[tcrminates]

[tcrminates]

♡ - If your muse were rendered unable to fight, what about them would change? Would they be able to handle it?

hmmm. i'm not sure slade would be able to handle it. of course the question is what you COULD do to him to render him unable to fight, he's extremely stubborn. even when he got spontaneously blinded he got himself a seeing fight dog and went around trying to stab people. i think you could paralyze him and he'd still wheel around shooting people with rocket launchers, honestly.

[ratcarney]

y’all ever see a piece of fan content about your favorite character that is so horrifically different from what you personally believe and you just

[bodytheft-deactivated20250905]

@tcrminates asked:

❝ You should realise by now that I plan for every contingency. Now drop your weapon. ❞

-> UNCHARTED MEME / ACCEPTING ! 

The pistol wouldn’t actually do any harm to Slade. Joey knew this well, yet he still kept it trained on his father. He readjusted his grip and swallowed thickly. His index finger found the trigger and rested there for the time being. 

There’s some mild regret of what got them to this point. Slade could kill him. Hell, he was probably one of the only people who could. That used to bring comfort, but now it only brewed fear. It rested in his gut and festered as much as he tried to quell it. 

A bullet wouldn’t do much to hurt him either. Joseph turned the safety off to finalize his stance. He’d be an idiot to disarm himself. 

[tcrminates]

slade sighs. “what are you trying to prove? that you can pull a trigger?” one of his hands is on his sidearm, more out of instinct than out of true intent to use it. unlike him, a pistol could hurt joey. at most he could shoot the gun out of his son’s hand.

of course, he doesn’t have to. he unloaded the bullets in the handgun he’d given joey once he started to suspect something was off. joey seemed stable as a child but these days he’s just as unhinged as anyone else. “put the gun down.”

[tcrminates]

@dirtymercy | ❝  i’m not afraid of you - i’m not afraid of anything.  ❞

“don’t mistake lack of fear for recklessness,” slade says, looking down at her. her words are spoken like a child, a foolish idealist. he’ll have to train it out of her. “recklessness gets you killed. you should be a little more afraid.” he weighs his knife in his hand pointedly. “i could kill you right here and now, if i wanted to. it would be stupid not to be aware of that.” fear is something that can keep you alive. tara seems to think it an impediment in making easy decisions.

[bigsharkdaddy]

@tcrminates​ // in response to

*taps on the glass*

Nobody good ever comes down here. Just suits. Not even anyone to clean the place, he can see the caked-on layer of dust on the rims around the large windows, windows to let everyone who comes down here see what sort of monstrosity they keep within the deeper confines of their facility. He’s a showpiece. A fish in a fucking bowl. After three breakouts they’ve figured out how to keep him in water without him crashing right through the acrylic glass (it’s over two feet thick, sickening if you look at it. Wonder what animal welfare activists would say about it…), and yet…

He doesn’t hear the gunfire. Peacefully floating in the water, heartbeat slow, King has no idea of the invasion down by the walkway, but his attention is drawn when he feels the vibrations of a knuckle against glass. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap. His large form comes into motion languidly, expecting curious eyeballs and oooohs and aaaaahs, but instead he’s faced with a man who is definitely not a part of that crowd. A bit hard to see and King can only make out the orange parts of whatever he’s wearing – and a giant claws comes to the window, scratching the acrylic until it curls in ribbons against his fingertips. The man has a weapon, King can see the metallic glimmer in the lights over the hallway, and slowly he backs away from the window, making… oh god, he’s making fingerguns at the man. Should be obvious enough.

Let. Him. Out.

[tcrminates]

well, this shark looks pissed off. and sentient enough to make fingerguns, too. king shark, slade’s mile-a-minute mind supplies for him. wonderful. he won’t even have to do that much work for this contract. he can just get in, let the shark free, and let him wreck the place. he takes out his largest caliber, universal language for stand back, and calculates where exactly he should be shooting at the glass.

three shots, before the spiderweb cracks become too big for the glass to hold back the water behind them. slade steps out of the way, letting briny saltwater pool around his boots as it gushes into the room.

he still keeps his gun and his sword handy, in case the shark-man is too hungry to know where he should be biting: the men out in the hall, part of the syndicate slade’s been paid to reduce to nothing. “so how long have you been a showpiece?”

[crashchord]

@tcrminates​ liked for a starter!

     uh oh. dead end. never a good thing to have. bart doesn’t know how he got into this (its just what they do), doesn’t know how he got separated from everyone else (he doesn’t think before he acts and he didn’t pay attention), doesn’t know what he’s going to do now (no, really, he doesn’t know. he’s out of impulse decisions).

     he whips around, thinks he sees a little shard of glass fly from his cracked goggles, forcing a look of (fake, performative) determination on his face, but it looks so childish on him, fists shaking with adrenaline where he has them held up.

          “ i’m – not scared, “ he says, stupidly, it’s a stupid, childish thing to say, “ i’m not scared of you. “

[tcrminates]

“good job,” slade replies, dry and little sarcastic. it’s clearly a lie, a child putting on a brave face as he shakes. slade swears he can almost smell his fear. doesn’t mean there’s nowhere to run for a speedster, but at least he won’t be able to think straight. if he tries to get past slade, he’ll cut his feet on the thick tripwires he set behind him. let nobody say slade didn’t come prepared.

he levels the tranquilizer gun. it looks like a real gun, will make the kid more scared, but one hit will take him down almost as soon as it hits - a benefit of a drug that his metabolism won’t be able to take out so easily. then slade can stick him in actual restraints. maybe a net. he shoots three times, less at the boy and more at the places he thinks he’ll be. slade only needs to hit once.

[iwashandpicked]

missionary so we can continue our argument from before

[bigsharkdaddy]

It’s quiet at the resort, like it’s early morning except it isn’t – it’s the middle of the day, sun bright over the pool, the absolute perfect day to lounge and build up a tan. But instead the chlorine water runs red, and with his feet swishing back and forth in it, King Shark sits on the warm tiled edge, the sound of flesh tearing and bones snapping between his claws and teeth enough to provide a gore fan with a boner lasting a lifetime. Not everyone is dead, at least – part of the staff isn’t. The people who wisely decided not to be in his way aren’t. It’ll take some time to piece together the bodies of the people left in King’s wake, especially with how many pieces are missing. They’ll never be found.

Ah, juicy meat. He tastes the terror but whatever, he hasn’t had human victims in months, maybe a little over a year, so he’s satisfied with what he gets. The crunching would make anyone’s blood run cold. It sounds wet, warm. The content growl that follows definitely doesn’t make it less disgusting.

‘Take a picture, it’ll last longer.’ His enormous head turns, one black eye finding whoever is looking at him – they get the delight of watching a human hand dangling from his jaw, only attached by a last shred of skin. Oh no, there it goes… falling onto the tiles with the sound of a dead fish. Tasty.

[tcrminates]

slade’s first thought is that he doesn’t have anything to do with this. he knows he didn’t, this wasn’t the mission he came here to deal with, but it does make it more complicated. appointments to reschedule and all that. and right after a swim he had very much enjoyed.

“so who paid you for this?” king shark could be targeting him, but the idea is laughable. even covered in only a towel he’s the most lethal person here. he might be after the people slade was meeting here - rose is going to whine about having to move the appointment. slade thought that Markos had set up the appointment without anyone else knowing, but other people are sloppy.

slade runs fingers through his hair, squeezing the rest of the moisture from it. viscera squishes between his toes as he walks forwards, careful not to step on any of the shreds of bone. a lethal bite force. “someone must be furious about tanning beds.”

[subetei-noykin]

War and Combat Centric Asks

♦ - What does fighting mean to your muse, and how different are they during battle?

♢ - What abilities does your muse possess that makes them an effective fighter?

♠ - What is your muse’s weapon of choice? Is it magical or mundane in nature?

♤ - Given a chance to learn and use a combat ability or magic they don’t possess, what would your muse choose?

♣ - Is your muse particularly merciless or do they leave their opponents relatively whole after a fight? Why?

♧ - Does your muse have any regrets about a battle or incident they had to fight in? Has it changed them?

♥ - Is there an opponent they’ve fought they’ve grown particularly attached to, love or hate?

♡ - If your muse were rendered unable to fight, what about them would change? Would they be able to handle it?

☊ - Give a list or description of particularly notable battles in your muse’s history. Do any stand out?

☋ - Does your muse believe in the ‘brothers and sisters of battle’ concept, growing close to their fellows, or are they distant from others?

⇖ - Is your muse attached to any particular weapon or piece of equipment they own?

⇘ - Has your muse ever used a combat vehicle or siege weapon in battle? Were they enthusiastic about it?

✓ - Has your muse ever lost anyone they cared about on the battlefield? Do they feel responsible?

✗ - Has your muse ever been a victim of friendly fire or been betrayed during a fight? How did they react?

☌ - Is your muse famous or infamous in their world for a battle or fight? Do they embrace or shy away from it?

☍ - Does your muse draw any inspirations for their combat style or spells from their past or the world they live in?

⇈ - Does your muse knowingly or unknowingly draw on any kind of power when they fight? Describe it?

⇊ - Does your muse have many scars or lasting effects from a battle? If not, do they keep any trophies or reminders?

⌤ - Is your muse uncomfortable outside of combat? Do they have problems socializing or relaxing?

™ - Do any inspirations for how your muse fights come from other media? List or describe them.

☎ - Describe your muse in RPG class or archetype terms. Do you actively push for them to be like this, or is it just a comparison point?

↫ - Is there a real life martial art or fighting style that you draw heavily on for your character?

▶ - Do you have trouble writing your muse getting injured or hurting others? Describe what process you use to deal with it.

[tcrminates]

from here

[SMS] For ssomeone else..

[SMS] Not intersted.

[mxtamorphic]

    / / 🟢 @tcrminates​ asked; ❝ follow me – but don’t touch anything. understand? ❞

    | | gar followed the man, finally finding this slade wilson fellow. he claimed that he would help him with… everything. so, the kid had to give a little bit of trust in him and just stay on his toes. though, the changeling didn’t want slade to think he was ignoring him so garfield gave a quick “ sure thing, “ before averting his gaze back to the floor. the teen kept his arms in fists at his side, keeping in mind that this is for answers and answers only.

[tcrminates]

the teen heroes who run around in costume are always painfully stupid. he’s not asking enough questions, not paying attention to the world around him. he’s in distress, which makes him pay even less. at least grayson has some formal training; logan barely has his wits about him. like most of them they were trained on conflict and slade’s starting to put down their survival to mostly luck.

at least when it comes to him. it’s not as if dr light is particularly intelligent either.

slade walks quickly. logan will be useful, he’ll be able to transmit information to his teammates when he finds them. he walks through the cavern with purpose, remembering where his footsteps fell the last time he was here.

in the cave in front of them, runes glow purple in an obsidian spire. it’s recognizable, if you’ve been through an attempted apocalypse before. trigon.

[tcrminates]

goreverine​:

of course slade isn’t playing along, being a tease about all this. he’s still under the delusion that he can be a krakoan (he cannot choose not to be) and still going around doing the same shit they’ve always done, for decades. sooner or later his contractors will start to look for options with less liability, anyway. you don’t fuck with krakoa.

“sure. the very same,” he says, simply. it’s true, of course, but unimportant. “the crazies that hate you, slade.”

“i hope you understand that i’m here to help you, slade. i’m here to save you, really.” now, daken speaks over his shoulder: slow, steady. he’s serious, even if his voice is dripping, syrupy sweet. “the last thing i want is another one of us in that damnable pit, again.”

and – daken leans in, close to his scalp, putting his hands on his shoulders as he nestles in from behind slade’s chair. leans his face into between those twitching ears of his, burying his nose in his hair. trying to catch a hint, a trail, to read his scent.

“you know, they never told me how they caught you…”

hate him. as if slade doesn’t have enemies in every corner of the world. he’s killed mutants before, of course, under contract and not - some he didn’t know were mutants, some he did. if you have a dangerous enough mutation you can get contracted easy. no skill, of course. they’re always the younger ones.

“i don’t get a warm welcome many places,” slade says. countries leave him alone because he’s useful. and because they have no idea the half of what he’s done - like krakoa. tricking psychics is something he learned from twisting his brain this way and that, pushing against them enough to put up a legitimate fight and hiding the rest - but if he they pin him down and work all of his secrets out of him using their strongest, he won’t have a chance.

us. krakoans, or mutants, or ferals? slade has never needed their company. mutants band together like animals in a flock, for better protection when a predator comes along, but he’s never needed that. there are so many more these days than there used to be. “the pit isn’t forever, daken. and neither is this country. they’ll need me, because one of these days, they plan on ripping each other apart.” and he always takes the money.

he’ll have to acquiesce eventually, to something. rose is here and joseph is too, and they’ll think him tame if he spends time with them.  it wouldn’t be terrible, either. he’ll wait for a chance to slip away and wait it out somewhere by himself. watch the crack in the power structure. keep your enemies close and all that. “i guess they don’t tell you everything. makes you wonder how many secrets they’re keeping.” a lot. slade can read microexpressions.

[tcrminates]

ok im back im writing shhhhh

[tcrminates]

it is once again slade wilson simping hours

[tcrminates]

i still exist, gonna go back 2 writing soon (sorry exams)

[gliderslain]

“I’d like you to at least consider the offer,” Norman says, hands slipping behind his back for a few short moments. “As it is and will always will be on the table.”

@tcrminates​

[tcrminates]

“i’m a private contractor,” slade says. “i prefer to stay . . . untethered, as it were.” he sheathes one of his knives on his thigh, pulling his hood off and shaking out shoulder-length hair. sweat plasters strands of it to his face. a good sweat, like after hard work. the mask is specked ever so slightly with blood.

“makes it easier. less paperwork, too.” an offer means a pleased client, though. slade takes pride in his work.