* delicate weapon

creation  is  the  sibling  of  destruction.

[deathsmith]

#𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑺𝑴𝑰𝑻𝑯.  quetzalli navarro, an independent fallout: new vegas original character based on the gun runners with multiple universes as works in progress. heavy themes will be present on this blog, so much like the game: eighteen plus. various themes will be explored on this blog including: post-modern capitalism, the commodification of the self, annihilation as an art form, and countless others. inspired by various mediums but mainly fallout and the post apocalyptic genre as a whole. loved by aloe (twenty eight, she/her’s).

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃. 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆.

[deathsmith]

[wildlittlebirdd]

[deathsmith]

𝘥𝘪𝘥  𝘺𝘰𝘶  𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳  𝘵𝘳𝘺  𝘵𝘰  𝘱𝘶𝘵  𝘢  𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯  𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦  𝘰𝘧  𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴  𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬  𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳?  𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯  𝘪𝘧  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴  𝘧𝘪𝘵,  𝘺𝘰𝘶  𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵  𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦  𝘪𝘵  𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦  𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘸𝘢𝘺  𝘪𝘵  𝘸𝘢𝘴.  𝘣𝘶𝘵  𝘪𝘧  𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦  𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳,  𝘺𝘰𝘶  𝘤𝘢𝘯  𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭  𝘶𝘴𝘦  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴  𝘵𝘰  𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦  𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳  𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭  𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.  𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦  𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯  𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨  𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭,  𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦  𝘢  𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘤.  𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭,  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥  𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦  𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵  𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦  𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴.  𝘢𝘯𝘥  𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴  𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨  𝘵𝘰  𝘱𝘶𝘵  𝘪𝘵  𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬  𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳  𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦  𝘪𝘵  𝘸𝘢𝘴,  𝘣𝘶𝘵  𝘪𝘵'𝘭𝘭  𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳  𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦  𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳  𝘪𝘯  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦  𝘸𝘢𝘺.

[deathsmith]

❛  i’m  calling  it  the  reckoner.  ❜  her latest sniper rifle, a nasty assortment of distant death. the last thing they’ll never see. it even has an auto targeting system.  ❛  sales  are  negotiable,  but  non-refundable.  ❜

@endlines​ liked.

[deathsmith]

❛  please  be  careful  with  that,  aloy.  ❜  the weaponsmith looks concerned, her gaze landing on where the head of the spear meets the body,  ❛  if  you  press  that  button  on  the  side  you’ll  go  flying.  you  know  those...  tearblast  arrows?  i  made  it  into  a  spear.  ❜

@allmothered​  liked.

[deathsmith]

@naboocrowned​ asked: ' the world is changing. '

𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐰𝐚𝐬  𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫  𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭.  if one didn’t pay attention slipping under the dunes was assured. quetzalli, like most creators, tried to move with it rather than against it. the only real thing for sure was at the end of the day; put two people on a piece of land  —  eventually they’ll want to kill each other. the gunsmith just had to make sure that it was her weapons that are the means to end them. brown eyes glance upward, she notices the way her lips grow thin; worried, but for the life of her she can’t make reason as to why this concerns her so badly.

❛  if  it  wasn’t  changing  something  would  be  wrong.  ❜  the mechanic remarks haphazardly as the press goes off, another bullet made.  ❛  it’s  a  feature,  everything  changes.  why’s  it  got  your  goat  so  bad?  that’s  life.  ❜

[deathsmith]

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄: 𝐅𝐀𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄.

                 (  𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩   𝐚  𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐥𝐞  𝐛𝐲  𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫  𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞.  )

there was some bridge of uneasiness when the seeds rolled into town but your parents had other priorities. the opening of their shop; navarro’s. a gun emporium in the hills of the whitetails mountains. ideal for all of your hunting needs, but oh, you were always the black sheep of the family. the only one not a true navarro. you nearly died at eleven years old due to your parents’ and their negligence while you toiled away at the workshop, became the laughing stock of your family ‘til you were happily handed over to your aunt and cousin; adelia and necalli, who were already prone to being the subjects of unruly whispers and shared glances.

your siblings dropped off like flies as the project at eden’s gate began to swell, because they wanted something more than guns, grease and the family’s gifts to protect. ultimately, you don’t blame them, joseph seed’s sermons are too good to pass up most days but you’ve never been the religious type, and god ain’t exactly on your side. you end up helping your parents take care of the shop until the worst thing happens. your parents sell it, and everything in it to the seeds. they join, because if you can’t beat ‘em. join ‘em.

they knew you’d be pissed, hell, they didn’t even give you a chance to grab the schematics you had in the shop.

it’s cruel, but not unlike them, anything to drive that knife just a little deeper. 

their music is catchy, if it wasn’t for the fact you found them fucking insane you might even think they’re decent people. however their mac and cheese is watery and simply does not pass the vibe check. you wish you were that petty, but the truth is something gnaws at your bones when you see them. like prey, every sinew and bone tells you to run; to flee, to do what prey does but you don’t you stay because part of you thinks you should’ve died as a child. that you can’t cheat death, you can only avoid it for so long.

you want to fight, but you’re no good at it. you want to scream, but your voice is shaky at best. you’re prey, you’re prey that makes very very good weapons. so you better start praying for real because your family, the one were born into… they’re coming for you, and navarros don’t generally settle for anything less. if the seeds want you with them, the navarros will make sure it’s done. whether you want it or not. 

[deathsmith]

happy autism visibility month, casual reminder that quetzalli navarro is on the spectrum in a major way.

[margotskarsgard]

[lindsemyorgan]

↘ Celebrating Raven Reyes ‘cause my girl is not getting enough screen time

[deathsmith]

𝘥𝘪𝘥  𝘺𝘰𝘶  𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳  𝘵𝘳𝘺  𝘵𝘰  𝘱𝘶𝘵  𝘢  𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯  𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦  𝘰𝘧  𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴  𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬  𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳?  𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯  𝘪𝘧  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴  𝘧𝘪𝘵,  𝘺𝘰𝘶  𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵  𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦  𝘪𝘵  𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦  𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘸𝘢𝘺  𝘪𝘵  𝘸𝘢𝘴.  𝘣𝘶𝘵  𝘪𝘧  𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦  𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳,  𝘺𝘰𝘶  𝘤𝘢𝘯  𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭  𝘶𝘴𝘦  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴  𝘵𝘰  𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦  𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳  𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭  𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.  𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦  𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯  𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨  𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭,  𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦  𝘢  𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘤.  𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭,  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥  𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦  𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵  𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦  𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴.  𝘢𝘯𝘥  𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴  𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨  𝘵𝘰  𝘱𝘶𝘵  𝘪𝘵  𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬  𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳  𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦  𝘪𝘵  𝘸𝘢𝘴,  𝘣𝘶𝘵  𝘪𝘵'𝘭𝘭  𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳  𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦  𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳  𝘪𝘯  𝘵𝘩𝘦  𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦  𝘸𝘢𝘺.

[deathsmith]

@themechaneer​ asked: Hc prompt;; What’s her favorite way to unwind?

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲,  𝐢𝐭'𝐬  𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝  𝐟𝐨𝐫  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐭𝐨  𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥  𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭  𝐢𝐬  𝐚  𝐰𝐚𝐲  𝐭𝐨  𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝.     she lives in an environment where creation and productivity are key elements not only to live, but to being worthy of life. one of her favorite things to do is color. specifically, coloring and drawing things that may not be schematics. she finds old world coloring books and has them completely done in her room, her other favorite thing is something the courier brought her back from big mt; a robo-scorpion that she’s named frank lee annoying. 

[deathsmith]

@themechaneer​ asked:  Hc prompt;; Most prominent memory from her childhood?

𝐢𝐭  𝐜𝐚𝐧  𝐛𝐞  𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝  𝐥𝐨𝐰-𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭,  the obvious elephant in the room. in most cases it’s the very first thing people notice about her. not the weapons on the walls, not the sheer amount of things that can kill you that she stores like trophies. it’s the arm, it’s the face. the scars that tell a story she doesn’t want to open about. she’s eleven when it happens, she knows all of the rules of the navarro household, but yet she can’t help herself, and she goes into the garage; where all the things to create weapons are stored. she wants to make her mother a gift, oh but it appears quetzalli should’ve known better, they never wanted gifts. they never wanted her. 

things get weird, she loses control of the circular saw and it etches across her face down her collar bone and hits her the end of her shoulder with a violent crack. her parents either choose not to hear her or not to acknowledge the screams but when the saw hits the ground and they hear money going out the window; they run to see the horror. to see lourdes daughter crying out covered in blood with bones protruding, cuts along her face and chest serve to emphasize this terrifying feeling, there is no comfort in the crying child’s screams for help. quetzalli learns from this that people don’t want to help; they want the screaming to stop. she learns a lot in the six months that follow, that her cousin and her aunt love her more than her family, that she’s not stupid. she just was different. that those differences were something to be proud of rather than held against you like a finely sharpened knife. that night was terrifying, but what scarred her the most was the betrayal of her family, of her own mother, who left her alone in the clinic as soon as she was allowed to leave.

[deathsmith]

@allmothered​​ asked:  “spend most of your life on the outside looking in, nothing really surprises you.”

𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡  𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭  𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞.   it’s not something she’d inherited like the skills she’d become known for, it’s an altogether different beast; one of the few quetzalli navarro is not keen on conquering. doe eyes glance to the fiery redhead who has become known throughout the land. she shifts, and her slow response is not without any history, but the fact she hasn’t looked away means that aloy has her attention and maybe a sinewy strand of sympathy. it feels like choking, these words threatening to bubble over. she isn’t the sharing type, and yet she feels the need. there’s commonality there, an understanding that is etched in grief along her bones. grieving for what she should’ve had but never had access to, the possibility of who she might have been when fostered under different care. wholly irrelevant, but still grief. she wonders for a moment if the huntress carries it in her bones too, like a blanket.

❛  all  my  life.  ❜  three simple words speak more volumes than she dares to acknowledge, that is, if one is perceptive they’ll know what she means. the realm of the outsider is a lonely one built on the dreams of what-ifs, and the harsh realities of what-is. she’s right, one learns quick to wish in one hand and shit in the other  —  to see which weighs more; which holds more realness. she’s quiet after for a few more moments, tinkering with a weapon bigger than the both of them. she’s calling it a shredder. a minigun capable of tearing anything to pieces, should be mounted on a surface, not carried in the hands.  ❛  i  get  it,  no  expectations  means  no  surprises  but  no  disappointments  either.  ❜ brown eyes glance from the weapon to the redhead once more before handing her a weapon, it may not be the shiniest thing, but it looks like it packs a punch. and maybe a blast. she shifts, eyes alit with something that can only be read as second-hand excitement. living vicariously through the people that utilize her weapons.  ❛  give  it  a  spin,  take  it  out  on  the  local  flora  and  fauna;  see  how  it  treats  ya.  you  can’t  repair  it,  s’rigged  to  blow  if  you  try.  ❜  a  toothy grin, follows before she taps the counter,   ❛  what?  i  guard  my  schematics  with  my  life,  don’t  just  hand  ‘em  out  for  free.  you  give  it  a  test  run,  i’ll  give  you  it,  and  an  upgrade.  ❜

[notmorbid]

a lush and seething hell, pt. 2.

dialogue prompts from a lush and seething hell: two tales of cosmic horror by john hornor jacobs.

i don’t know that i signed up for this.

the world is changing.

if we don’t take things down, they might be forgotten.

you’ve got your blinders on.

you’re lucky as fuck i’m here.

what happened is unforgivable.

i don’t want to argue about it.

this house is fucked up. this room is fucked up.

the only devils are men.

drinking makes me mean-spirited.

you’ve got a mouth full of questions.

might want to send the young ones out.

what a morbid little tune.

it’s not a song you can unhear.

why would you leave me?

how long have i been unconscious?

don’t talk like that. it’s morbid.

do you think i’m mad?

you’re different, if i might say.

spend most of your life on the outside looking in, nothing really surprises you.

a man who thinks he can’t be surprised is likely to get a big one.

are you religious?

i didn’t want you to get all righteous.

will you play something else for me?

nobody around here will care.

word tends to travel fast around here.

this better be good.

i’m about ready for my pajamas and some hbo.

you can be haunted without ever seeing a ghost.

how long have you known?

music is a thought that becomes sound.

i’ve already seen everything you’ve got.

why is it that even after you’re gone, even dead and in the ground, people still want to talk to you?

i swear every word is true.

some endings are final. 

this is where people come to die.

there’s always pleasure to be found somewhere.

what isn’t about death? it’s all about death.

just because you’re crazy doesn’t mean you’re crazy.

you can ask the angel all the questions you’ve got.

digging a grave is much harder than it looks on tv. 

[deathsmith]

*  .  .  .  courier six. *  .  .  .  gun runners. *  .  .  .  asks. *  .  .  .  prompts. *  .  .  .  soundtrack. *  .  .  .  wishlist. *  .  .  .  ooc. *  .  .  .  billboard. *  .  .  .  dash games. *  .  .  .  dash comm.