#yeahhh he’s one of us

[thetorturedlovergirl]

My theory is that Sutekh would have a really cool tumblr account

[maggotmoment]

transfem vyncent save me. save me transfem vyncent save me

[hiemaldesirae]

The Hazbin Graduate’s Guide to Homicide (3)

HAZBIN'S MIDSEMESTER STUDENT REPORT Student: Vox Vanhal Supervising Staff: Professor Enoch Leviathan Sponsor: Not Applicable To the Board: Vox Vanhal may be one of the most brilliant students this school has seen in decades. In all my years of teaching at Hazbin, I have never met a student more insanely ready to learn and apply their skills- due in part, of course, to said student's own possible insanity. I mean this in a jovial way, of course, but I will admit that when young Vanhal's true identity was revealed to me that my first thought was along the lines of 'is this student insane?' Whether or not my student's reason should be called into question is something myself and my fellow professor Asmodeus have discussed in length, but there is one thing that we can definitively agree on: If there is any one student in this school who I would choose to place my bets on, it would be Vox Vanhal. There is nothing more to say at this time of report evaluation. Sincerely, Professor Leviathan.

May God's blessings be with you now and at the hour of our deaths, Amen.

[ 1 ] / [ 2 ] (<- read these first for context and more murder academy radiostatic content!)

Though Alastor may have thought that Vox was much more knowledgable in how Hazbin's Institution for Homicide worked, the truth was, Vox was still fully flying on the seat of his own coattails.

He had no damn clue what he was doing still, and although it'd been two weeks since he'd arrived, part of him still felt like how he did when he'd first arrived: hesitant, scared, not knowing where to go or what to do besides the want to make his boss suffer as he killed him.

That level of animosity might sound strange to anyone not a Hazbin student or alumnus, but it was perfectly normal for any student enrolled in the academy to have such feelings. After all, there was quite a rigorous process involved in the application, and for Vox, this application process (and what led to it) was perhaps more intense than most.

There had once been a time where Vox had dreamed of becoming a Hollywood starlet, one who lit up the silver screen and was blessed by hundreds of thousands of cheering, dedicated fans who would fawn over his every move and action. He'd wanted to follow in his mother's footsteps, at one point. But after taking on his first roles in Carmine Studios, the glamour of Hollywood had shattered like fine glass.

"Miss Vesper! Would you please look over here for a second?"

"Miss Vesper, when is your next movie coming out?!"

"Miss Vesper, is it true that you and your co-star on Anna Karenina, Valentino Vega had an affair-?"

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! That- fucking bastard!" Vox rushed into the privacy of his and Val's shared apartment, slamming the door behind him as he collapsed into the couch, head cradled in his hands. He couldn't even begin to start detailing the number of ways he'd wanted to fucking butcher and rip apart his boss.

Andrealphus Goetia was no stranger to the spotlight, naturally. One of Hollywood's top directors, the man had been an influential cornerstone in the history of movie-making, a real legend to light the days. But behind that picturesque platinum reputation laid a monstrous piece of shit.

It had been a complete accident that Andrealphus had found out about Vox's identity.

Vox himself hadn't even really planned out what to do about himself at that point, only that he'd known that the dresses he wore on screen were far more suited to his best friend than they were for him. Knew that the copious amounts of makeup flattened on him everyday made him feel more like a clown than a princess, that it was the most uncomfortable feeling to have to sit and play the pretty face for the audience's sake.

But he persisted, telling himself, one more year, one more year til my savings account has enough to supply Val and I with a comfortable life and we can leave.

But of course- of course Andrealphus had to ruin it for him.

The man had found out and immediately proceeded to blackmailing Vox with the information, holding things such as promotions, media gossip and rumors over his head. And now... now... Vox stared down at the script he held clutched in his hand, his knuckles turning white as he grasped it with an iron grip.

"Dieser verdammte bastard," Vox muttered under his breath.

Though he'd never loved the spotlight that came with his first taste of fame, he had loved acting. Had loved being adored for his skill, applauded for the emotions that he could evoke in crowds of people and the way he could twist people's hearts. He had wanted to be one of the best, a household name.

And now, he stared down at the script for a movie that Andrealphus knew would tank his reputation. It was absolute bullshit. The plot was held together by thin strings and a bit of glue, despite being an adaptation of one of the past decade's best selling books. Not only that, but the moment he left the safety of the apartment once more, he would also have to contend with the rumors that were steadily piling against him and dragging his loved ones and friends into it too.

All this, because Vox had refused to sleep with his shitty boss.

He could still hear the fucker's voice- come on, don't you wanna say that you got a piece of me? I'll even leave out the part about you being a transvestite, darling, just the fact that I got a piece of you is enough.

God. If only.... if only he could see that bastard's face when he crushed his fucking skull in between his hands. He wanted to see Andrealphus' stupid face contort in revulsion and terror when Vox finally did the deed, wanted to bathe in the the fotze's inbred blood. He'd do anything for the chance to just kill that piece of shit-

"Amorcito?"

Val's voice makes Vox jump on the spot, quickly shifting to hide the script from view. His friend comes around the corner, eyebrows furrowed with concern, and it's this that makes Vox break his composure, a single tear falling down his face as Val frowns, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "Voxxy, amor... tell me what's wrong."

And because he can never keep his mouth shut when it comes to his best friend, Vox tells him everything. Val nods along, pauses at the right moments, all of that stuff that friends do when they're trying to let you know that they'd rip apart your shitty boss if not for the law.

But- and perhaps this is something that Vox knew deep down to be true anyway- Val was a bit different in that aspect. He'd met the man under... less than legal circumstances, after all, and he knew that Val was the heir to quite the illustrous cartel career.

So when Valentino stops him with a firm hand on the shoulder and hands him an application paper for Hazbin, telling him to think it through, Vox barely takes even a second glance at it before filling it out.

Now, two months later and sitting in the auditorium of Hazbin's famed Music Hall, Vox doesn't find himself regretting the decision. Sure, it's a bit lonely without Val's supporting presence by his side, but the students he's met so far have proved to be some of the friendliest people he's had the pleasure of knowing: ironic, considering the kind of school they're studying at. And he's even managed to make a friend! Not that bad a start, altogether.

Vox absentmindedly doodles on the edge of his notes as Professor Leviathan's soothing voice lectures them on the importance of a proper alibi. "If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, looks like a duck, but it has an airtight alibi, it is...?"

"Not a duck," the auditorium echoes back to the professor, who nods, looking satisfied with the class's response. "So, then! The first step to alibi making is...? Miss Velvette, perhaps you'd like to answer this one for us?"

The girl sitting beside Vox shoots up in her seat, looking as if she'd just fallen asleep and was awoken by the professor's question. "Uh... the..."

After a moment of silence and stuttering, Vox takes pity on the girl, sliding Velvette over a slide of paper that she squints at before reading. "Make sure you're in a different place from the crime?"

"And how would I do that?"

"I... uh. Use an accomplice...?" Velvette stutters.

Professor Leviathan shakes his head, looking disappointed. "Not quite. One thing you will have to learn at Hazbin's is that you should never rely on any other person to carry your deed out for you. No hiring accomplices- after all, paid personnel's loyalty is shaky and they have no honor code preventing them from taking you to the police- and absolutely no committing crimes as lovers, unless you can guarantee that neither of you will be snitching. Would anyone else like to take a try?"

Vox raises his hand hesitantly. "Move the crime scene or otherwise obscure the culprit?"

Professor Leviathan snaps his fingers, "Yes! Absolutely. One of the best ways to make yourself an iron clad alibi is, if the pope is shot in the church at midnight, make sure that you are seen halfway across town in the bar at midnight; so drunk that you cannot even leave until your wife comes to pick you up at two- and no one will suspect you, even if he was actually killed right outside the pub and moved to the church instead. By moving the crime scene, you can make yourself an ironclad alibi. Obscuring the identity of the perpetrator and making it someone who couldn't possibly be you also works splendidly. After all, if the police believe the murderer to be a six foot tall adult man, then the actual perpetrator, a four foot tall young woman, would be able to pass by completely unnoticed. Thank you for that input, Vox. Now, onto the actual creation of such an alibi..."

When class ends, Vox is the first to leave his seat and head for the door, intending on leaving and getting to Track with Professor Satan as quick as possible when someone stops him in his tracks with a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Hey. Vox Vanhal, right?"

"That would be me, yes," Vox turns to face the person he's talking to, only to be met with the young woman that Professor Leviathan had called out in class earlier. "You were... Velvette?"

"Yep, that's me," the chipper young woman responds. "Listen, I know you don't know me at all, but I really need to get through this school year. Like- look, okay, I'm in a little bit over my head right now. I still want to go here and do what everyone here does, of course, I'd love to just go and plunge a damn butcher's knife into my cunt of an ex-friend's neck, but... well, you saw how I did back in class- look, what I'm trying to get at is I need someone to help me. And you're like, Leviathan's star student. So- I don't care what I have to do, I'll-"

Vox holds up a hand to stop her.

"I don't need you to do anything for me, unless you've got any tips on how to kill my boss and make him suffer during it. But I'll help you with whatever you need to study during your courses. Just..." He pauses, taking a moment to think out what he's about to ask. "Could you teach me how you did your makeup on your own?"

Velvette blinks, clearly not expecting that response. She laughs, a shrill, sharp bark and grabs his hand to shake it firmly. "Yeah, 'course I can. So, do we have a deal?"

"We do," Vox smiles. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

[mad-hunts]

so, i'm sorry in advance for the cursed images again, y'all. BUT i was thinking about it, and honestly... this is the most accurate description that i could give y'all as to what barton is like around people who he's in love with versus almost everyone else (besides those in his family and his friends + POSSIBLY others... though, even then, he might just act this way towards them 💀)

barton around his love interests:

barton around almost everyone else (at least about 50% of the time):

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[lususnatura]

FIGHTING STYLE ANALYSIS.

bold what often, or always applies to your character. italicize things that they will sometimes do. and strike out options that they never do. repost, don't reblog.

• fights honorably / fights dirty

• prefers close - quarters / prefers range

• chats during / goes silent

• low pain tolerance / high pain tolerance

• attacks in bursts / attacks steadily

• goes for the kill / aims to disarm / fights defensively / strikes first

• is provoked easily / provokes their opponent / teases

• gets visibly frustrated / shouts while attacking

• uses strategy / focuses on the battle / experiences conflicting thoughts during battle

• rushes in recklessly / tries to read their opponent before engaging

• fights wildly / fights calmly / fights apathetically / fights with anger / fights with excitement / fights with delight

• fights because they have to / fights because they want to

• fights without regard to wounds / runs away when wounded / hides wounds / takes a blow to protect another

• prefers a blade / prefers a gun / prefers hand to hand combat / prefers a bow / prefers a shield / prefers a personalised weapon / prefers magic, alchemy or spells

• their greatest weakness is physical / their greatest weakness is mental / their greatest weakness is emotional

• transforms for battle / fights as they appear

• relies on strength / doubts their strength / relies on speed

• uses everything they have / proceeds with caution / hides their full potential

• exhausts quickly / has high stamina

• behaves arrogantly / brags after landing a hit / belittles their abilities

• uses psychological tactics / uses brute strength

• tries to avoid civilians / strikes down civilians

• damages surroundings / avoids damaging surroundings

• signature fighting style / makes it up as they go

• mastered skill - set / learning their skill - set

• fancy footwork / sloppy footwork

• messy fighter / elegant fighter

• accepts defeat / refuses defeat / begs for mercy

• compliments their opponent / insults their opponent

• uses unnecessary movements / moves efficiently / barely moves

• prefers to dodge / prefers to block

• defends their blindside / has no blindside / leaves blindsides vulnerable

• uses all available advantages / strictly uses one main method

• plays around / holds back / fights ruthlessly / shows mercy

• waits for an opponent to be ready / strikes when opponent isn’t ready

• fears death / fears pain / fears killing

• has ptsd / avoids fighting

• has lost a fight / has won a fight

• has killed / refuses to kill / enjoys killing

• wants to die standing / would succumb slowly

tagged by: i stole this from one of my other accounts tehe.

tagging: anyone who wishes to do it and saw this, say i tagged you!

[sometimes-she-becomes-it]

Headcanon that Calliope most definitely wrote at least some Rose/Dave (dersecest? Is that the ship name?) fic, at least when she was *just* starting out. It just made sense to her! They're so different- a slightly vulgar brother associated with the time aspect and the color red, and a clever, witty sister who knows about a lot of stuff and happily shares said knowledge- ignore the similarities to her and caliborn- she's not projecting what are you talking about?

Point is, the ship just makes sense! At least for cherubs it does..... She wrote it before she knew incest was taboo for humans.....

[hauntingblue]

Inept 8 year old boy dragon tries to save floating island is such a concept

[frauleindermorgen]

@justices-blade sent:

"Micaiah!" Clarion clear, like jolly bells — In fact, Edward does jingle over to her, the bell on the hat he's donned tinkling with every step. There's a considerable bag of various stuff slung over his shoulder, calling to mind a particularly festive Nevassan paperboy if you look at him at the right angle — The illusion dispersed mostly by his still decidedly in school uniform, though, save his usual blue sash that he's traded out for a red and green one, bought for the occasion. Once he comes to a skipping skidding stop in front of her, he reaches to rifle in his bag. And rifles. And grumbling a little, rifles a little deeper, before: "Aha!" Grinning from ear to ear, he produces a little package, though it's hardly packed; A pair of short black fingerless gloves pulled over eachother, fashionably stitched with red thread, with a very rotund crocheted bird nestled into them, its sleepy face peeking out of the opening. (It's occurred to him, sure that he's never seen her hands wholly bare before, no matter how much blood or muck was on them, no matter if she's handling oil or water. Her fingertips are gentel, soft-seeming, but he doesn't know what's beneath. If you asked him honestly, he doesn't really care, even if she ended up having fur on her forearms or something. Or, well, he cares, but not like that. Her secrets are hers alone to give, to share, and if she ever does, he'll take hers to his grave.) "These don't stain easy, so you can get into all kinds of gunk without having to take 'em off! Also," He plucks the bird out of its little hollow, squeezes it a little, then trills, before laughing and handing her the gifts. "From me to you, for the season! Happy Winter Festival, Micaiah!!"

Before she had met the Brigade winter had been her least favorite season; it had forced her to mingle with people far before she felt ready to, just to have some warmth, but she could never explain why the hearty soups even given with the best of intentions made her sick or why the prying eyes and thoughts of men beyond the bonfire made her shiver.

With Sothe, it had been better; though he was an entirely new person to be concerned over, she found he worried about her too in turn, and the knowledge of that most times was enough to warm her by proxy and drive away the unwanted feelings of others that seemed to so often crowd her.

Together, with Nolan, and Leonardo, and Edward was the first time Micaiah had danced on bonfire night, even if it was only a tiny fire lit for the five members of their brigade; and it was in that moment, insisting Nolan come let loose with the rest of them that she first started to appreciate the merits of winter.

Now, especially at Garreg Mach, she could not hate winter if she tried.

Particularly not when it is Edward of all people acting as its emissary at her quite literal doorstep, she giggles as he digs into his bag and wonders idly how many other stops by dorms and offices he might be making.

“Oho?” She responds to his exclamation of triumph, her own curiosity replaced by swelling affection as she takes the soft packet from him as soon as its thrust upon her though carefully so might truly have a chance to look at it as she turns it over in her hands.

“Oh Edward, they’re wonderful… and whenever I look at them now I can think of you. Why, I should put them on now!”

It had been said without thinking, at first; but as the words fall from her lips they feel right. Edward had not hated her for whatever she had done in that horrible dream, and perhaps too he will not hate her now – that she has to trust.

She has to trust.

“Come in for a moment?” Micaiah asks, stepping backward so he can enter her room. The lamp at her desk is still lit, and she steps over to it, package still in hand; she carefully places the package next to it on the surface there before slipping off her right glove. The curled edge of the brand there on her hand stands out starkly in the candle light, but Micaiah makes no attempt to hide it; merely nodding at Edward again.

She picks up his package once more and walks over to him in the quiet of the moment, placing her bare hand on the little bird there as he had; she has to remind herself he won’t be cursed.

“Thank you,” she says, leaning into Edward, hand brushing up against his bag of gifts as she does so, “it’s so warm.”

[ragewrites]

pair of hounds named Comes-Back and Should Know Better. pair of hounds named Conscious Choice and Unconditional. pair of hounds named Run to You and Six Hundred Kilometers.

[anthromimicry]

where do you carry your pain?

your arms.

you have tried to hold onto what is dear to you, only for it to be wrenched from your hands...

tagged by: @divingdownthehole!

tagging: @frostise, @redvived, @dispatched, @twcfaces, @vulpesse, and anyone else who might like to do this quiz!

[t1erradelfuego]

web weaving or whatever

[mad-hunts]

i like how barton went from being like... a hippie in terms of how he viewed sex in his early twenties, then kind of abstained from it for a few years / became sexually repressed, which... definitely isn't such a good thing. BUT then he became even more of a freak (and i do mean that in the good way this time LOL) around the time he started residency because WOW is that shit stressful. though that was also unfortunately around the time when he really started to spiral as well 😬 but we don't need to talk about that ahahhh

like the way this man learned how to express his sexuality REALLY came full circle in the end considering he was like 'yeah, back in the early days that i was in college, i was a freak. but now i'm not anymore... though do you want to see me do it again anyway?' like 💀 JSJSJ if he weren't so demented, i'd almost be inclined to say good for him, y'all LMAO feeling comfortable with your sexuality and perhaps even having a bit of fun with it (though maybe too much in barton's case, because he literally weaponizes it in order to lure in his victims. BUT once again, we don't need to talk about that right now psshhh. i actually fully intend on talking about that in the tags NGL) is more often than not a good thing after all

[brokentoys]

child ocs would actually be the easiest kind of fam - ocs for eddie to interact with because he likely has a few illegitimate children he doesn't know of :')

[lususnatura]

i just have one more thing to say about him before i go to sleep, and that's this: i've been thinking about making blamore an herbalist that's partially self-taught + also had asked someone to also teach him about it and i think i'm going to do it. because i think it would really fit for his character, since blamore would likely do it as a way to try to find out ways to ease its own pain (particularly his nerve pain) at first. but... all i can imagine now is blamore stumbling across someone's muse in the event that they are friends and them being injured / in pain.

and as a result, it would want to try to help alleviate them of their suffering; so if they had burns and/or cuts, then he'd rub a herbal salve into their skin where it was affected to help treat them. and maybeee he'd give them a bath or something in yarrow if they had a fever because it has been shown to have REALLY good anti-pyretic (anti-fever) abilities. so i basically just imagined it trying to nurse them back to health at least a little bit, and i 😭 i'm putting this on my wishlist on here now because this is just too damn sweet albeit in an angsty way to not do so. but of course, if they were like on death's door or something, then it would definitely just be using some of these herbal cures in the meantime until he could get an medical doctor out there like nico to help them. but it's the thought that counts in the end

[transingthoseformers]

I love how I carelessly implied Swindle not only existed in TFP but we all accepted it