—— OFF WITH MY HEAD!

❝ DO YOU LOVE ME ENOUGH? WHAT IF I PUT YOUR HANDS IN MY CHEST AND AROUND MY HEART; WHAT IF I GAVE YOU MY MIND RIBBONED WITH MY VEINS; WHAT IF I TWISTED MY LIMBS OUT OF THEIR SOCKETS; WHAT IF I PUT ON MY PRETTIEST HEAD; DO YOU LOVE ME THEN? ❞ fandomless android original character.

[iimposter]

headcanon. 

If Hunter can, he will nibble and gnaw on people’s fingers like a teething puppy. 

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if anyone is looking for hunter, he will be partying at area 51 w a stolen alien 

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cursedmenagerie‌:

　　　“Wha- No. Not happening.” Eugene is already on edge just being near the car. It probably costs as much as his life. Or at least most of his organs. He wants to do something to get Hunter to get off of the thing but he can’t quite muster up the courage to do more than plead with him. He better not leave a dent in the hood. “Let’s just go before the owner shows up, please.”

          Watch him starfish over this pristine hood and just try to stop him. Hunter would love to see this weedy little guy try. 

         “What was that? You want to join me? Darling, I thought you’d never ask!” Like the dutiful, thoughtful pal he is, he rolls over and pats the empty space next to him. “Come on over and get a feel for yourself, there’s more than enough room for the both of us. Don’t Leonardo DiCaprio me.” 

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omatics‌:

❝   oh ,  my !!   ❞

♥   ──   her  heels  still  click - clack  on  the  asphalt ,  now  a  little  redder .  it’s  easy  to  push  down  worry ,  to  banish  fear .  she  knows  what  she’s  doing ,  he  would  know  if  she  didn’t .  grace  hargreeves  isn’t  a  good  liar ,  after  all . 

she’s  concerned  about  the  eye ,  stepping  over  his  legs  and  kneeling  to  get  a  closer  look  at  his  face .  poor  thing ,  he’s  not  pretending .  grace  doesn’t  ask  for  more  permission  to  touch  him ,  she  assumes  she’s  earned  it  and  makes  a  grab  for  his  face . 

the  alley  lights  up  to  her  eyes  only ,  dark - vision  has  its  uses .  she  turns  his  head  to  get  a  better  look . 

❝   you  should’ve  lead  with  the  eye ,  mister .  i  think  you’ll  need  surgery ,  unless  you’d like  to  lose  it .  i  hope  you  don’t .   ❞

she  continues  speaking ,  leaving  no  pause  for  him  to  interject . 

❝   can  you  walk ?  either  way  i’m  not  going  to  give  you  a  choice  about  whether  you’ll  keep  it .   ❞

           When she grabs his precious face, can Grace see the misery in his faulty, somewhat wonky eyes? The tirade of unspoken pleas for just a scrap of sympathy? Oh, has she ever seen a soul as pitiful as him? 

          “Lose my eye?” Hunter smacks his palm onto his chest, right over his nonexistent heart. “Darling, no! I’ll never be able to pull off an eyepatch! You’re saying that just to scare me, aren’t you? And here I thought you were nice.” 

          He waves off her enquiry on whether he can walk. No, dear Miss Grace, he can’t stand and teeter on his own two feet yet. His legs are kaput, useless, and there is only one cure for limp knees. He rolls onto his front and crawls over to where that scoundrel is slumped on the concrete --- and would you look at that, he’s still knocked out cold. Hunter hums a tune as he fumbles with the stranger’s jeans, patting him down, and lo and behold: in the back pocket, lucky ol’ Hunter stumbles upon a rather plump wallet. The second he slips the wallet into the inside of his jacket, his legs suddenly feel good as new. Miracle cures really do exist! 

          “Tell me, will you give me a new eye?” he asks as he stands up with a jovial bounce. “Maybe one with your colour - what do you think?” 

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idk.... i’m not entirely happy with hunter’s backstory so i might change it 

[celebritiesandmovies]

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@omatics​ | continued from here.

         His guardian angel! His Wonder Woman of the night; his dazzling heroine, here to save good citizens like him from dastardly muggers. Why would Hunter ever need to dust off his combat drivers when he has dashing, lipsticked heroines swooping in to his aid?

         From where he’s sprawled on the ground, he takes a look at her, his fallen assailant, and then her again. Her silhouette is blurred, glitching with violent dashes of green and white. Whatever hell this mysterious good-doer ( Grace, her name turns out to be; an elegant syllable that tapers into a delicate hiss ) unleashed onto that bastard, Hunter wishes he had seen it. The stuff of action movies that would have been!

         With the back of his hand theatrically pressed against his brow, he flops back onto the damp, grimy asphalt with a thump. “I am gravely wounded, Miss Grace. My hair is mussed, my poor head is pounding, and my pride is in shambles. Come, come see for yourself.” 

          He squints upwards. “And my eye is ruptured----- but Miss Grace, my hair.” 

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artifexed replied to your post “for every person taller than hunter i’m adding one more inch to him ”

wtf rude

what? i can’t hear u down there :)

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@cursedmenagerie | s.c.

          “If only,” laments Hunter from where he’s sprawled over the hood of a glossy Centenario. He drapes a hand over his forehead and lets out a needless sigh, dialling up the damsel in distress to eleven. “If only there was someone with special powers who can be my sidekick, but it looks like I have no one at all. Here to brave the world with no one but my lonely old self. I guess I’ll have to find a way to take this car alone...” His eyes snap over to the spectacled bystander. “Unless?” 

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@griefkept | s.c.

         “Ugh. Awful. Terrible. The stuff of nightmares.” Hunter’s skin is crawling under his shirt as he stares at his newest fear ( or rather, gaggle of fears ) in their beady eyes: a line of wooden ducks, ominously staring down from their throne on the top shelf. His hand warily reaches out towards a wooden beak --- and before his fingertips touch it, he jumps like a startled cat and recoils from the inanimate beast. “Gah! Why would you ever carve those monsters?”

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sociialpath‌:

What the fuck?

At first he’s about to make a run for it, expecting some asshole to come up and try to sell him watches or some other useless shit but that thought is squashed the moment he actually turns around, brows furrowing in confusion and mild concern. Quentin isn’t one to judge though and a lighter is handed over pretty much right away.  “ This just for a cigarette or you on another poison? “ Curiosity in his tone, emerald hues scanning the other up and down. Weird dude.

          This good Samaritan might as well have handed Hunter the moon and the stars from their inky night sky. Hunter snatches it up before he can change his mind on helping a poor little soul like him ( as are humans are known to do; so fickle ). "My guardian angel!” 

         After he lights up his cigarette and sucks in a nice, deep drag, he slips the lighter into the breast pocket of his suit, tucking it behind his pocket square. Safe and sound. “A poison?” Oooh. He leans in, stare zeroing in on this curious little redhead. “Like what, arsenic?” 

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for every person taller than hunter i’m adding one more inch to him 

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@sociialpath​ | s.c.

          “You! Yes, you!” Can he look any more pitiful and anguished? Any more tormented? Hunter is short of outright begging on his knees; his hands are clasped, his brows drawn, and he’s stooping down to the stranger’s height with oceans of fierce, fervid eye contact. 

         “Do you have a lighter? I’m gasping for a smoke. I’m dying. I’m wasting away with every second. Look, honey, I’m already getting the shakes!” 

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@artifexed | s.c.

        “You humans really love pointless tools,” muses Hunter as he plucks at the strings of Josiah’s... what’s it again? One of those millions upon millions of instruments that spark out a melody when teased just right ----- a guitar. That’s it. It strums a nonsensical tune when he tugs at a few strings, its taut strings vibrating cheerfully. “If I ask very, very nicely, will you teach me how to play?” 

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short & sweet starter call! <3

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someone, minding their own business and ignoring hunter for 3.7 minutes: 

hunter, giving up after lighting four fires for their attention: so i am Ready to Perish

[iimposter]

“Take me apart, honey. It’s just plastic.”

hardware moodboard.