#inspiration: twenty one pilots

[team-iceflower]

Reporter: So last month, you and your sister accepted an award for Best Huntresses in Patch. Any comment on why you accepted it without pants?

Ruby: *Nervous laughing* Yeah well, a few years ago, before we even went to Beacon, Yang and I made a deal that if we ever won that award, we'd accept it with no pants.

Reporter: *turning to Weiss* Did you know that your wife was gonna run on stage with no pants on?

Weiss: *Rubbing her forehead* I didn't know what they were doing until I heard Ruby start unbuckling her belt.

[tobythetrashyartist]

”why dø yøu persist, after everything i've døne?”

“because i prømised yøu.”

i was trying to copy the art style of the show, but i think i just ended up combining it to my usual style lmao

here's a version without the effects and stuff bc i loved how i rendered it and y'all must see it too

[poison-p1nk]

pet cheetah.

[perfectfeelings]

I’m not sure I want to give you tools that can destroy my heart.

Twenty One Pilots, “Air Catcher,”

[perfectquote]

Sometimes to stay alive you got to kill your mind.

Twenty One Pilots - Migraine

[thoughtkick]

Sometimes to stay alive you got to kill your mind.

Twenty One Pilots - Migraine

[quotefeeling]

I’ve been thinking too much, help me.

Twenty-One Pilots, “Ride”

[thehopefulquotes]

I’ve been thinking too much, help me.

Twenty-One Pilots, “Ride”

[surqrised]

Sometimes to stay alive you got to kill your mind.

Twenty One Pilots - Migraine

[lanormie]

heathens

how you met Dabi and Shigaraki during a prison break wc: 1.4k cw: graphic violence, minor character death, implied sexual harassment

Whoever came up with the idea of implementing gen-pop at Tartarus is an imbecile.

Leave it to the Commission and their precious heroes to believe the most dangerous and irredeemable criminals should ‘get a chance at rehabilitation’ by socializing with other dangerous and irredeemable criminals. It’s utterly ironic that most of them end up getting shipped off to rot in solitary anyway, with how often vicious fights and mutinies break out.

These people, or these villains, are either masterminds or mass-destruction weapons, or somewhere in between. But they all have one thing in common: they’re absolutely batshit insane. And when it comes to keeping these psychotic individuals in check, quirk-nullifying cuffs are band-aid on a bullet hole. So naturally, they’re never really ‘in check’.

You’d like to think you’re also batshit insane, but after spending months in this pit of hell, you don’t think you have a realistic point of reference anymore. After all, you still have some pitiful remnants of sanity left at the bottom of the barrel, and they tell you that those 15 minutes of outdoor time everyday is worth not choking the shit out of Tosaka, the creepy ass guard assigned to your block.

Most days are spent keeping to yourself, constantly looking over shoulder watching out for Tosaka’s wandering hands, and doodling like a fucking toddler who has only one way of expressing their morbid and unfiltered obsession with mortality: through hilariously wobbly drawings that involve blood and scattered innards.

Crunch.

The lead of your pencil gives out under the pressure of your hand, and you curse. A strange foreboding feeling has been weighing you down all day, keeping you awfully on edge.

Tension has been simmering within the confines of these reinforced walls for days, ever since that one high-profile criminal was escorted through the halls of Tartarus towards their current holding: the solitary wing.

Shigaraki Tomura.

He hasn’t been released to gen-pop yet, but his presence has already divided the prisoner population neatly into two. The first half are foaming at their mouth for a challenge, and the other half are quaking in their boots and sweating bullets. Either way, it’s not going to be a pretty sight.

Getting up from your creaking metal bench, you make your way towards the hand crank pencil sharpener. Looking up to make sure Tosaka isn’t around to make some nasty comment, you shove the pencil into the receptor, eyes catching on to some movements across the room.

The crowd near the entrance starts to cautiously part, and you see two high-level guards escorting in a new face. A patchy, stitched together by staples face, like a fucked up teddy bear. His frightfully bright turquoise eyes peer around as he keeps getting pushed forward by the guards, seemingly bored out of his mind. Until those lidded orbs catch yours.

A roguish smirk pulls painfully at the staples around his cheek as he gets led in your direction. He keeps his eye contact keen till he’s almost past where you stand, only then does he mouth a string of words to you.

“Count to ten.”

And you do.

One.

He winks mischievously before finally turning away.

Two.

The guards urge him through the exit behind you.

Three.

You realize that’s the exit leading to the solitary wing.

Four.

You return the to the hand crank sharpener.

Five.

You start rotating the crank with utmost caution.

Six.

You check to see if the pencil is at its peak sharpness.

Seven.

It is.

Eight.

You take a deep inhale.

Nine.

And exhale.

Ten.

Alarm starts blaring, its sound deafening and its red light blinding. It’s an assault to the senses, but you know better than to start cowering. Some rumbling can be felt through the floor, and whatever it is is barreling its way in your direction.

Suddenly someone’s yanking you backward, and you whip around to find Tosaka with his features twisted in panic and anger.

“Inmate, back to your cell, now!”

“Unhand me bitch.”

You snarl, and with practiced precision, you jam the pencil into his eye socket.

An ear piercing shriek leaves his throat, catching other guards’ attention. But before they can mobilize, a wave of prisoners, no doubt emboldened by your mutiny, moves to take them down one by one.

With the pencil in your hand still wedged into Tosaka’s brain, you jog the bastard backward towards the wall behind him and smash his skull against it, knocking the jerk out cold. Immediately, you start rummaging through his pockets till you find the tiny metal god that would answer all your prayers: the quirk nullifying cuff master key.

You are finally free of the cuffs when the entrance wall gets smashed open. And then you see them. Grotesque, dripping in blood and saliva, brain-hanging-out-in-the-open absolute freaks of nature.

Nomus.

Not looking to die a gory death today, you press yourself against a column and watch the creatures pummel their way towards the solitary wing, reducing guards and prisoners alike to puddles of crimson flesh.

Holding your breath as they rip the doors apart and disappear into the hall, you back away towards the entrance, hoping the wreckage they left on their way in would lead you out of here.

C’mon, gimme something. Where are you buddy?

You close and open your palm repeatedly, searching and willing for your quirk to kick into gear. The path to the outside is hilariously straightforward, almost like a tunnel, with sweet, sweet sunlight shining in at the end of it. Stuffing your lungs with a deep inhale, you step on the gas.

You’re so close to ditching this joint when a blur of woody brown abruptly lands in front of you.

“Not an inch further, inmate.”

Another thud lands behind you and you whip around.

Heroes. You’re cornered by goddamned heroes.

Turning back forward, you decide to buy yourself some time.

“Kamui Woods! Wow, the news made you look so much taller.”

Any second now.

“And you!” You turn towards the other hero. “Sorry, no clue who you are.”

“I’m–”

“Don’t give a shit.” You cut him off. “Why don’t you guys make yourselves useful and chase after the real threat in there, hm? Nomus seem way more urgent than little ol me– ow!”

Kamui Woods’ woody tendrils shoot out and wrap around your upper body in suffocatingly tight coils. You, however, don’t even bother to wiggle out of the hold, because you can finally feel it approaching. And it’s approaching fast.

The corner of your lips pulls into a smirk when a small blur of white dashes in from the entrance, ripping straight through the tree trunk bastard’s heart on its way to its final destination: the center of your open palm. 

You’re reunited once more with your most prized possession: the ivory blade crafted from your own rib bones. A deadly weapon which you can manipulate its shape, size, density and speed through your quirk. And most importantly, it always comes back to you. 

A maniacal cackle bubbles from your chest as the wooden tendrils fall limply from your body.

“You fucking idiot!” You roar at the fallen form of the Number Four Hero. Or shall you say, former No. 4 Hero. “You should’ve gone for the hands!”

You must’ve looked insane with the bloodlust craze in your eyes and the crimson-stained blade dangling from your hand cause when you finally turn around, you find the no-name fuckface slowly backing away from the scene.

Only to turn a petrifying gray, as if he has just looked Medusa in the eye, and disintegrate into dust. The ashened particles fall to the ground like sand, revealing a lanky figure with long, wavy silver locks cascading down his shoulders.

The stranger stares curiously at the corpse of Kamui Woods, his eyes following the splatter of blood from the hero’s left chest all the way to the dripping tip of your beloved dagger.

All of the sudden, the rubbles and ruins behind him erupt into scorching blue flames. Moments after, the raven haired man you saw earlier emerges from the fire, looking not a least bit bothered by the raging heat.

Ruby and sapphire orbs meet yours, and in the flickering light of the inferno, the two men look ethereal. Like some deities blessed with breathtaking carnage and destruction.

Like angels of hell.

Scarred lips crack into a wide malevolent grin, and with a voice as thorny as his aura, the silvered hair man declares.

“It looks like you might be one of us.”

my sincerest apologies to Kamui Woods stans 🧎‍♀️ reader is a Tartarus level criminal with a pseudo mjolnir, he didn't stand a chance 🫡

[resqectable]

I’ve been thinking too much, help me.

Twenty-One Pilots, “Ride”

[team-iceflower]

@whiterose-fans-blog Whiterose Week 2024 Day 8: Free Day! (Reassurance)

[Weiss and Ruby sitting on the edge of a roof watching the Vacuo night sky]

Ruby: Hey uh, Weiss? Can you promise me something?

Weiss: What is it, Petal?

Ruby: Just promise me this... if I lose to myself again... you won't mourn a day.

Weiss: *reaching over to hold her hand* Ruby... what happened in the Ever After won't happen again.

Ruby: How can you say that? People they... they backslide all the time.

Weiss: True, but I promised to be the best teammate you would ever have. I failed that. So here's what I will promise. I will be the best wife you will ever have, and I won't let you lose yourself again. I promise.

[add1ictwithapen]

moodboard inspired by my favourite fic ever: dreamers at best by @vialism :3

[thespilledquotes]

I’m not sure I want to give you tools that can destroy my heart.

Twenty One Pilots, “Air Catcher,”

[perfectfeelings]

Sometimes to stay alive you got to kill your mind.

Twenty One Pilots - Migraine

[octildaodds]