#a pinch

[captainsquiddd]

some more doodles cuz i made a lot !!! metadow for a friend + espilver expressions for my auuuu 😇😇

[pen-of-roses]

WHG 20-Prompt 5-Silver

WHG tag list: @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes, @concealeddarkness13 @drabbleitout, @grailfish, @forthesanityofsome, and @pied-piper-of-hamlet (let me know if you want to be added)

(Prompt 4 was combined between Din and Silver so read that before this if you missed it)

Under threat of being dragged out by the Peacekeepers, they’d emerged from their hiding spot after most of the search party had disappeared to another car.

And regretted immediately as the cacophony threatened to drag them under the instant they set foot off the train. 

It’d be easy to slip away again. The Peacekeepers were trained, but for brutality and instilling fear, not for the survival that had been pressed into them. Their armor had a weakness at the neck. While the helmets protected their faces, they also created blindspots. One of their current guards was favoring a shoulder, easy to exploit. These were just more monsters, and human ones at that, so they could be beaten and pushed past just like—like—

The weight in their hand, taste of copper in their mouth, and battlecries of the long fallen slipped away with the memory and whatever nightmares they’d fought before. Probably for the better.

Besides, they’d gotten this far. Being alone in the heart of this abyssal damned place would probably be worse than the rigid rules prior to the Games. Not to mention they didn’t quite know what would happen to the District if its tribute fled prior to the Games.

So instead they bit their cheek and sat when prompted.

From there, the taste of copper became real as the true challenge of self control began as a group of people began to argue over them, about them, touch them, manipulate them however they wanted. 

Their clothes were stripped, and discarded. clothes that had been borrowed from their family and mended by hand over the months. They managed to not break each finger of the hand that had done it.

Forced into a sweet smelling bath and scrubbed raw, the hot water was so similar to the heat from the vision from the train. That did result in a dislocated shoulder and a blackeye. Technically two, but theirs healed before they were dry. 

A comb was taken to their hair, for it’s apparently Capitol-esque appearance, but also condemned for the tangled state of it, and the bone white horns underneath it. They forced down more gold-tinted memories of other hands doing the same and a voice in their ear.

The only benefit was no one was talking to them, and they weren’t expected to speak.

Wrapped in a towel and left to wait, they were hyper aware of every footstep outside the door, of every chant of magic in the air, of the sickly sweet perfume clinging to their skin, of the way all the metal shined in just the right light to look golden rather than silver, of where the camera was and how best to avoid it.

“Well, you certainly look more human than the animal the other’s described.” Someone said as he walked into the room and hung a bag off the door.

They bared their teeth, aware they were stained with blood from their cheek and signed “You’re the animals to me.”

“Oh so you can speak,” he signed back, and they blinked, rather taken aback as the strange man sat. “Perfect, that’ll make this so much easier on me. I’m your stylist for these wonderful things the Capitol calls Games. In short, my job is to make you look good so the lovely and ever gracious people out there will help keep you alive, if you wish them to. Or don’t, if that’s more to your liking. I’ll enjoy the show either way.” Crossing his arms, he sat back, raising one blonde eyebrow in challenge.

They squinted at him. He looked Capitol-esque alright, with a suit that looked almost like it was made of flowers, though the shape of them was unlike any they had seen. Calla had said the Capitol liked to genetically modify stuff, so maybe they were based off that. Or complete and inaccurate fabrications. His hair was covered with glitter, and purple makeup adorned his face in the same garish way they’d seen on the escorts and Capitolites. Yet he also seemed off. With his cocky smile, raised eyebrow, and head cocked, it seemed like he was sizing them up and judging.

Magic thrummed all around them, but whether he was the source of any was difficult to tell with all the different sounds.

Maybe not all of the Capitolites were as empty-headed and blind as the escort had made it seem. They would have to be more careful and observant.

“You didn’t give a name,” they signed.

“Nor did you, if you recall. Now, I have very little interest in wasting any more of our precious time, so if you’re willing, let’s get on with getting this over with.”

Reluctantly, they nodded. 

Time passed too slowly after that, but the stylist kept the others from handling them too roughly this time around, even giving them privacy while they changed.

In the end, they were left in front of a mirror, focusing on the intricacy of the bark-like texture of the suit, and the leaves and flowers that had been woven into their hair. Pointedly, they did not look at the makeup that had been done, couldn’t risk seeing that face. But the rest, they felt comfortable saying was almost…nice. Wildly inaccurate and overdone. But nice.

Some of the “wood” even covered their ears so when they walked out, the noise wasn’t completely overwhelming. And looking at the other outfits, they’d probably have to thank the stylist if they saw him again. 

Of course, whatever odd reprieve that had been couldn’t last terribly long as the chariots began. Two tributes raced off on the horses, which drew most of the crowd’s attention. But not all of it. 

There were eyes watching them again, too many, and no place to hide or shrink away from it. Even with the padding, the noise from their cheering was too loud. Several of the other tributes were screaming of powerful magic, and that pull from earlier was back, threatening to drown them in the gold.

Overhead, someone spoke of peace and tradition

Behind their eyes, a voice whispered of safety and love and power over destiny.

A cruel smile watched above.

A kind smile flickered in and out of existence and the air smelled of blood.

[peculiary]

X-Force #10 July 8, 2020

[mirohtron]

anonymous asked: aaaaaa I can't let u get away when U said that to mere/pos

Anyways, I'm thankful for u saying that/gen

And in return I've got a request to ask :)

Could u maybe write a thing where it's like the villain is exhausted for whatever reasons so it's just a self care day where hero might join in? Up to you ofc!!

-Snow ❄️

@snowshowerwriting i accidentally deleted ur ask im so sorry bro 😭 here's The Thing™ tho. i think i made it angsty and like . honestly atp i don't think there has ever been a point in time where i could make in any work of mine angst-free. except one but we don't talk abt that one.

—

The villain was... crying. And glaring at the hero through their tears.

The hero felt more worried than they should be.

"Tonight?" they choked out, curled up into a ball on their couch. "Fuck you. Fuck. You."

Ouch. The hero noticed the point of their blade had dipped, but they weren't sure if the villain would take that opportunity to lunge at them or not.

Would she? They looked tired and even... underfed.

The hero eyed the villain more carefully, black ball of frazzled hair and all. At least the hoodie looked comfortable. Was that a bonus when you were crying on a Sunday morning? Did 4 AM count as morning? Why was the villain awake at 4 AM?

"Bad day?"

They recieved a glare. "You think?"

Well. The hero slightly scrunched her face at their words, suddenly feeling much less adrenaline and thinking thoughts a lot less related to arresting the villain.

After a moment, they decided better on it and pocketed their knife. They weren't in their hero costume, would the villain be less hostile because of that?

"Wanna... talk about it?" they asked gently, folding their arms across their chest and bringing their shoulders in so they didn't look too intimidating.

The crying quietened as the villain considered it, chin resting on their knees. They looked somewhere not quite the ground, tears still streaking down their cheeks.

"It's okay if you don't—"

The villain started sobbing again, shaking their head and tilting their face down. Their fingers clutched the elbow part of their sleeve, knuckles quivering from the strength used. Like they were deeply distressed.

Oh.

Slowly, the hero padded over to them, sitting down beside the villain.

They lifted a hand, holding it tentatively above the villain's head. Don't think about how vulnerable she's being to you. Do not. Not right now. "Can I touch you?" they asked. Did the villain like their hair touched? It didn't seem like they did.

The villain sniffled. "Not my head," they said.

The hero lowered their hand, slowly uncurling the villain's fingers instead.

The villain's hand wrapped tight around their fingers, and the hero's pulse rushed at the show. They gave a firm squeeze back.

The villain's head rose, just then, glaring at the hero wetly like they wanted to reject their kindness.

The hero simply patted their tears away, and the villain averted their gaze, exhausted.

"Can I stick around?" the hero asked after a moment. Gently.

The villain sniffled, and for a moment the hero thought they'd just be kicked out, but then they received a nod.

"Yeah."

The hero decided not to leave their side the whole night.

[dracvlavra]

why is there so little ukai kEISHIN CONTENT

[la-carcassa-famiglia]

I got like, incredibly attached to Ghost and Innocenti just from making headcanons about them. Like what are the chances. Ghost’s two canon personality traits are being naked and dying while Innocenti is literally just a name we heard a handful of times

[jklpopcorn]

It was supposed to be a one simple horror game about robots that try to kill the nightguard. Now here we are.