#jess the beheader

[terabyte-teddybear]

murder on the rockport limited aesthetic: balance arcs 2/8

[most-gender-taz-npc]

[Image ID: The Adventure Zone logo overlayed with the transgender flag]

[samcat18]

What's this?? It's jess the beheader with the nat 20!!!!!

[cookie-nom-nom]

I couldn’t get this image of Lady Godwin out of my head. Also the thought of her having a thigh dagger holster for her axe.

[bed-wed-behead-your-fave]

Jesse Faden from control

[lucretiaadventurezone]

TAZ Dashboard Simulator 2 (Part 1)

🔥 lup-da-lup Follow

be back soon 💋 im gonna go fight this guy for my relic

🔥 lup-da-lup Follow

Ubmrella

#girl help #im trapped

(7 notes)

In your orbit!

🪩 avi-the-ball-guy

↻ woe-is-johann

🤼 best-fantasy-prowrestler-tournament Follow

Round 4: Semi-Finals

Jeff Angel Propaganda:

from @.ango-mcdango: I <3 JEFF ANGEL HE’S SO COOL AND HE ALWAYS CALLS HIS DAD

Jess the Beheader Propaganda:

from @.bagnus-murnsides: jess literally has a dope ass axe

#jess sweep

(379 notes)

🚀 cap-n-port

↻ you-know-from-tv Follow

┌───────────────────┐

😎 Anonymous asked:

Your captain looks gnc as fuck

└───────────────────┘

👖 lactosewarrior5000

YOU'RE INSANE

#Thank you very much!

(29,399 notes)

🐱 Sponsored by Fantasy Costco

You Don’t Need All of Your Blood; Here’s Why

The Director doesn’t want you to know this…

🎻 woe-is-johann

↻ avi-the-ball-guy

🪩 avi-the-ball-guy

cannonball system liveblog

🪩 avi-the-ball-guy

ball

🪩 avi-the-ball-guy

ball

🪩 avi-the-ball-guy

other. ball

#babe we gotta get you a fidget toy or something #clearly you're getting bored at work

(23 notes)

📔 sheesh-creesh

↻ lup-da-lup Follow

💋 lesbian-orc-lover Follow

lucretia was 18 when the ipre mission left??!? she should've been at the club!!

✨ you-know-from-tv Follow

oh trust me one of the planes we went to was a giant disco and lucy was freakin it sensitive style day and night

🔥 lup-da-lup Follow

real footage of lucretia at the club ↑↑

#I'm actually going to kill both of you #mutuals #queue never know what you'll find #reblogs

(35,095 notes)

❄️ neverwinter-heritage-posts

↻ magic-brian-with-an-i Follow

┌───────────────────┐

🚂 jerreeeeee asked:

is magnus burnsides gay??

└───────────────────┘

📖 dailycalebcleveland

why would you ask us, a caleb cleveland blog, this

#neverwinter heritage posts

(109,837,936 notes)

🧣 weaver-of-fate

↻ raven-queen-official

🐦‍⬛ raven-queen-official

i loev my beaugifyl wife so muchnohmygod

🐦‍⬛ raven-queen-official

where is smy wife i wanst to see herh

🐦‍⬛ raven-queen-official

hiiiiiiiidjiiii omg shge. is here :D

#apologies guys we hung out with pan and she got FUCKED up #you know how poker nights get #wife tag

(74 notes)

🐦 7-bird-watcher

↻ not-a-shitty-wizard Follow

🪄 mage-guy-19274637 Follow

people who actually like bugs are absolute freaks

🕷️ magic-brian-with-an-i Follow

wrong! spider attack

🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️

#sent to me

(6,074 notes)

🌈 lucretiaadventurezone

hi

[violetpixiedust]

thinking about innocent angelic!reader being a risqué burlesque dancer, and catching the attention of billy. (mdni) (pt. 2) ౨ৎ

the bar is stifling, as cowboys, coal miners, and married men alike fill the wooden walls with cigar smoke and pungent whisky breath, thick and heavy amidst the humid air. jesse’s already pulling billy closer to the front of the stage with his bruised hand clasped along the younger man’s shoulder, knocking past gorging men too drunk to spit out a threat or chance them a second glance.

the tinny music starts up just as the pair find a good view point. billy glances around stoically from beneath the dark brim of his hat as the men around him practically hop out of their wooden seats, cheering and yelling at the empty stage as if the beheading of a rebel were about to occur. it isn’t until you come out that he realizes the validity of their reactions.

your soft hair reflects against the warm amber oil lamps above you. it’s done up in an intricate hairdo, littered with silk bows and pearls, royal. billy let’s his cobalt eyes drag down your angelic figure, eyeing the lacy little corset dress that hugged your waist. complete with spaghetti straps and a minuscule hem that left the petal soft skin of your arms and legs bare, save for your knee length stockings. he felt a white hot light burn within his core, releasing a hushed, but pitiful breath at the sight of your near naked frame prancing around the stage.

your glossy smile was bright, framed with a darker shade along your cupid’s bow, emphasizing to the lone cowboy just how plump your lips were. you seemed excited, happy even, but there was a light behind your eyes that grew dimmer with each foul remark spit your way, each taunt, each coin tossed at your heeled mary janes. you longed to be on the big stage. you wanted to preform for artists, you wanted to be in the pictures-

your set is nearly finished. you twirl, just like a ballerina figurine trapped within the confines of a music box. with every spot of your turns you see a handsome man dressed in deep indigo, holster on his hip, hat tilted, hypnotic eyes watching your every move from behind his glass of whisky. he’s oddly quiet, however his chapped lips are parted, revealing that not even he is immune to your siren song. you can’t take your eyes off of him once you regain your footing, neglecting your big sign off to unravel the baby pink ribbon that previously sat in a bow around your neck. the crowd grows cruder at your actions, but you, unknowing to the bigger picture, only point to the outlaw in two counties that the townsfolk call “billy”. his lips form into a subtle smirk, only widening when his blonde friend pushes him forward teasingly, half finished drink handed off to one of the many drunks in the now jealous crowd.

he trots over to you easily, following the manicured call of your curled pointer finger. you’re stood at the edge of the stage, bent over to meet his eye-line. he’s even prettier up close, you think, with your ever softening doe eyes. sun kissed skin stained with dirt and sweat, complimented by a strong bone structure. brunette locks that curl out from beneath his hat, matching eyelashes that frame his darkening eyes as they gaze at you. you giggle softly, a shy, tinkling sound that has billy fighting back his grin. as quickly as you can, you tie your ribbon around his large wrist. a wave of heat rushes through every avenue of your body as you note the size difference of your hands, leaving you tingly and warm. despite being a burlesque dancer, you weren’t the most experienced- besides one or two men who found themselves in the boarding house a bit ago, but you knew lots of tricks from your burlesque sisters, and you were eager to put them to good use with the handsome stranger in front of you- if he would let you.

billy’s heady gaze drops towards your lips as you place a sticky kiss along the corner of his mouth, just catching the prickle of his stubble. you can feel billy’s breath hitch ever so slightly, as the salty taste of his skin causes your long eyelashes to flutter. “meet me backstage after the show. please?” he all but nods at your pleading, letting his usually rough hand brush a loose lock behind your ear as gently as he could. with a good southern-natured tilt of his hat and rosy cheeks, billy gives you a crooked smile that you couldn’t help but flush at.

“yes, m’am.”

[nattinatalia]

Urban Wyatt x Reader : ROSCA DE REYES

“What’s the deal about this bread thingy?” Clay asks.

You alongside your husband, your best friend, her husband Jack, Clay, Druski and Cope were laying around in your living room watching a new series you got them all hooked on, El Señor de Los Cielos.

Earlier that day you had remembered to go buy a rosca so all of you can partake and eat it with chocolate de abuelita.

“It’s just something my family has done for years. It’s a Latin tradition, every January sixth, you buy a rosca and cut a slice and inside there’s a plastic baby Jesus. It’s supposed to be good luck if you get it, but you also have to cook tamales for everyone.” You explain.

“BABY JESUS WHAT?” Druski asks, laughing.

Jess rolls her eyes, “Just shut up and enjoy the damn hot chocolate and bread.”

“So it’s just bread?” Clay asks.

You nod, “With some sweets toppings, but those aren’t my favorite so I take them off.”

You and Jess go to the kitchen to start on the chocolate de abuelita and get mugs for everyone.

“Cuando estos se aprendan todas nuestras tradiciones será un milagro.” Jess says.

“Primero le tienes que enseñar a tus suegros y a su familia como aplaudir en sincronía. Their clapping is so off.”

“Bitch don’t come for my husbands family.” Jess throws a piece of chocolate at you. “But you’re right.”

You both laugh and go to serve the drinks in mugs and take them to the living room, alongside with the rosca.

“Urban you cut it, I heard all about the bingo game being rigged so I don’t want to get no baby Jesus in my bread.” Druski says.

“First of all, it’s not bingo it’s loteria.” You roll your eyes and then turn to face Urban, “Second of all, babe are you still milking the fact that you kept loosing?”

“No, this fucker just loves bringing up old stuff to start shit.” Urban answers.

“Here, you cut the pieces then.” You hand him the knife.

“Does it matter the size?”

“No.”

Urban starts cutting the slices and you help him pass them around.

“I’m safe.” Jess says smiling and taking a bite from the rosca.

“Of course you are.” Clay tells her.

“Here you go as well oh my gosh” Jess says rolling her eyes.

“Umm.” Druski says. “Is this baby Jesus supposed to be without a head?”

You and Jess look at each other and laugh.

“Did you eat the head?”

“What? No.”

“Nah man, I think you did.” Jack says.

“Urban you better put that baby Jesus back in its place, don’t try hiding it.” You tell him after you saw from the corner of your eye when he tried sneaking it out and put it behind him.

“H-how what?” He asks.

You smile “I saw you idiot.”

“But babe that means you’ll have to cook the tamales.”

“Me? I didn’t get any baby Jesus on my slice.”

“But since I’m your husband and these are the rules, you need to help me.”

You shake your head, “Nope, I’ll tell you what to do step by step but I’m not cooking them, that’s all you.”

“Fine.”

“Oh shit, I got it too.” Jack says.

“I guess we’re making tamales for the whole block.”

“I STILL WANT TO KNOW HOW MY BABY JESUS WAS BEHEADED.” Druski says, looking at the little plastic baby in his hand.

********

TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux

@harlowsbby

@arination99

@cmalass

@jackharloww

@minkookie95

@deannaard

@jacksmoviestar

@harlowcomehome

@fdl305

@httpkoylinnn

@xoxokiaraaxoxo

@hoodharlow

@automaticpeachsong

@amethyst09

@aliciacat20

@allyson15

@gabbylovesreading

@stefansalvatoresgf

@violetdreamsworld

@carma-fanficaddict

@jasminxts

[charlottesbookclub]

king of all birds – chapter five

king of all birds masterlist

Summary: alistair goes hunting!!

Warnings/Tags: hunting with a falcon, descriptions of animal death, descriptions of blood and butchering an animal, brief mentions of martyrdom and religious ideas

Words: 1423

Helpful Info:

St. Anthony of Padua is the patron saint of finding lost or hidden things

St. George is said to have slain a dragon and is considered the patron saint of England, although this association was not thoroughly established until after the period of Alistair's human life (it was during the reign of Edward III – just after Alistair was changed – that St. George became associated with the English monarchy)

St. Denis is the patron saint of Paris who is said to have been beheaded on a hill in Paris now known as Montmartre ("hill of the martyrs"). His legend claims that he picked up his own severed head and continued to preach after his beheading

Author’s Note: as promised, Alistair goes hunting!! I really wanted to use this chapter to show that the forest is his safe place – somewhere he feels really comfortable and at ease with his surroundings and himself. I also briefly explore his sense of spirituality here, since that's a facet of his character that is completely unexplored in canon, yet has always fascinated me. please do read the warnings – I do describe hunting and the death of an animal. I also listened to 3+ hours worth of podcasts on falconry to write this lmao 😅 I still think I probably don't have everything right, so if anyone out there has falconry experience and would like to gently correct me on anything, please do reach out! ☺️ other than that, I hope y'all enjoy this lighter chapter! 🥰

It was not until he was deep within the woods that Alistair’s heartbeat finally slowed from its heightened state. He tried to match his breathing to the steady steps of the horse beneath him as the thick blanket of leaf litter dulled the sound of its hooves striking the ground. One hand grasping the reins, and the other holding Padua, one of his most beloved falcons, he deftly guided his steed into a clearing. Sunlight fell in dapples through the leaves, catching the stream that gurgled nearby and casting glittering nets of light on the clear water. Alistair closed his eyes, imagining that he was hooded like Padua, and practiced sensing his surroundings without his sight. 

He heard the crystalline chuckling of the stream across the rocks, the choir of birds that chittered and keened in the branches, the soft snuffling and rustling of hidden things in the underbrush. He heard his mount snort and begin ripping at the soft grass, and he came at last to the sound of his own breathing, steady and sure now as he filled his chest with untainted air. The scent of it was both sharp and soft at once: the bite of pine and sap mingled with gentler notes of dirt and decay. More than anything though, he could smell the well-worn leather of his tack and falconry equipment, blending seamlessly with the dusty, warm smell of his steed. He let the reins fall from his grasp, reaching forward instinctively to feel the short, coarse fur of his horse, now damp with sweat where the saddle met its skin. His other hand was cloaked in one of his falconing gloves, but he could barely count that as something he felt, since the worn, supple leather was more like a second skin than a foreign object in his hand. He could feel precisely where Padua’s talons rested, and how the jesses fell and swayed almost imperceptibly in the slight breeze. 

When he opened his eyes again, the sunlight was bright against them, forcing Alistair to blink several times and readjust his sight. He swung off his horse in one practiced motion, landing lightly on the soft grass. After the whirlwind of thoughts that plagued him back at the estate, very little remained in his mind now that it had been cleared by the welcome calm of the forest. 

He let habit and instinct guide his movements; tethering his horse in the small clearing and allowing his feet to carry him along the hidden game trails that crisscrossed the forest like the gossamer threads of a spider’s web. Ever since he was a child, he had always had an innate sense of where to seek quarry. He let the forest speak to him, listening to the way the bird calls changed or how the rustling of tiny creatures shifted as he passed by. Though many had asked for his secret, he could never quite explain the mechanism by which he was able to track animals – in truth, he struggled to even explain it to himself. But whether it was a God-given gift (as his mother believed), a sign of his less-than-sound mental state (as Noll had frequently joked), or simply the natural result of having haunted the woods since he was old enough to walk, it was this sense that he followed as he wound his way through the ferns and logs and moss and trees. 

Coming at last to a place where the edge of the forest bordered a large field, he emerged with Padua from the shelter of the trees and into the sun as it illuminated the swaying grasses like the surface of a great green lake. Had he been with other hunters, or with a more inexperienced falcon, he might have devised some scheme to flush quarry from their hiding places amongst the grassy waves. But he felt Padua stirring where she rested on his arm, itching to hunt. Using the utmost care, he removed Padua’s hood, allowing her to adjust to the new surroundings. With deft hands, he loosed the jesses that bound Padua to him, and watched as the falcon leapt from his raised fist and took to the air.

If there were any moments in Alistair’s life where he was certain that there were greater powers that existed beyond his comprehension, it was when he was watching his falcons fly. The initial burst of powerful wing flaps and the courageous leap out into the nothing of the waiting air that soon transformed into a graceful glide as their outstretched feathers caught the wind and they sailed upward into the open arms of the sky was surely nothing short of a miracle. Through the grace of God, Saint George had slain the dragon and Saint Denis had picked up his own severed head, but who had taught falcons to fly?

Using one hand to shield his eyes from the bright sun, he watched as Padua became a small silhouette against the vast expanse of blue, circling the field below with a sense of sight so precise and focused that Alistair could barely dream of understanding. He shook his head in wonder and lowered his gaze back to a more earthly plane. Snapping a large stick from a fallen tree, he waded out into the grass, brandishing the stick before him to exaggerate the movement and sound he made, hoping to help scare free some prey that Padua could lock onto.

Just as he had hoped, a rabbit suddenly leapt up and made a mad dash away from him. Thoroughly desensitized to what others might have deemed a startling movement, Alistair merely looked to the sky to see Padua already diving for her quarry. In a motion so swift and sure it was almost like a strike of lightning, Padua swooped downward and pinned the rabbit to the soft grass. It wailed in her grasp, the noise coming from its throat sounding more ghoulish than animalistic. But her talons were latched into its flesh, and no matter how it thrashed and screamed, she would not let it go. 

Casting away his stick, Alistair ran to where Padua had the rabbit hooked in her curved talons. In a movement so instinctive he was barely conscious of having performed it, Alistair freed the hunting knife from his belt and quickly dispatched the poor beast. He began butchering it, cutting off small pieces of the bloody flesh to feed to Padua. She waited patiently as he worked, knowing she would soon get her reward. As always, she watched him intently with her night-dark eyes, tilting her head this way and that as Alistair made quick work of her kill. After tucking the extras into his leather pouch, he indicated for Padua to once again take up her roost on his arm. When she was settled again, he began feeding her slices of the rabbit meat. 

Everything about his birds never ceased to fascinate him, and he watched enraptured as she ripped at the bloody flesh before choking down a bite-sized piece. Her movements, like his, were skillful and exact, honed to perfection through years of practice and training. By the time she had eaten her fill, the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, its late afternoon light casting a golden glow across the landscape. Alistair hooded Padua once again and secured the jesses before making his way back to where his horse waited. 

The cool breeze that foretold evening’s coming and the gentle trot of his steed eased Alistair’s mind such that he had almost forgotten the worries that awaited him within the great stone walls of the estate. He returned Padua to her roost with a few whispered words of praise and promises to return to the hunt soon. He swung himself from his horse and handed the reins to an attendant just inside the gaping mouth of the gateway that opened to the twisting mass of halls and chambers within the family’s estate. He was busying himself with removing his falconing equipment when Amice appeared suddenly on a walkway above him. She looked almost ghostly in the fading light and tall shadows cast by the high walls, her skirt and veil fluttering around her in the light wind. But for all the ethereal ambience that seemed to surround her, her face was grave and set in stone. With neither one of them exchanging a word, Alistair understood that he was meant to follow her as she vanished back into the stone walls.

[incorrect-zone-quotes]

Best TAZ Balance NPC poll

After a little messing around, I've decided to conduct a very scientific poll.

This will include every TAZ Balance NPC that I remember/care about so I apologize deeply if your favorite NPC isn't on here but there's 60 total so I feel that's pretty comprehensive.

Matchups under the read more (These have been randomized so I'm sorry for any tough choices)

Artemis Sterling vs Hurley

Kravitz vs Klarg

Angus McDonald vs Robbie

Graham the Juicy Wizard vs Mr. Upsy

Johann vs Davenport

Roswell vs Dracula

Antonia vs Rowan

Lucas Miller vs Hodge Podge

Hekuba Roughridge vs Cassidy

Steven vs Brad Bradson

Greg Grimaldis vs Jenkins

Trent the Treant vs Little Jerry and Jerreeeeee

Cam vs Paloma

Voidfish vs Garyl

Barry Bluejeans vs Istus

Gundren Rockseeker vs Lucretia

Maarvey vs Sloane

Joaquin Terrero vs Edward

Mookie vs Lup

Ash vs Jeff Angel

Lydia vs Avi

Ren Mol'diira vs The Raven Queen

Clint McElroy (the Plane Walker) vs Boyland

June vs Pan

Brody vs Magic Brian

Garfield the Deals Warlock vs John

Leon the Artificer vs Carey Fangbattle

Mavis vs Killian

Maureen Miller vs Julia Burnsides

Jess the Beheader vs NO-3113

[irradiatedsnakes]

wyll <- jeff angel fan

karlach <- jess the beheader fan

[lunareclipse06]

Could you tell us every way each of the ghosts died? (Sorry if you’ve had already I can’t find anything like that)

No need to apologize. I’ve gotten asked about specific deaths, but I haven’t been asked about all of them

Here we go

Juniper- stabbed 13 times, murder

Raymond- poisoned, murder

Virginia- radiation poisoning, unnatural causes

Rosemary- dismemberment, murder

Leon- burnt alive, murder

Jesse- bullet in mouth, suicide

Nico- hanging, “suicide” (murder)

Annette- bullet to head, murder

Cyress- beheading, murder

Cole- hypothermia, “accident” (murder)

Maria- cardiac arrest, natural causes

Jade- drowning, murder

Ashley- overdose, suicide

I actually didn’t have an idea for Maria’s death for the longest time. Was originally gonna go with murder, but there’s already 9 of those

[bed-wed-behead-your-fave]

Jesse Faden from Control