#murdurr

[luxraydyne]

honestly thinking abt it i’d definitely have preferred if danganronpa v3 had actually fully committed to the “fiction that hates you and mocks you and wants you to question why you still enjoy it bc you become brainless amoral voyeurs whenever you engage with it, you people kinda suck ass tbh actually” reading all the way to the bitter salted earth end. like i doubt i’d have *liked* the weird superiority complex vibes from it and the whole deflected creative ennui onto the audience still. but i’d for sure have to at least *respect* the gumption, the sheer full-chested audacity of the choice, especially in the context of this specific franchise, if the writing didn’t spend like an extra hour pussyfooting around doing a watered down, sugarcoated little backpedal into “oh no, not you actually bc you specifically are special and nice and good and don’t count”. this trial is way too fuckin long anyway like pick your bit and stick to it binch. call me a sucker to my face binch come on!

[sungrave]

I haven't had a single interaction with this post in ages, good to hear the voltron fandom still breaths occasionally

idk how y'all feel about it but it cracks me up how after Haxus (which resembles so much to hex=six) Sendak has a liutenant named Hepta (which is literally seven) like are we counting his men now?

[averagedemoenjoyer]

HI HELO could you do demo and sniper w a short significant other (like idk 5ft tall, or whatever you consider short) THHHAANK you

of course!! thank you for requesting this, i should start posting now since the school year has finally finished over here!!

demoman and sniper with a short s/o!!

(gender neutral reader)

demoman:

“hehe yer short >.3”

will 100% tease you for your height, but it’s lighthearted and comes from a place of love so don’t worry

however, if anyone else that isn’t him does that, he gets VERY protective.

and when i say protective, i mean loud and angry protective. he would say something like “aye? yer teasing mah precious wee treasure fur thair height? A’M GONNAE PUMPIN’ MURDURR YE-“

gives you piggy back rides when he’s sober (not while drunk tho, that will end badly)

gives you stupid pet names based on your height. stuff like “me little ant” and “teeny tiny leprechaun”

accidentally lays on top of you when he gets into bed sometimes and he apologises for a week straight afterwards.

he REFUSES to let you wear heels though since he knows how much they hurt feet sometimes (don’t ask how he knows, he just does) platforms are on thin ice

starts calling himself “big lad” at some point to tease you (again, lighthearted so don’t worry)

likes putting his hand on your head and pushing you down towards the ground while yelling “SHRINK” as a joke (based on true events)

sniper:

he loves resting his head against your head when he’s tired and needs attention

since he likes it when you guys are kinda level, he sits you up on a bench most of the time

he ALWAYS grabs stuff from high places for you, even if there’s a ladder/stool around

just like demo, if anyone teases you for your height, he gets protective. the difference being sniper is more quiet about it then demo is.

since he looks so old and you’re shorter than him, people often mistake him for your dad and it’s very embarrassing to explain that he is your boyfriend.

he likes randomly hugging you from behind, but you always notice him because of how tall he is.

he gets extremely flustered when you sit on his lap, but he likes it a lot.

he doesn’t like admitting it, but he loves being the little spoon. so when you cling onto his back like a tiny backpack, it looks very humorous.

he’s afraid of roller coasters so he kinda sees your height as an excuse to go on the kid rides at amusement parks.

he also likes carrying you around places since he finds you quite light

no silly petnames for you from sniper though, unless you REALLY BEG him to give you one. (or you start calling him silly petnames based on his height)

thank you for reading all the way through!! and just a reminder that requests are open, so make sure to read my pinned post to see what i will and won’t do!!

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Chapter 10: The Heist - Sapere aude (Dare to know)

Warnings: None except my pitiful attempt at Scottish slang, if someone wants to correct it or yell at me, be my guest

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47442772

Previous

Masterlist

Part 1: The dare (you’re here)

Part 2: The theft

Part 3: The aftermath

‘‘I hate you’’ Riot groaned with her head in her hands, hunched over the table. ‘‘Why, Johnny? Why did you think this was a good idea? And why did I go along with it?’’

‘‘Dinnae keek at me’’ Soap slurred, looking sadly at his empty glass before grabbing the bottle and pouring the orange liquid that was left in it. Most of it went in the glass at least.

‘‘What?’’ She raised her head to look at him, regretting it almost instantly when the stupid lights of the mess hall made her eyes crawl back into her skull. Or that’s how it felt.

‘‘Dinnae… ack… don’t look at me, ye bought th’ Irn Bru…’’

‘‘I bought the Irn Bru, you didn’t have to mix it with vodka!’’ Riot hissed, and that was even a worse idea than opening her eyes. Thank God it was early for dinner and the mess hall was mostly empty, and they had chosen for obvious reasons the table that was the furthest from other people.

Why they chose to drink in the mess hall in first place was beyond her.

‘‘Bit ye drank it!’’ He pouted, shaking the empty bottle he had used to mix the drinks right under her nose, and she leaned back, repulsed by the smell.

‘‘Stop fucking… fu… mierda (shit)… Deja de gritar, cojones (Stop shouting, damnit)’’ She grunted, looking around sneakily. ‘‘If Price catches us I’m going to murder you myself before he can’’

‘‘Aww ah knew ye loved me’’ Soap smiled broadly, grabbing her hands and shaking them enthusiastically. ‘‘Ye wid murdurr me sae ah wouldn’t suffer…’’

‘‘¿Qué?’’ Riot blinked, staring at him with her mouth open. Most of the time, in normal circumstances, her brain could comprehend or at least try to make out what the fuck Johnny was saying when the thickest of his accent hit. But with her mind and his tongue fogged by the goddamned mix of vodka and Irn Bru that seemed unlikely to happen. She hadn’t even realized that her English was gone to shit and her own accent was stronger than normal.

‘‘What?’’ Soap stared back, with the empty glass in his hand, and after trying to drink the emptiness, glared at it as if it was his worst enemy.

She shook her head, and groaned when that was even a worse idea than hissing.

‘‘We are so dead if Price catches us’’ Why, oh why did she think she’d do a nice thing for Johnny when she saw a case of Irn Bru at the supermarket in base. Why the fuck did he have two half pints of vodka hidden in his room. Why were the fucking lights so strong in that bloody room.

Why the fuck did she agree it wouldn’t hurt to have a little drink before dinner, for the good old times.

‘‘If we hae tae be caught, let it be th' Lt’’ Soap slurred again, with a shit-eating grin that froze her heart but did nothing to sober her up. ‘‘He might fancy a swig’’

‘‘Nonononononononononono’’ Riot started shaking her head and stopped abruptly with the sudden dizziness, but kept saying ‘no’ over and over again. The mere idea of Ghost catching them drunk was… fucking hell. She’d die for real. ‘‘Do NOT fucking summon him, I swear to God I’ll murder you’’

‘‘Aww…’’ He giggled, hunching over until he rested his forehead on the cold surface of the table. After a second, he giggled again, turning his head and peeked at her. ‘‘Truth or dare’’

‘‘We’re certainly not playing truth or dare while half drunk in the mess hall, Johnny’’

‘‘Truth or daaaareeee…’’ Soap insisted with a sing-song voice and puppy eyes, and Riot sighed.

‘‘Dare’’ She regretted it the second she said the word, seeing Soap’s mischievous eyes. ‘‘No! Wait! Truth!’’

‘‘Ye cannae change yer choice, lassie’’ He laughed, sitting up again and interlacing his fingers. ‘‘Rules, ya know’’

‘‘Fuck you’’ She groaned, leaning back in her chair and looking at the ceiling. Maybe if she looked at the lights long enough she’d pass out or maybe, if she was lucky, she’d die already. ‘‘What the fuck do you want me to do’’

‘‘A'm waantin' ye tae dae a heist’’ Soap slurred happily, nodding his head up and down.

‘‘English, MacTAVISH’’ Riot hissed, the last part loud enough to make a private that was coming in the mess hall look at them briefly before continuing their path.

‘‘Ah, bugger… I want you to steal something’’

‘‘I am not stealing Price’s cigars’’ She shook her head, slowly this time, still looking at the ceiling.

‘‘Nah… Ghost’s t-shirt or a hoodie. That’s yer prize’’

Riot didn’t move for a while, and Soap started to think she had fallen asleep when she slowly sat upright and crossed her arms, looking at him with a frown.

‘‘Say that again’’

‘‘Ah dare ye tae steal Ghost’s t-shirt or hoodie by tomorrow’s tea’’ Soap smiled again, satisfied with himself and his absolutely fabulous idea. She was still staring at him, her left eye slightly twitching.

‘‘You can’t be serious’’ Riot shook her head in disbelief. ‘‘What if I refuse? This is ridiculous’’

‘‘Awww come on… just a wee theft’’ His lopsided smile was infectious, tempting, and so fucking wrong.

‘‘This is stupid’’ She smiled against her will. It was stupid, and reckless, and exciting.

‘‘We hae dane worse things, lassie’’ Soap sniggered.

‘‘True’’ Riot nodded solemnly. ‘‘What do I get in exchange?’’

‘‘Yer paperwork done for a month’’ He offered his hand, just as solemnly and still with the stupid grin, trying not to laugh. ‘‘Ye’ll dae mines if ye fail. Deal?’’

‘‘Deal’’ She giggled and shook his hand firmly, sealing the deal.

‘‘What’s the deal?’’ Ghost’s grave voice rumbled right behind them making them both yelp and stare at the enormous lieutenant with wide eyes. He was holding a cup of coffee and a stack of paperwork. ‘‘Do I want to know?’’

‘‘Yes!’’ Soap smiled widely, grabbing the empty bottle and chucking it behind him.

‘‘No!’’ Riot blurted out desperately, her right knee jumping up and down wildly under the table, tempted to kick Soap’s shin until she broke his fucking bones. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Ghost was still staring at them, obviously not buying it, but in the end, he decided that no, he didn’t want to know.

‘‘Figured as much’’ He shrugged, and looked down at Riot. ‘‘Later?’’

‘‘Yes’’ She smiled, nodding, maybe a bit too much. Oh God, she needed to sober up and quick.

Ghost hummed while nodding and left, ignoring the sight of Soap sprawling over the surface of the table to look at Riot more closely.

‘‘Lateeeerrr…? What does that ‘later’ meeeaaaan?’’

‘‘Coffee’’ She grunted, swatting his hands away when his grin widened. ‘‘I love you like a brother, Johnny, but I swear to God that if you mock me for this I will absolutely, mercilessly, throttle you to death’’

‘‘Mock ye? ah wouldn't dae that!’’ He shook his head excessively and she groaned, just dizzy at the sight. ‘‘Dinnae forget th’ prize, lassie’’

Riot groaned again, burying her head on her crossed arms over the surface of the table.

What did she just got herself into?

[thehyperrequiem]

And now, a Cartoon Network Linkage Incorrect Quote

Astor (The Scotsman's Linker): A've ainlie kent Becca fur a day 'n' a hauf, bit if anythin' happened tae th’ lass 'n' her samurai mukker, Mah muckle mukker (Referencing to The Scotsman) 'n' ah wid murdurr ilka yin o' ye Gowks at this plook 'n' then masell!

Becca (Samurai Jack's Linker): Astor, I am flattered by your kind words, but do not off yourself please, that would be very bad.

(inspired by @sundove88 and one of her Project Link Up installments; Cartoon Network Unity Linkage)

This will be Becca’s face looking at Astor when after Astor said he’s gonna off himself after he off some bad guys (sweat drop appear on her head)

That is the face that reads "Astor No-"

[dirak-sea]

"oh wee laddie, adjust yer posture!" thay say. "oh wee laddie, kip oan yer back! it helps wi' carpal tunnel." thay say.

Ah woke up fae trying tae kip oan mah back sae noo a'm sittin` in mah pumpin' kip haudin' a pish fur mah nerves ur sae fucked fur whenever ah shift mah nerves tell me tae "kill myself". 'n' a'm het bit a'm nae fuckin het 'n' shimmyin' sae solid ah cause mair pain tae masell cuz o' mah fuckin claes. Ah cannae srink cooncil juice fur mah tastebud shits ur telling me "kill yersel', taste jobby ye twine"... 'n' mah heid hurts 'n' ah cannae think straecht fur ah puked in mah brain 'n' ah cannae see hee haw. A'm feelin' mah bones, ah hate ye god. Murdurr yersel'. Bugger this jobby.

A'm taking a pish.

[medeaodair]

DANGER. // SELF-PARA

A conversation with death:

What to do if the earth starts eating you;

Step one, hope you don’t taste too good, so earth spits you out. Step two, just kidding! Step three, earth doesn’t care what you taste like. 

Enjoy it. 

It seemed, all his life Rio Odair had been rather insistent on combating beauty with horror. 

He had no pretty words for anyone, other than ones coated in arrogance and certainty, cockiness and overconfidence that seemed to cling to his skin like sticky, sickly sweet honey. Yes, that was it. Sickly and insincere, even though he’d always thought that all of it had a purpose. After all, he tried. And the one thing he’d mastered all of his life, had been a disarming smile. One didn’t need words for smiles, they spoke for themselves. They all had a purpose, conveniently sent certain people’s ways to distract, deflect, charm, direct somewhere specific. 

No one could say Rio Odair didn’t try. Sometimes a little too much, sometimes far too little, but he did try. 

Rio tried his best to seem bored, nonchalant, while havoc wreaked around him like his own personal little concert, directed by subtly twitching fingers at his sides. Tried his best to remain unimpressed when Carol walked towards him with a bleeding head and clueless, damn near naive eyes that Rio had no idea how to look into without feeling horribly startled. 

The past was catching up to him. Rapidly. Perhaps not within seconds, but old ghosts only rest for so long, and one of them was right by his side as he snapped the girl’s neck in the bloodbath. He didn’t even remember her name. Didn’t even remember where she was from. But did it matter, really? She was dead and he’d have someone to tell him who to direct his next smile towards. A weeping mother, a broken father, a devastated sibling, or no one at all. In the end, that was the only thing that mattered. 

Rio Odair was trying, and no one could say he wasn’t.

This is just the fucking beginning. They’ll see what I can do soon enough. 

He’d always been rather insistent on combatting beauty with horror, even if unintentionally. The urge lingered on his tongue in the grand lobby of the casino, coppery tang almost making him grimace with its intensity. 

Well, Troy almost managed to punch it right out of his mouth. Almost. His jaw cracked but the spirit of it didn’t. Horror in beauty? There couldn’t have been anything more horrible than District Four’s golden boy be beaten in the bloodbath by a rebel from District Eight, all the while crystals twinkled overhead. And then, Troy escaped right from between his fingers, grabbed for the fucking thing under the glass covering and was gone. Away from the glitz, away from the glamour, away from Rio’s aching jaw. 

About time then, that the bored, played up nonchalance made way for genuine anger. He knew how to deal with that, at the very least. Reach for something, and make it crumble to bits. 

He’d forever mourn that he’d never taken that rebel boy’s hand on the reaping stage and felt him tremble in fear right under his skin. 

He wanted to take his hand, pull him closer.

He wanted to take his hand and pull him closer and have his fingers find strands of hair and he wanted to wrap them around his fingers.

He wanted to take his hand and pull him closer and feel the strands wrap around his fingers like a noose around his neck and he wanted to smash his face into the glass covering on the column. 

The action was the easiest part. The itch that the sentiment left behind the hardest to scratch. 

Bones ached, bruises bloomed on his skin and Rio wanted to fucking scream at all of it. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right even in the slightest, possible way, and whoever was responsible for this joke of a bloodbath would suffer for it. Immensely. 

Even those who weren’t, would. A girl barreled towards one of the columns, panicked and bleeding and wide eyed like a deer fleeing from its hunter. Rio trembled as well now, but there was no sign of pathetic fear like the one he’d been so intent on choking out of the rebel boy back in Four as soon as they’d gotten into the Arena. No, god no, he was just furious. 

He got to his feet, clenched his jaw for good measure and put a good ten years of training to use in the most primal way the few seconds left him time for. 

She reached out, a little triumphant glimmer in her eyes. She was so, so close to getting that little pack of matches under that glass covering. So, so close. 

There must’ve been a goddamn joke in there somewhere. Missed it by that much. Missed was still missed, but when it was Rio reaching out, his hands always met their target. He grabbed her elbow and tugged her closer in one swift motion, before he hooked his arm around hers and grabbed for the hair at the back of her head. 

If he was really being honest with himself, he had no idea what the rebel boy’s face looked like. It didn’t surprise him, that he didn’t know this girl either. Like it fucking mattered. Features meshed together, eyes melted into one color and hell, Rio had never been great at remembering faces that would cease to exist in any case. Ask him to pick out Primrose Everdeen’s wrinkly face out of a crowd and he’d have respectfully forfeited the challenge. It didn’t fucking matter. 

What did matter, was that blood on glass looked all the same in the grand scheme of things. He grabbed a fistful of hair and listened for the satisfying crack and crunch as her face collided with the glass covering. 

Then, a cannon. 

Right. 

Perfect. 

It didn’t make a difference though, when he carelessly let go of the hair and let the body fall to the floor. He felt restless inside, past the way he left the bloodbath behind in favor of looking for Carol. He felt restless, even as he found the other tribute from Four passed out on a couch, most likely from his head-wound, and had to sit there and watch him rest like that wasn’t in any way fucking rude. 

There were quite a few cannons from that point onwards, and none of them was his own. Every time it went off, it was music in his ears. He didn’t care for any of these fuckers. Every time it went off, it meant one less person to worry about killing. One less person in his way to the top. 

His past caught up with him though, and he had no way to smash fates fucking face into a wall or something equally as satisfying as that. 

He met the guy from One in the darkened casino, with cockiness in his step that Rio recognized far too well. Didn’t he walk the same way? Like the whole goddamn Arena, including the incredibly suspicious furniture, belonged to him already. He was just a visitor here. He’d be out soon enough. 

His past caught up with him in its most simple form. It went without much of a fight, though, if deception was a fighting move, perhaps there’d been enough of it. 

The nameless, faceless career from one died with his head pushed into thick, dark liquid. 

Rio imagined someone weeping as he did it. A mother of a little boy, crying and screaming beside him like that had in any way been the same. Like he’d pushed that boys head under ocean water too, and watched him drown from up close instead of from the safety of the lifeguard seat. 

He didn’t find much struggling under his hands before the cannon ended the disappointing act with an almost overeager bang. 

Right. 

Yes, thirteen down. 

Halfway there. 

His past caught up with him, and it was about as nice as he’d been. 

It stumbled towards him in the dark, barely illuminated by a neon glow, and it shoved something right into his gut. Yes, his past caught up with him and it was being an absolute pain about it. The piece of sharpened bone sank right past the barrier of skin like it had any place to sit there among the rest, and Rio had no choice but to be an absolute fucking pain back. 

How?

He didn’t die. 

He stumbled out towards the lobby like he was retracing his steps right back to the beginning. Horror in the midst of all that beauty. Well, he’d never known anything different. Horror seemed to follow his every step, oozed out of his every word and smile and maybe, just maybe, he’d managed to poison himself too. Beauty covering up all that horror like a shroud, golden and expensive and cold and dead. 

But, Rio Odair didn’t die. 

Rio Odair watched a horribly wet Carol stroll through the door and he didn’t die. He wasn’t dead yet. 

No, that would’ve been horribly disappointing. 

Death and him hadn’t finished talking, after all. 

“Don’t be all fucking bark and no bite, Eyre,” he sighed, pointed boredom laced in his tone. “What’s this?”

Carol Eyre threw a dagger at him, and joined the conversation. 

[calemapproaching]

It is is alright. I learned and so will he. Hopefully.

➢ ✕

'Oh boohoo the people roleplaying as us agreed with you.'

'Am I the only one who finds this weird?!'

- Calem

[alexbeyy]

[flowersforaghcst-blog]

When both @burningbutwhite and I want kisses from @trustsncbody :

[elemental-queen-writes]

And I love it so so much!

A commission for @elemental-queen-writes

[warden-melli]

Created some fakemon tonight! I’ve had the idea for these guys for years now, so I finally decided to draw them. I imagine these could work as variants of the timburr line in a “legends” style game set in a Victorian Galar region.

Grimburr - ground/ghost - the grave robber pokemon

Murdurr- ground/ghost - the grave keeper pokemon

Pallburdurr - ground/ghost - the Pallbearer pokemon

I’d like to clean up their designs, work out a colour pallet for these guys, then do a final redraw someday

Going to put the individual arts under the cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️

[mmm-asbestos]

neo but villain british accent

posh when self confident, scottish when agitated

“I will cause maymem upon this land and nobody will stop me-”

Sonic appears

“SONIC AH WILL PUMPIN' MURDURR YE“

[runner5ive]

Okay but there's a primal part of me that needs Nadia's Scottish accent to get stronger and harder to understand the angrier she gets.

Nadia: Listen up ye wee bastards nae a single yin o' yer aff tae harm mah runners or ah will come oot thare 'n' murdurr ye a' masell!

Five: ???😍???

[st4rry4pples]

yep

theres just 20 minutes left and this felt like it was five hours long... i believe i laughed a total of just 3 times... i could be watching john waters entire filmography but im legally obligated to watch THIS CALITALISM APOLOGY INSTEAD