It's Just Trolls

I have so many troll things that I need a separate blog. We are 18+ over here because we are a little nasty and a little mean. pfp is my bastard son drawn by Norts-Trolls

[justfortrolls]

*~*~Welcome~*~*

Hello, this is my main Fantroll blog.

Overall sfw but occasionally contains: non-graphic depictions of violence, dialogue ranges from mildly suggestive (common) to graphically violent (uncommon), suggestive art and topics.

Art Tag

Character Directory

Commissions are open on Kofi

Always open for asks

High Muses: Hiyett, Bobbug, Orsair, Ria

[theboxfort]

Unstoppable Force (my love of seeing other people's takes/stylization on my OCs) vs Immovable Object (my gripping fear of not doing other people's OCs enough justice when I draw them)

[important-cat-pics]

[justfortrolls]

Someone is being Uncooperative-

Ria: hit em with your car

Orsair: It's not that easy

Ria: it literally is

Orsair: No. You do your research, learn their routine, make sure no one can trace the incident back to you and have systems in place to reduce collateral damage as much as possible. Then you hit them with a car. Not your car. Idiot.

[justfortrolls]

I miss these assholes ;-;

[justfortrolls]

Bend The Knee: Anrifi and Tyimmy become Moirails, 56 dead, 38 injured.

(Listen, I don't even know man, uuuuhhh like 2K words and depictions of gore and violence. Fishes in distress.)

Toimmi's dead. That's the only explanation for whatever nightmare just found its way into your ears. You were in the middle of tearing some imperial attack dog's head off their shoulders when you heard a horrible, organ shaking roar. You've never heard it before. You'd definitely remember if you did. But you know, somewhere deep down in you, or maybe it's Tyrant's Folly whispering you answers, that it's Tyimmy.

He sounds hurt.

You run.

You don't know how any of this happened. It was all so- just too fucking fast. Things were fine until they weren't and then suddenly there were a dozen strangers for every friend you have and people were dying. Voices both familiar and not clashed around you trying to make sense of things as shit hit the fan.

Where are they? Who can we take? Who's not worth it? Match the warrants. What's happening? Search the houses. Smoke them out. Help. Help. Anrifi HELP

You've never pulled Tyrant's Folly so fast in your life. You've never gotten it dirty so fast in your life either.

You got lucky. Seems they weren't expecting you to bring god bones to the knife fight. After the initial skirmish you managed to snag someone, a friend, and get it in their head to trip the emergency alarm then get the fuck out of dodge. Scatter, don't look back, play dirty. Survive.

You don't know where they went, if they got out, but you can hear the alarm blaring loud and consistent over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. You fucking love your neighbors. No one else will get caught off guard, now. Those who can run will run, those who can't will stay and shred every person they come across to bloody bits till they themselves collapse.

If you were smart, if you listened to any sense of reason, you would have gunned it for one of the exits too. But you're stupid. You're stupid and you knew there were people worth your life still left deeper in the cavern. Now, thanks to that terrible noise you didn't even think trolls could make, you know where at least one of them is.

You take swipes at and chunks out of a few trolls from whatever group managed to ambush your home while you run. They make it easy to see them, all dressed in gear too polished and effective to be anything your people could get their hands on. The damage you do is nothing lethal, probably, maybe, but you'd like to see them put up their best fight against your fam with a torn Achilles' or severed spine. You're chumming the waters, not really clearing things out, but that's fine by you. You cover ground fast, sprinting through the streets and almost slipping in someone's spilled guts. It's not long at all till you see the soft pink three story building that you were never allowed to enter.

Siren Medical. Not where people went to get fixed up, but where they got what they needed to soothe what couldn't be fixed. You got your drugs from here. You owe this place what peace you found in the late days. It was always locked to you. Safety reasons. Now you're kicking open the front door.

There's no one immediately that you can see, but you hear fighting, you smell blood. You can taste rage and sorrow and salt in the air as you pant, frantic. You take the stairs three at a time and when you make it to what is supposed to be the safest place in the whole Underdraft you see nothing but carnage.

You were right, Toimmi's dead. The little ghost you barely met that kept your people from hurting and shared roof and face and youth with Tyimmy is slumped against the wall across from you. The head is half crushed in, splattered pink against the wall, a pool of it forming under a pale, pajama clad body. You note, with some twinge of pride, flickering like a single candle in the whirlwind of animal fear and grief, that there is blood on Toimmi's claws. It's blue.

There's a whole lot more of that same blue blood all along the floor. You see an arm in one corner, a leg in another, and what's left of the body lies disemboweled at the foot of Toimmi's bed. It's not the only one. You don't have time to really think about how many bodies there are in this one tiny room, but your nose picks up on things without your direction. You smell at least eight different kinds of troll blood that isn't your own.

One is for sure Tyimmy's. You'd know that smell anywhere.

He's chest down on the ground, face turned to the side and a boot on the back of his neck. They have two people holding each arm and three others keeping the rest of him down with their whole weight. The one with the boot, who's panting as much as the rest of them, was about ready to put a sword tip right through Tyimmy's skull when you came rushing in.

"Wait!" You yell. You don't mean to put any weight to it, it's desperation rather than authority, but they all flinch and pause and look at you, fear flashing briefly across their faces. One twitches to run like a rabbit who caught whiff of a wildcat too close for comfort. But they stay, they bear it, they got a duty. You get that.

"Wait." You say again, letting Tyrant's Folly fizzle out of your hands, steadying your tone. The room darkens as the weapon leaves. Some of your edge dulls, but there's enough still lingering that colors remain bright and soft sounds are clear. You can whip it back out in a second if you need to, you got enough blood on your clothes, but there's no way they're letting you get close if you're armed.

You show your palms, inch over to them little by little. The sword moves away from Tyimmy, good, and points at you, better but still not great. Or you thought, but Tyimmy growls as soon as the blade gets level with your chest. He starts to thrash, as much as he can, very clearly trying to get an arm loose. Oh he's fucking gone, ain't he? Damn.

The sword swings back down and slices shallow into the nape of his neck and you- you fucking panic.

"Stop! Stop it- just- you don't need to hurt him, let me talk to him." You plead. It's pleading, for sure. You're on your knees in all ways but physical.

"Hell of a fighter," the sword troll says. Their voice is cold, heavy, but not like Tyimmy's. Feels like a boot on your throat. Fitting. "Took out four of my squad before getting downed. Could make use of someone like him. If there's a him left in there." They shift the blade to move some of Tyimmy's hair out of his eyes. They're red, bright and shining and the pupils are pinpricks so small you almost can't see them. Tyimmy snaps forward, trying to, what, bite the sword? He fucking would- but it just cuts him on the face.

The sword troll clicks their tongue. "All I see here is a feral animal needing to be put down." The blade comes up again, pointed at your face, and Tyimmy is no more chill about it than the first time but the boot just grinds down harder. "You gonna fix that for me?"

Oh you haaate this motherfucker. Your fins pin flat with distaste and there's a growl you can't choke back in your throat. You could probably skewer them quick enough if you dove for it. They tilt their head at you as if they heard your very thoughts. They do some gesture with their hand as the sword lowers to rest just the point on Tyimmy's head, and the people on his legs grab and bend and push with their whole strength and Tyimmy's tough but legs don't bend that way they don't they're gonna pop his kneecap or something FUCK

"Fuck! Fine- yes- yes, just get off him for a second."

The trolls by Tyimmy's legs stop.

"No. Make do." Is what the sword troll tells you, moving not a single breadth of an inch.

You glare at them some more but manage not to growl. This troll reminds you of Orsair a little bit- oh fuck oh shit oh motherfucker where are the twins? They're a thousand percent dead for sure if they get caught- you hear an explosion off in the distance. You're not the only one, you see several of the strangers' ears twitch, even Tyimmy seems to note the sound. You're not sure if anyone but you and him can pick up on the smell of burning flesh though, as subtle as it is to start. Or the far off sound of laughter and gunfire that you actually might be imagining. On second thought, you think Orsair and Riasro will be fine. You hope.

You slink forward, careful, controlled, making your movements easy to see and predict, and get down low by Tyimmy's head. Well, the whole all but physically thing didn't last too long you guess. You hate the pang of gratefulness you feel when the sword blade stops touching him. You don't wanna be grateful for shit this bastard does, but they're watching you, expecting you to fix the problem. You turn your eyes down to Tyimmy. He's still not looking at you but that doesn't really mean anything. With how he went after the sword with bloody teeth you don't think touching him is a good move right now.

So you talk. That could work.

"Hey big guy," You start, watching carefully for any recognition on his face. "You in there, baby? I know it's scary, I know it's all fucked, but you gotta say something, honey. Gotta know you're with us."

Tyimmy's breathing is ragged, he's looking anywhere but at you and twitching like crazy. You can see that his eyes fall on one of the corpses and he tries to struggle towards it, teeth gnashing. When he gets too lively the people on his legs shift again and your stomach sinks.

"Or don't. Fuck- you don't have to say a single goddamn word if you can't manage it. But you gotta give me something, Tyimmy. I know you're in there. I know you can see me. You can see me, right?"

His eyes flick over you at the prompt but it doesn't help him. You look a goddamn mess probably and you always made it his responsibility to fix it. He makes a noise. A warped, wet growl. It's a break in his blind rage. You glance up to the booted troll and they don't seem convinced. Fuck. Fuck.

Your heartbeat feels like a ticking clock. You don't know how long you have or if you can even do this at all. You're not good at this. You can't help people. You don't calm things. You don't soothe. All you're good at is lying and fighting and touching-

Fuck it then. Fuck it. Fuck it to death and back again ten times over. You reach out and touch Tyimmy's face. He bites you, hard, but you don't flinch from him. You lose some meat on the thumb side of your hand but you don't care. You bleed all over Tyimmy's face and you don't care. He shudders, for some reason.

"It's cold, yeah? Sorry dawg, that's just how blood be. But it's okay." You say, petting his cheek, spreading more of your curse over his skin. He chases after your hand with his tongue and you pause. When you shift it back down into his reach he latches on like you're spilling life itself onto the floor and he's pissed at you for it. Your other hand goes to run through his hair. Man this hurts, ow. "C'mon baby I need you to try. Anything. Have to let them know you're still here. Please- let me know you're still here." If your voice cracks you think that's well fucking justified and you dare anyone to say otherwise. You know he can hear you. You know he can.

He looks at you, for real, finally, teeth still grinding the only delicate bones you have. He blinks once, eyes hardening, then he lets you go. You see him think, you see him find no words he can say. So instead he tilts his head to the side and rests it on the floor with a gruff exhale, bearing his neck to you. A stretch so purposeful and calculated that a frightened animal would never dare. That's a fully conscious troll surrender. The sword troll hums, acknowledging.

You relax just a fraction. You're petting him more for your sake now than his. If you stop touching him you think you'll die.

His mouth is a sticky colorful mess, fuschia and various blues and violet smeared on his lips, snarling weakly, clacking his teeth together even now. A fang is missing, no doubt buried in the bone of one of the room's corpses. He's breathing hard, but trying to not, and there's something leaking out of his eyes-

He's crying.

Something breaks in you, seeing his face like that. What spills out isn't fiery anger, not some roaring call to revenge yourself on these sorry excuses for trolls that are left in the room. It's a warm, sad feeling, leaks out from the cracks in your ribs and spreads out into your veins. From horn tip to toe you are consumed by it. Shit's scary.

You lay your fucked up hand on the portion of neck he exposed to you. He allows it. His pulse is frantic, right under your palm. It occurs to you, sudden and distressing like a lightning strike, that you could save him here. Save him from whatever is going to happen when the dust settles. He wouldn't go out on a stranger's steel. It would be skin to skin, done quick, from claws you've had him kiss and a hand he's held. Mercy is yours to give, in this moment.

But you're no benevolent king. You're just a selfish asshole.

"I got you." You say, soft, hoarse from screams you know you'll have to give more of when the empire snatches you up for questioning. You pet along the darkened skin of his gills even as your hand trembles. Tyimmy makes a low, miserable sound, and you see the last of the fight leave his arms.

You look up at the troll with the sword. They're watching you, cold, considering.

"I got him."

"That you do." They say, then bring a hand up to their ear, talking into some kind of radio. "Transport vessels still inbound? Over."

You feel your fins flick to attention. Even with all their fancy privacy tech, if it's happening this close then you can make out the other end of the conversation no issue.

"Affirmative. Over."

"Pick up the pace. This bunch is unruly. Over."

"Copy. Over."

Tyimmy twitches and you see his hands clench. You slip your fingers up to carefully force out some of the tension in his jaw. It's a bandaid to a bullet wound, you know, but it's something. By the time his teeth stop grinding you can hear more people stomping up the stairs, more radios, large vehicles making their way through the streets. You don't even know how they got those in the cavern.

You are so utterly fucked.

[justfortrolls]

I think Homestuck really skewed my perspective on the "appropriate" amount of swears there are meant to be in any given work of written fiction.

[groovyfran-png]

"Do you insert yourself as the top/bottom of your favorite ship?" No, I'm the cameraman

[imperial-refuse]

// new cusp troll on its way.... eventually.......

[justfortrolls]

*crawls up on my crackship soap box*

No see one of the reasons Grey and Tyimmy work is because when Grey knuckles up and is like "Let's make this an official thing" with all this firey determination and hope in his eyes Tyimmy just blinks at him, looks away, and says "Okay."

Grey is too stupid to see 'lack of eye contact + no enthusiasm = Not A Real Yes'. He's just already celebrating.

But that's okay because it was a Real Yes from Tyimmy. He said okay and if he wasn't okay with it he wouldn't have said okay. He trusts Grey to hear just what he's saying and not think deeper into it and create a meaning he didn't intend.

Anyway they're kissing nasty style.

[justfortrolls]

Something I realized while bonking dolls together with Kanny one time:

Anrifi doesn't understand that different castes age differently.

He doesn't really ask people's ages beyond 'are you a kid' when he's out socializing. He can't tell if someone is 'old for a oliveblood' vs 'old for a violetblood'. It's all the same amount of sweeps to him.

But I think the first time he sees people that are explicitly the same age technically but on opposite ends of the spectrum he's gonna have a 'woah. That's fucked' reaction.

His whole 'i'm gonna be young and sexy forever' thing was more about his perception of who he was and his mindset, not like,,, a real thing he thought would happen.

Que him having to rapidly process that Orsair is Old and Ria is Old and Goldie is Old and Basura is Old they're all gonna die way way way before him.

[justfortrolls]

Anrifi is a quadrant blurring fuck because what do you mean you gotta take a whiff of your shark and grip onto him tight as hell before you feel stable enough to walk away from a terrible situation-

That's some <> shit

[justfortrolls]

Now that I'm thinking about it how the hell did Anrifi and Hiyett even meet? We're introduced to them as having an established relationship that is semi flirtatious and mainly exploitative. But are close enough to talk deep into the night and for Hiyett to know about Anrifi's nightmares (from a scrapped chat log I never posted) and for Hiyett to be genuinely concerned when Anrifi stopped talking to him. Hmmmmmmmmm

They probably had beef online honestly and met by "chance" irl. Contemplating this. Hmmmm

[justfortrolls]

Things I want in my drabble of their first meeting if I ever make it:

- Beefing online over something stupid

- Hiyett hating Anrifi's personality first before knowing he's hot

- Something involving dancing. Probably where they meet, some type of just little street event. Let Hiyett show off is what I'm saying

- some type of 'hey shorty what time your ass get off work?' 'i'm off right now what's up?' 'you're not off, I'd beat your ass' 'Well pull up then' 'Okay keep that same energy' argument that Started as a legit argument but Anrifi had to flirt and Hiyett caught it too late. But also Hiyett is getting Validated so hm.

- Hiyett kicking Anrifi in the ribs in their first IRL meeting because Anrifi startled him

- Anrifi calling Hiyett 'small fry'

- Hiyett asking if that's a fish pun and immediately dealing Psychic Damage to Anrifi

- Hiyett talking big over the Internet and actually feeling confident and that confidence Immediately getting crushed when he recognizes who Anrifi is.

- Anrifi was expecting hardcore pitch makeouts but ends up just sitting on a curb with this meek ass little guy and damn his time feels wasted

- slurpees.

- Anrifi ending the night with 'Hey, can I ask for a favor? >OwO<' to set up their 'mean boss and errand boy relationship'

[justfortrolls]

Now that I'm thinking about it how the hell did Anrifi and Hiyett even meet? We're introduced to them as having an established relationship that is semi flirtatious and mainly exploitative. But are close enough to talk deep into the night and for Hiyett to know about Anrifi's nightmares (from a scrapped chat log I never posted) and for Hiyett to be genuinely concerned when Anrifi stopped talking to him. Hmmmmmmmmm

They probably had beef online honestly and met by "chance" irl. Contemplating this. Hmmmm

[gremlininho]

looking. at you

[pipshinwhatever]

logging onto tumblr like heyyy i'm thinking about the same character i've spent the past few weeks thinking about. no change here. just wanted to let yall know

[justfortrolls]

Human/Troll soulmate au shenanigans where it's like 'oh the first thing they say to you is written on your body' and the human just has a language they've never seen written on them. Like okay cool maybe they are from a different country or something. But then like no one recognizes the language at all.

Long story short Alien invasion and it can get peaceful or horrific from there but Human comes to realize they basically have the Alternain version of 'damn you're ugly' written on them.

[justfortrolls]

Yeah of course Bast would like the 'old men with no money' post