#cybersvoodoo

[godsequal]

➜ ㅤ ㅤ ﹟ㅤ 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍 ㅤ ㅤ ( @cybersvoodoo ) ㅤ Ꜥ    · ❛ do not coddle me. grant me at least that dignity. ❜ ˚ 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 ˎˊ˗

❛ a luxury i shall grant when i see you have dignity to preserve ❜ the second born son was somewhat of a fascination , their heads weighed down not by a crown , but the emptiness of where one should be — they fight harder , attempt to cast their own light to rid of the shadow that fell over them in the womb . there were a handful of times she can recall where they nearly stand at the height of the first son , but none so remarkable to knock him off the pillar they stood upon ; a prison for both , but that was the way of the world .

his eyes , dark &. hollow , stare at her with such malcontent it makes a poisonous smile pull at one side of lip — ❛ though if you so wish for me to treat you as a knight , perhaps we could work together to wipe that pout off your face ? it's quite a sight , my lord . ❜ faux politeness , dripping with mockery ; it's no secret that house belaerys do not look fondly upon the current reign , a baratheon of all things — sitting upon the iron throne , STAKING CLAIM OVER DRAGONSTONE . a sacrilegious act that left the blood running cold , despite the rocky relationship both families had with one another , house belaerys loyalty remained sturdy ; IF VALYRIAN BLOOD WASN'T THICK , THEY DO NOT DESERVE SUCH POWER . a simple , age old belief that only seemed to grow roots the longer the years went on ; though self preservation was needed now more than ever , the game at hand was now aiming to be left alone by whichever jester made its way upon the seat .

[ofvoidx]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄, 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐕𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐒. specifically in a questionable motel at the beginning of the strip during night time. [*] meme. 💪 (for kristen, fallout verse) ━ ft. kristen durus &. @cybersvoodoo's shaquille.

SCARS COME WITH SURVIVAL , LIKE THE DESERT SURROUNDING THE STRIPS . there is nothing special about the thin scar about her eye or the raised scar on her lip. they've just become a part of the menagerie of details that give kristen a partially alluring look and a partially grizzly one all the same. THE ONE SHE HAS A HARD TIME ADJUSTING TO IS THE ONE THAT CALLOUSED FINGERS JUST TOUCHED .

it just always also brings up the idea of purity. [ . . . ] if these scars are just by-products of a fight , WHY DOES THE ENCLAVE SO HARSHLY PUNISH THOSE WITH SCARS FROM THE WASTELAND ? after all , isn't that what most mutations are? UP UNTIL THEY'RE FERAL AND CRUEL . it's a scar.

THE SCARRED SKIN JUST UNDER KRISTEN'S RIBCAGE TWITCHES , but other than that, she doesn't move. she was actually kind of falling asleep and her eyes popping open certainly wasn't shaquille's fault. BUT WHO THE EVER LOVING FUCK CAN IGNORE THAT SUDDEN SCREAMING OUTSIDE .

 “  i love a good scream of terror after a night in. it's just truly romantic.   ” oh the absolute sarcasm.

[cajunspoons]

@cybersvoodoo

It was such a cartoonish moment for something so terrifyingly sudden as this. It was a normal day, yadda yadda yadda, with evening setting in to bruise the sky with pinks and purples. Nothing seemed amiss until a black, void-like hole appeared on the ground, right under Shaquille 's stepping foot. With no warning, he plummeted right through, disappearing into darkness. What followed was an instance that felt oddly like an eternity, stars whizzing past and what might have been carousel music filtering through his mind. And then he was out! Emerging into a blinding light and a dry, grimy heat, but still falling.

"Whup!" a familiar voice called out when he was suddenly grabbed by his ankle and hung in the air upside down, saving him from completing the long, crag-filled tumble below.

"Jeez Lah-wheeze, sugah! That was close!"

At the top of a small mountain, Spoons was clinging to the rock with one hand while the other held Shaquille from his fate in an iron grip

"You ain't supposed t' be here!"

The rattle of distant gunfire was interrupted by an explosion and muffled screams that instantly died away. If Shaquille looked in the direction, he'd see a mini but unmistakable mushroom-shaped cloud expanding over a host of dilapidated buildings.

"Though you could prolly make do..."

[redbritishsniper]

@cybersvoodoo || Continued from here [X]

Dullahan shined her flashlight over the large dark trees looming over her like giants staring down ants like her. The moonlight hung above her head was her second source of light in the abyss she got herself in. She was not lost. She was looking for something.

A path to answer the questions that led her here. An end to her mission once she reaches to it.

The screeching tires tore the silence, indirectly forcing her to rotate her upper half, her lower half remained in place, around and shine her light towards the source of the noise where she heard a loud crash afterward. Red and blue lights flickered not to far from where she stood.

Her legs rotated and Dullahan did a sprint towards the crash vehicle which turned out to be an ambulance. What was it doing here at this time? Back at R.A.S she would have left it be and focused on her mission. Cruel heartless monster she was. But this monster has now developed some sort of conscious and she chose to help whoever was still alive.

The driver didn't survive the crash. Died on impact and she shook her head idly. Poor bastard. Dullahan ripped opened the back door with her super strength and was greeted with more bodies and blood splattered all over the small box. She would have left and muttered apologies to the dead but she heard one groaning. A survivor.

Dullahan grabbed him out with one hand and dragged him out of the ambulance with ease, away from the totaled vehicle and leaned him against the tree. She shined her light over him and noted the amount of blood that covered himself but couldn't find any signs of fatal wounds.

Fingers snapped at him to get him conscious and moved her light to his face to inspect him better. Dullahan was still wearing her disguise as a reporter but she removed the red wig since it was starting to get itchy but she never removed the prosthetic makeup that hides her wide side grin.

"They're all dead." She told him solemnly, putting on an American accent. "You're the only one I found alive." When Shaquille rose, she rose up too. "Felicia." The disguise name was used too. Felicia O'Dell, American, freelance reporter who was willing to travel miles for agencies needing a good scoop from another state or country, and wears heeled boots no matter what. "I'm investigating the mysterious deaths happening around here and was on my way to meet someone. But my car broke down somewhere back where and I'm trying to get connection.

A lie. Her bike was parked somewhere by the trees from where she previously was.

"Wait, you hit someone? How is that possible for someone to wander out here?"

[ofvoidx]

There’s a bunch of characters I think you could write well (for the meme)

Lady Liadrin (World of Warcraft)

Red Sonja (Hyborian Age/Conan the Barbarian. Very Xena coded)

Sheva Alomar (Resident Evil)

Aela the Huntress (Elder Scrolls)

Farkas (Elder Scrolls)

Vilkas (Elder Scrolls)

Kaniehtí:io (Assassin’s Creed)

With Lady Liadrin specifically I think you’d write her exceptionally because her entire story up to the recent expansion is about her reconnecting with the Light (Paladin’s source of peace and power) and me and you have had conversations about how we love hopeful characters & just very emotional empathetic characters. I think you’d knock her out of the park

this prompt━ what other characters do you think i could write well?

i always have wanted to play world of warcraft, i just never wanted to overload my basic laptop lmao ( but thank you so much! that type of character is my cup of tea) . now you have me looking into a new movie! sheva i have always kinda wanted to play, she needs more depth after being one of the forgotten resi characters. i also could probably just get into any elder scrolls character if for the love of the lore. and i suppose i need to finish ac III just for her now.

[solidsolidus]

[CABIN] - sender and receiver take shelter in a cabin during a blizzard (from Shaquille, his Dark Tower verse. Please feel free to have him in the Warcraft world!)

1, 2 , 3 Mar counted her steps in her mind, because every step was her having to lift her knee until up to her chest for the snow was reaching alnmost up to her hips. 1,2,3 Mar counted her steps in her mind, because when she focused on counting she would not feel the snow soaking through her sandals and socks and how the coldness had numbed her legs until up to her stomach or how her hands were nothing but icy dead clumbs hanging from her arms. 1,2,3 Mar counted her steps in her mind, because if she would not fill her head with those numbers over and over and over again she would start to think about that she had neither seen nor heard anyone else of the marshing campaign infront or behind her since hours.

1,2,3 Before her was a wall of falling snow so thick that she could stretch out her arm and see her gloved hand disappear as if eaten by white teeth. 1,2,3 Behind her was the same a wall of falling snow so thick it swallowed eagerly every sound beside her own labored breathing and inched closer, hungry to eat even the noises of her breaths until she was only silent and cold.

1,2,3 The halforc stomped forward with feet that were too cold to feel. 1,2,3 Step by step, step by step, step by step. The wind bit past layers of cloth down into her skin until everything burned. 1,2,3 Step, by, step. Step, by, step.

And than her foot sunk into the snow until up to her knee and instead of hitting even more snow, there was stone beneath. From one moment to another the counting in her head was replaced by the confusion of hitting a stoneplate and promptly before the questions could enter her head- where was she? where were the other soldiers? were they dead? was she lost? was she going to die in the snow? was she lost and alone? Would the snow ever end? would she find the other soldiers again?- she stepped to the side and her feet did not sunk as deep into the snow as before. Stairs. Stonestairs. Stonestairs leading up to an entrance. Stonestairs leading up to shelter.

The snow had piled so far up around the wooden door at the end of the stairs that there was only a small hole left visible, but the fireshine sneaking between the woodenplanks outside was orange and warm. SHoving the questions- where were her comerades? were they dead? was she walking on their corpses?- away the young woman stomped up the snowcovered stairs and without a second of hestiation- because hestiating meant asking herself the questions, because hestating meant wondering if the other soldiers had left her behind, because hestiating meant wondering of they even noticed that she was lost, because hestiating meant wondering of they were even still alive to wonder if she was missing- she knocked her fist against the wooden door.

"-greetings! I am looking for shelter! No intent for robbery or murder on my part, you have my word. Its too cold for that. Open the door!", the wall of falling snow was so thick that even her words sounded like a whisper. Or maybe she was whispering for her lips felt numb and heavy and words were hard to form: "No, really, open that door now. I am freezing off my non-existent mentula and frozen -Halforc- on -a- stick is definitve not a future I want for myself. I would be very happy to avoid freezing to death!"

The door stayed closed, closed, closed. The wind continued to bite, bite, bite past her cloak and layers of clothes until it could dig into green, freckled skin sharp like frozen teeth. And Mar shivered, shivered, shivered. Eventually the word fell out from coldness frozen clenched jaws; barely hearable in the howling wind and the velvet whisper of the falling snow: "...please?"

A second later Mar huffed the ´please´away with a low, frustrated grunt like it was a annoying fly. Under her Gugels hood her freckled ears moved up and down as if she was an irritated deer. Than, instead of continuing to beg, she just started to hammer her fist harder against the door until the metalhinches started to groan in agony under the impact. [ @cybersvoodoo ]

[ofvoidx]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐎, 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐎, 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 . just on the cusp of the industrial arroyo. [ * ] their fixer ordered the pair to go to this location & hand over the package to the client . but ... shaquille was having second thoughts . there's a hand on his gun that's tucked in the back holster connected to his belt . dark palm & fingers wrap around the textured grip of his lexington x-mod2 pistol . maybe it's a protective instinct because kristen is next to him , or maybe shaquille is just too fucking full of hate to take the 𝟔𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆 seriously . bunch of murdering fucking sadists with the old red white & blue waving around like it's their god or something . it makes the rockerboy uncomfortable . he's second guessing giving whatever was in the case to them . knowing kristen , he figures she's gonna give him a quippy one liner but he's noticing the green eyed blonde is more focused than usual . shit is about to pop off isn't it? ❛ 𝐊𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 ― we gotta delta , what's the play? are we really gonna give this shit to these leadheads? ❜ ━ ft. @cybersvoodoo's shaquille buonaparte jacques &. kristen durus.

EVERYONE HERE IS A LITTLE CORRUPT FOR SOME REASON . some are just allowed to be a little violent and selfish, oh but the 6th street gang has this special place in kristen's heart for being her least favorite gang. HOW ARE YOU GOING TO PRETEND TO BE A DEFENSE FORCE FOR THE CIVILIANS WHILE STILL EXTORTING THEM? at least tyger claws don't lie about abusing sex workers and wielding guns just to climb ladders and get eddies. SHE, PERHAPS, HATES PRIDE AND GREED THE MOST OUT OF ALL THE SINS . lie to yourself all you want for your falsely heroic image, YOU'LL NEVER BE THAT . and kristen will always be the bad guy that reveals the lying tongue for you.

"i don't think i want them to have anything." kristen's intonation was so soft even for the harsh words but the emphasis on anything was also immediately highlighted by the glare in shining green eyes ━ WILL THE ANGER WILL ALWAYS DIG IN .

oh, she's a bad guy to some, isn't she? BUT IT'S POSSIBLE BEING THE BAD GUY TO THE BAD GUYS MAKES YOU GOOD . you'll just never get her to understand that. kristen's full lips stay pursed and besides the fact that a hand is slipping into the pocket of her combat pants ━ SHE ISN'T MOVING . the fact that wearing a white, polished tanktop with those pants just looks like a style choice, yet still hides all her powerful cyberware upgrades. SHE ACTUALLY ENJOYS HOW EASILY SHE GETS UNDERESTIMATED . all their attention will remain on her tall and strong looking companion. LEAVING HER SO TERRIBLY FREE .

[torntrutha]

karlach starter call , 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 , @cybersvoodoo .

the shadowlands wasn't a beautiful place ... but it could be captivating , especially by force. the shadows will find some way to control you. SOME WAY. and all you have is a special , little light that you can't step away from. at least in most places of the shadowlands. isobel has protected the last light inn. STILL SOME SAFER THAN AVERNUS HAS EVER FELT. and karlach has sat here thinking about that. and she has decided. something about avernus is far more suffocating.

she got some soup from the tavern , a brave soul is calming their nerves by making food. some soup. some bread. she pulls up a chair besides wyll and snaps the bread in half , before legitimately just setting half a piece on his lap. it doesn't matter what he's doing. THEY'RE EATING NOW.