of  his  host  for  the  time  being  .  A  clear  division  between  the  two  personalities  .  HARVEY  wished  to  erase  the  scars  that  had  awoken  𝐓𝐖𝐎-𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄  ,  while  𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐒  ;  he's  afraid  that  the  destruction  of  their  symbiotic  balance  of  order  &&  chaos  would  𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐄  𝐇𝐈𝐌  .  &&  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓  𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍  . / @brokenbladesandfaces .

[ratwhsprs]

Moral questions to develop a villainous character: - Can you forgive someone who has wronged you, or do you seek revenge? - Would you betray an ally to further your plans?

Moral Questions || Accepting!

Answered!

“Sure. If they've stabbed me in the back first. It's usually just me and my rats, I've got no “grand schemes” to betray people over.”

“...but I was working with a small gang who thought they could threaten me and my rats into staying on after I'd gotten tired of taking their orders. A few weeks later I caught wind of Black Mask's men coming in to clear them out, and I keep that bit of information to myself. When Roman finally does come in, I send my rats in too to help them take out my old employers, and it worked.”

Otis didn't take such risks unless he KNEW he could benefit from it with little to no repercussions.

[arcanescholxr]

ZODIAC HEADCANONS: TAURUS . ≻ what is your muse's most prized possession ?

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 . ( a collection of headcanon prompts based on each zodiac sign . Taurus> what is your muse’s most prized possession?

Dwight has a locket around his neck with a photo of his mother. It’s something that he treasured greatly, and it’s usually stuffed underneath his sweaters and cardigans just in case.

[brutalmasks]

Blood-related prompts:

“  there’s something fascinating about blood.  it’s captivating. ”

people often say that green is supposed to be the color of life. but bunny mask had reason to disagree with that notion, personally. red was the one thing that connected all forms of it... wasn't it? it was the color of new beginnings, of violent ends. and most perpetually, the color of blood. it also was one of the things that connected bunny mask herself to humanity, interestingly enough. she looked down at the site in which the other (whom was a doctor, she learned as recent as today) pricked her then.

it really was interesting yet unfair how, despite there being eight main blood types and thus, humans having to 'match' theirs when getting a blood transfusion — bunny masks' couldn't even be identified among the eight. i mean, much less be given to the person she saved. it made her feel somewhat like she failed the woman; but seeing as she was created this way, was this really her fault? bunny mask flexed her clawed fingers momentarily while she pondered how to respond to miriel. in the end, a nod is what she decided to start with to let the doctor know she heard her.

then came those strangely expressive, glowing white eyes darting over to miriel. bunny thought about everything she touched upon regarding the blood transfusion and tilted her head afterward, ❝ you know, with the complexities you described regarding the antigens in blood, i am inclined to agree. plus... the fact that you can freeze blood without it completely breaking down is extraordinary. i had no idea what you were pulling out for the woman i saved. the intravenous bag just looked like it only had a bunch of tiny, red dots until you thawed it out. ❞

bunny mask sounded genuinely mystified by this concept. she never could've suspected doing that was possible. for, not even tyler, a doctor whom she knew intimately had mentioned doing such a thing to her. but then again, that isn't exactly the type of thing to come up in casual conversation. bunny cleared her throat and looked off to the woman she saved once more then.

❝ do you believe that she will make a full recovery? because i do feel terrible that i was not able to help her sooner, but by the time i got to the alleyway... serena (the woman's name) was unfortunately already hurt. so i just really need to know that she will be alright. ❞

[sifonie]

@brokenbladesandfaces from here !

“Well, yes,” Sibyl replies, raising a hand to shield their eyes from the lights, “isn’t that why I’m here?” They squint at the surgeon, ready to fire another inquiry or two at her. “It’s not pretty, is it?” Their head hurt, something they barely remember happened to injure them, but their top concern was their appearance. A sigh leaves them as they lean back and fully cover their eyes with their arm, a dramatic gesture in itself. “If it leaves a permanent scar, I won’t be very happy,” they remark, “tell me, will it?” It’s better to just rip the Band-Aid off and get the bad news out of the way so they could spend time lamenting over it.

"More importantly, how long was I out for?" Sibyl peeks out from under their arm, eyeing her caretaker impatiently. "I feel like I was hit by a brick."

[bonesmade]

'The stranger' prompts: "working too hard can give you a heart attack"

'the stranger' prompts !

"I can imagine," Gia drawls, hand propping her head up as her fingers gently tap her cheek. Her eyes move to Miriel's visage. "I'm going to be frank when I say that I'm surprised I haven't dropped dead yet. I've been working my ass off for years and it doesn't do any favors to my blood pressure." At least that's what others around her happen to say about her temper.

She sighs and shifts in her seat, trying to make herself more comfortable. A frown is evident on her face, brows lightly furrowed. "I'm not a fan of medication, the sedatives and all that. They make me feel like some kind of zombie. And yet, I don't know how to relax on my own...has life been treating you any better than that?"

[mad-hunts]

Hidden Injuries Prompts

"You can barely stand. Sit. Down."

the usual peachy complexion that barton boasted looked to be completely drained from his face the moment he stepped foot in miriel's clinic. and ironically enough, he had come there on behalf of a patient - not for himself at any capacity. there was a certain complex case he was working on, which he believed with any luck, he might be able to figure out a treatment plan for with help; but that day barton had also suffered the misfortune of being stabbed in someplace that wasn't particularly easy for him to stitch.

though, he covered it to the best of his ability to stop the bleeding and pulled out the shard of glass that'd been once jutting out of his back (long story). barton thought it'd be fine to just wait until that evening for his daughter, matilda, to come back and stitch him up but something felt wrong with it. like maybe the person he'd killed had nicked something they weren't supposed to in defense of their life. something that, under other circumstances, barton might say he was twistedly impressed by. not a lot of people got the chance to come at them with their own weapon before dying while he was on a 'hunt.'

but right now, the doctor had to admit there was some truth to what miriel was saying. he was mysteriously cold and felt a bit dizzy as he encountered her. still, this type of injury was not one that could be easily explained away, so barton was not about to reveal it to miriel if he could help it. sitting down never hurt anyone however. ❝ ahh, okay, okay. i'm sitting down... anyways, like i was saying, i came here to get your perspective on this patient's case in hopes that you might be able to notice something i didn't. so if you have time — ❞ once barton sat down, he placed a hand on his back where that wound was. pain flared through it suddenly and he couldn't help but wince.

well, he supposed that things didn't always turn out the way you wanted them to; and him not bringing miriel into this might be just a pipe dream now.