decided to draw a little something from a plot point in CBSMP:BTS! This is the part when Cdot helps Bam discover his powers :D (yes I made an entire plot point that’s centered around lackey duo SUE ME, YALL KNOW WHO I AM 🤑 /j)
Context: The following day after Bam gets blessed by CB Man, he wakes up to frantic knocks at his door. The person at the door is Cdot and he quickly grabs Bam and drags him towards his cafe, Bam being utterly confused. Once the two arrive and sit down at one of the booths, Cdot reveals that he had been awake all night hypothesizing what exactly Bam could do now that he had ascended (evident with the VERY pronounced eyebags), and he figured out that since the prefix demi (since yk Bam is a DEMIgod) means half then that meant that Bam received half of CB Man’s powers. To test Cdot’s theory, the two then travel to a place in the server where absolutely no one is or has been in order to conceal Bam. The two arrive at the spot, Bam transforms, and then they figure out that in order to get a rough estimate of what abilities Bam could have, he needed to describe what CB Man was doing inside of Bam’s head while the blessing was happening. Bam recounted his experience with CB Man when getting blessed, Cdot writing it down. After that, Bam realized that to unlock his powers, he has to close his eyes (sort of like he does to transform) and concentrate on said power. Cdot adds that him telling Bam sensory details in his ear would be the best solution and so they test out the plan. It works and they do this same trick for flight, telekinesis, teleportation, and finally height manipulation. Yadda yadda yadda, once Cdot gives Bam the sensory details, Bam grows massive and that’s where this drawing comes in. (Those are the cliff notes but I have the whole scene written down in the Miro board I’m using to plan the AU :3)
bro I can’t stop laughing at Cdot’s pronounced eyebags in the first drawing like that detail is just too funny to me 😂 but anyway, look forward to more drawings like this where it’s one specific part but I give the context for what happened beforehand 😁
The monarch doesn’t even see the alphas before him anymore. That pain is back, that soreness burning up in his gut, as his anger grows…
Pistachio had done nothing, and given everything. He’d fucking loved that lobster, he’d loved one thing, and tried so hard to love Sulfur. But not hard enough… No, no he had to suffer the consequences of not wanting what he did, chained and mutilated, drowning in a freezing river to finish him off because the survivors couldn’t do it themselves… Halo’d pulled him out. He was… Halo was fine, Gordon just had issues with sentinels for reasons no one in the hive could fathom. And he didn’t like his role of monitoring him.
After the events no one could understand why he didn’t want to go out and celebrate with his people, why he didn’t want a hug, why he wasn’t smiling for getting rid of Sulfur after recovery, why he didn’t trust Halo in his home, obviously he’s just a heartless bitch…
With every spiraling thought, the inferno inside, the rage and the pain, grows…
He’d given everything to this hive, and they had taken everything, and even spat on him for it… Halo is silent beside him, still as a statue… He hasn’t collectively spent too much time with Gordon despite his born purpose, but he knew enough to know that something was wrong…
The king’s snout wrinkles, tail flicks. As he tunes back in to listen to the woes of the rivalry… Ohh how trivial. How careless and entitled, how shallow and fickle. Every. Single. Problem. Related to his autonomy. To his life outside of them and things no one had fucking bothered to ask, to work with him on, to understand… And here they were. To kill him. They were asking him to just lie down to be slaughtered… He’d been so compliant for so much of his rule, surely he understood…
The monarch’s blood pounds in his ears, veins straining against skin, vision splinters… He sees the vitals so clearly, major arteries and vulnerabilities flickering in sharp focus amidst red lined, rage blurred vision, as a dark, volcanic sensation bubbles through his veins. It’s painful. It burns. He can’t remember being so furious in his life… Everything denied, reprimanded, repressed, and ignored throughout his life throughout his time as monarch and before seizes him with an agonizing sensation of power. If he weren’t swept up beyond reason, he would be deathly afraid. It almost feels like possession, something stronger, something bigger, something unnatural is filling his skin and trying to claw it’s way out as the silver king rises slowly from his throne…
He would not lie down. If they wanted his blood. They would take it from him…Halo, for his part, is very afraid. Something feels wrong. Very wrong. In a way that makes his hackles stand on end, and paws creep backwards… The alphas have started to notice as well, and they have a similar reaction. His scent has something wrong but they can’t place it.
They can only place that something wrong is happening, something very bad.
Gordon’s eyes are blue…
I've been working on a story, and there's one plot point I have been banging my head against the wall about for months, so I'm going to ask the internet for help:
So, my main character is a woman who has just recently married into a rich family after a botched con job. However, she discovers some dark secrets about the family. The family finds out she knows, and they threaten to expose her criminal past and get her arrested if she spills the beans about their secrets.
So, the family has hired a bodyguard to watch her. Both because she's a famous man's wife now, but also so they can keep an eye on her when they're not around. She's a liability now, after all.
Now, my main character has a plan to escape this family. However, in order to do it, she needs the bodyguard out of the way for a while. I am stuck on how to get rid of the bodyguard.
A few important notes:
1. She can't kill the bodyguard. She just needs to incapacitate him for several hours to a day.
2. The bodyguard has to be "taken out" in a way that casts little suspicion on the main character.
3. Ideally, his "taking out" would either look like an accident that neither of them could have anticipated, or possibly something that could later be blamed on another character (this could depend on timing stuff I haven't worked out yet).
4. She has one friend/ally on the outside that the family doesn't know about who could do something, but I'm not sure what. He's a fellow criminal, but not strong enough to fight/injure the bodyguard.
~
Any suggestions or ideas at all would be greatly appreciated. Thank you so much!
EDIT: I should also mention the bodyguard lives with her (it's a 24-hour watch kind of thing).
"No. They've only just arrived. Be patient!" The Trickster of Tzeentch hissed to the servants he was assigned, watching from the lip of the Black Pit. His master's grand plan, of which he was afforded a key place as Unleasher of the project constructed on the Changer's orders, was commencing.
The Changeling could see it from here-- the great red river of ruin Skarbrand and his pet god were carving through the land. Rare were the times Tzeentch directly commanded his Trickster, but this would be one such occasion and all could see the merits of it.
" That's going to take eons to rebuild. So many hopes, dreams, lies-- captured and made solid." The Horror groused, twirling his Trickster's staff in his hands. Behind him, pink and blue horrors capered.
" Now?" One ask, impatient, literally vibrating with it.
"No, not now!" The taller Daemon hissed at it, for what must've been the hundredth time. A loud clatter caught their attention-- the Impossible Fortress had fallen. The Maze Thralls were out in full frenzied force. Tzeentch slithered from the wounds wrought in the walls of his home to face his attackers.
"....Now?" The Horror asked again, hopeful.
"Wait. Wait..." The Changeling watched the Fused God and his own size one another up. Then they pounced, and he turned to his fellow Horrors. "Now!"
The incantation began. And something rose from the center of the Black Pit...
---
Tzeentch rarely left the Hidden Library, secreted at the heart of the Impossible Fortress, itself situated in the nigh-impassable Maze of Crystals. All the gods had dozens and dozens of battle legends to their names; times when they were forced to intervene personally and duel a force greater than any of their daemons. But as he watched the two gods size each other up, Skarbrand could recall no such tales about Tzeentch.
He was not a god of warriors. The Changer was patron to revolutionaries, politicians, magic users, and mutants. Battle was not in his portfolio.
And yet none could deny how he held his own against Malal-Khade, a combination of magic, strength, duplicity, and agility making for a formidable enemy. Just watching the clash had become dangerous, as Tzeentch rained down magic in wanton quantities: storms of shredding wind and hails of blazing wyrdflame. Malal-Khade shook these attacks off well enough, but Skarbrand and his daemons were just that: daemons. Daemons and the regretful mortals who had followed them into the mouth of hell itself to bear witness to two of it's Fell rulers dueling to the death.
" We should leave." Kha'xanzyr hissed to Skarbrand among the carnage. The Reaper snarled and shot him a look. " You would pass up watching the Changer die, Architect?"
" When he dies, this realm will unravel. And we shall perish alongside him. Tzeentch is no match for my Patron."
As Kha'xanzyr said this, Malal-Khade struck with his pilfered blade. He pushed the weapon into the serpentine guts of the great avian-marine god, wrenching a horrid sound from the faces on his chest. Tzeentch responded by lurching forward with his tentacles, squeezing and choking Malal-Khade about the throne, but the War God roared and lit up his skin with black lightning. It singed across the Change-Lords body, the God's flesh running like tallow as he shrieked and pulled away. With each hit he took, the Realm of Tzeentch trembled, the pain of the Changer trembling through it.
Skarbrand saw reason then and there, though he allowed himself a final look at the Supreme Lord of Change, crossed and pierced with wounds, dripping his arcane ichor. "We leave." He agreed, looking at Kha'xanzyr and Khazaan, who nodded and shouted the order. Skarbrand's army pulled back, abandoning the Maze Crazed to their own insane devices, reticent of the world itself cracking beneath their hooves.
If Malal-Khade noticed Skarbrand's retreat, he said nothing. His own forces fought on, until they were ground to blood and bones beneath the relentless onslaught of Tzeentch's ravening hordes. Tzeentch himself was no easy score, but Malal-Khade was the Firstling and the Misbegotten-- the Firstborn and the Feared. He had stumbled and Tzeentch had disappeared into flame at the moment, reappearing behind the challenger. But Malal-Khade had predicted this, spinning on his hooves and wrenching his warped blade upwards with quicksilver perfection and brutal strength. The blade sliced through Tzeentch's chest-face, then bisected his beak-mouth, severing no few tentacles in it's wake.
The Great Lord of Change, each eye blown wide, lurched and choked, spewing arcane rich blood from both mouths. Malal-Khade watched him die with cool, cruel satisfaction.
"𝐀𝐄. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄. 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒, 𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑, 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘. 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄." The younger god growled, watching Tzeentch collapse and quite literally shatter to pieces among the remains of his labyrinth and fortress. Malal-Khade basked in his victory, in the destruction he had wrought. His army was gone, killed to a daemon and a man, but it had been a worth trade to destroy one of the four. He looked at the blade in his hands-- warped and twisted beyond use. Extending an arm, Malal-Khade went to discard to weapon, but found his fists tight and unwilling to drop it.
"𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆?" Malal bullied his way to the fore of the joining, hissing at his other-self.
"𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍? 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄! 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘, 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐔𝐒. 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒! 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄, 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆!" Another ripple. The Gods bickered and bickered. They argued and fought about who was next on their list to be slain. They argued so fervently that they did not see that Changer was not so dead.
That killing him was never going to be so simple.
---
Millenniums had passed since Tzeentch had been reduced to Fractals. He remembered it still-- Khorne, Nurgle, and Slaanesh heaving him off of the Endless Mountains after an expertly laid trap. It wasn't one of his finest moments...but unlike then, this shattering was quite purposeful. Another step, as always, in the Great Scheme.
For the Changer was not as dead as the two bickering gods might've hoped. Oh, Khorne's blade with it's vehemence against his very being would take time to repair from, but he would. He would come back, more or less the same, but the same could not be said of these fools. All around him, the Changer could feel the minute consequences of his Labyrinth being shattered. The Realms were drifting, the winds were rising to a tempest in the mortal world, and countless realities had risen with each swing of Malal-Khade sword against the Crystal Maze. Possibility, potentialities, alternative worlds-- all unleashed and so haphazardly.
But he would investigate those later, when he had proper eyes and body to do such with. Right now, he could only see from his realm; a million eyes ensconced in the very earth and sky, spying and prying. And what he saw pleased him greatly.
His project, completed, striding over the realms to deal with this interloper. Tzeentch hadn't had an allusions about how he would fair against the kin of Khorne, let alone two. But his sentinel, his weapon.
His Collar of Khade was a different story entirely. It had been fitted with the Rage Pox, the roiling red liquid sloshing around in vials on it's frame like obscene growths. It had been stolen from Nurgle's lands at great pains, the machine further scored with runes of domination. But there was something Tzeentch hadn't known-- that those runes had been tampered with, sabotaged by a servant of Khade and one of his own feathered brood...
---
Malal-Khade hadn't seen the giant skeletal beast of metal that had approached the aftermath of the battle. Due their own lack of oversight or perhaps the lingering will of the slain Tzeentch, they hadn't heard it or sensed it, not until it was upon them. With metal fists forged by daemon-smiths, it pummeled the injured god with one hand and wrenched the wrap blade from his grip with the other. Off it went flying, too far to reach. Malal-Khade made to defend, but the Collar of Khade lunged and undid itself. Like a straight-jacket of divine metal, it caged the Fused God within itself and the runes of domination blazed to life.
Malal-Khade screamed, feeling the acid of control bending and corroding his will. But he was two gods, not one, and Malal was a horrid thing that should not have been. In that battle of wills, the runes had failed; burned themselves out and left an exhausted hybrid in it's wake.
But if anyone had contingencies, it was Tzeentch, and into the body of the joint god, the Rage Pox drained. It had killed Slaanesh's spawn, which Malal was, but Khade was the God of Unmaking and the pox was a thing of magic. And so when Malal-Khade fell, he was not stricken with death.
"нuͧs͛hͪ liͥᴛⷮᴛⷮleͤ вaͣвy dͩoͦn'́ᴛⷮ s͛aͣy aͣ woͦrͬdͩ,̓ ᴛⷮcͨhͪaͣrͬ'́s͛ goͦiͥng ᴛⷮoͦ mͫaͣᴋⷦeͤ yoͦuͧ aͣ mͫoͦcͨᴋⷦiͥng вiͥrͬdͩ~." Tzeentch crooned the song as Malal-Khade tried, and failed, to keep his eyes open.
It had been a risky gambit, but one that would pay off in the future...
