#underestimate him at your own peril | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dearestones · 4 months

Text

The Perils of Being Better than Everyone Else (Idia Shroud and Yuu)

Warnings: The Prefect is described as being shorter and smaller than Idia, gamer lingo, Idia’s poor self esteem combined with his arrogance.

@fjshii Request: Hello lovely! :)

I was wondering if I could make a request? There's something that's been rotating in my head :) Of course, I just want to emphasize the fact that this is a very casual ask!!! If you're working on other projects or just honestly don't feel like it then yes!!! Perfect :) I am in 100% support 😌😌😌 I enjoy whatever's on the table <3 But yes!!! I just wanted to say that! It was important :)

As for the actual request lol, I was wondering about a twst scenario with one of the boys teaching Yuu how to tie a tie? I just think it could be very sweet :) or hilarious if depending on who we're talking about. Whoever out of the cast is fine! :) I'm just hoping one of the students instead of the faculty (and oddly enough, not Vil please LMAO he just fits the bill a bit too much? if that's okay😂), but honestly, yeah, wherever your gut takes you. I also think this could be a really fun way to test out some characters we haven't seen from you yet before their debut in Caged Birds :)

Anywho! Yes! Only if you really want :) I hope you're having an enjoyable week, and thanks for all you share! :) <3

Dying on the inside certainly wasn't the worst thing that could ever happen to Idia, but it was definitely one of the top five sensations that he wished he didn't have to live with on a day to day basis. It was a feeling that had plagued him for a long time now, but it seemed that the occurrence of such a feeling seemed to happen with higher frequency after he had first started attending Night Raven College. It didn't take long to amass data points and map it out onto a graph: the points were clear and simple.

Out of everyone else in that hallowed institution, Idia Shroud was a being 'other' than the rest of them.

Yes, there were students who sported fangs. There were those who were blessed (or perhaps even cursed) with furry ears and tails. Others still had pointed ears and a longevity that most mortals would have killed for.

However, among the treasure trove of such eccentricities, Idia was by far one of the strangest.

It was quite obvious, with the flaming hair and the inevitable display of the veritable knives that rose from his gums, that Idia would be singled out as 'strange'.

Well, that was all relative when one had to consider that there was even a student from another world! It was an interesting phenomenon and Idia was sure that there would be more of a hubbub around that student’s origins, but surprisingly, there wasn’t any. At least, Idia hadn’t observed any sort of curious reactions from any NRC students. Then again, he could relate. After all, while the magicless student definitely had main character vibes, they were not as noteworthy as other famous individuals at the school like royalty, child prodigies, and the like.

So, you would think that having a person with main character vibes would give them plot armor, but…

One should not underestimate the power of SSR Problematic Children, especially those who had orchestrated their own boss battles.

The incident happened when Idia had been busy getting a drink from one of the vending machines that was situated in one of the hallways of the school. On this particular school day, he had been tasked with the brunt of a presentation and because it had been weeks since he had set foot into an actual classroom, his professor had requested that he attend in real life. Idia tried to put up a fight (read: he had begged and pleaded via email), but his professor had cited the rubric’s requirements and that it was a mandatory project that needed his presence. Needless to say, despite the fight in Idia, he had ended up folding the instant he thought he read an irritated tone in the email correspondence.

(Idia would have definitely shown up the professor considering that the subject he was required to present was basically the fundamentals to understanding the integration of magic into technology, but decided to let the matter go.

He was merciful like that and he was above such triviality).

When the time came, Idia felt himself sweating buckeyes and burrowing into the safety of his hooded jacket. Why did the entire world have to be composed of extraverts? Thankfully, during the presentation, his partner had taken the reins, which meant that the Ignihyde Housewarden didn’t have to speak as much as he thought he would. It may or may not be because of the contingency plan he had constructed back when he was a lowly first year. (That is to say, Idia made sure to send a copy of the presentation and notes to his partner beforehand).

As always, his plan worked because, after all, he was a genius.

So, after a lengthy class session that involved Idia pretending to listen to his peers drone on and on about their presentations (most of which were either not well researched or as well presented…and sometimes, it was a combination of both) while he was surreptitiously playing games on his phone, Idia was thirsty. It wasn’t like he had talked much, but effort was still effort, even if it wasn’t at his one hundred percent.

And besides—

Precipice Moirai had teamed up with a lesser known energy drink that Idia had yet to taste. After having checked out the reviews, it was a widespread opinion that the energy drink wasn’t all too dissimilar to others of its kind. The taste wasn’t too remarkable and wasn’t well worth the hype except for the members of the famed idol group plastering their faces upon the tin.

To say that Idia was annoyed was an understatement. Even if Premo had teamed up with a drink that didn’t taste good, that didn’t mean that fans should turn their backs against their beloved idols! Honestly, what sort of fans were they to talk such pessimistic sentiments about something that they didn’t have to buy? Idia was loyal and he was going to drink at least one can.

And for those weirdos who left such disparaging comments on the forums… Let’s just say that they were going to be in for a treat when they finally logged back on.

As Idia punched in the correct combination that would release the sweet, sugary nectar into his waiting grasp, he heard a familiar voice in the hallway. Even if it was from a distance, he felt himself shrink a little in his oversized hoodie and his hands trembled in anxiety. Out of everyone else in this school, no other SSR Problematic Child could appear so cute and unassuming, only to reveal that he himself was as much of a problem as his contemporaries.

Riddle Rosehearts.

A taskmaster to the core, the infamous Teapot Tyrant of Heartslabyul was busy berating a first year while Idia could only watch in detached horror. Fascinatingly enough, the first year only looked faintly amused by Riddle’s seemingly heated tirade. Now that Idia thought about it (from the safety of the bulky vending machine), Riddle hadn’t raised his voice or shouted his Unique Magic. Yes, the Taskmaster had been gradually mellowed out because of his Overblot (sadly, the experience hadn’t given Riddle a debuff when it came to his perfunctory nature), but Idia had only observed from hearsay and the off chance he decided to note Riddle’s behavior during meetings.

The change wasn’t drastic, but it reminded Idia of the character development for one of the villains in a manga series he had read a few years’ ago. A scary thought to be sure. There was no way Idia could try to compare the intricacies of an award winning manga to the messiness of human nature, but the fact that he had thought of it! For a mere second!

Ughhhh… 2D was always better than 3D.

Before the Ignihyde Housewarden could suffer another meltdown that paled in comparison to the ire he felt at the idea of partnering with someone for a school project, he became all too aware that he was no longer alone at the vending machine. Now, Idia was no macho man (the S.T.Y.X. situation had certainly taught him that much), but he would rather go down into the depths of Tartarus or give access to his laptop without restriction to his mother before saying that he shrieked upon the realization.

Yes, he will admit that he emitted a high pitched sound and jumped a foot in the air at the scare.

But still.

It was nothing more than an excited exhalation of air.

Nothing more.

“Oh, gosh! Sorry about that, Idia! I thought you noticed me since I saw you watching Riddle and I earlier!” The Prefect’s voice was not as grating or as needlessly loud as some of the other students at this school—in fact, it was rather soft and apologetic—but Idia had to bury the urge to cover their mouth with his hands. (No way was he going to risk contaminating his gaming hands with someone who never heard of Premo before!)

Plus…

Taskmaster Riddle could be still lying in wait for the next person to scold!

“Q-quiet down!” Idia’s tablet may have generated his voice, but it clearly conveyed the urgency and the volume that Idia’s vocal cords would have produced. “The world may be okay with catering to the whims of the extraverted, but as an introvert, I will not bow to such societal pressures.”

The Prefect cocked their head to the side and gave Idia one long, hard look.

“For sure. Fight the power, Idia.”

Did he raise his friendship meter with the Prefect? Not that he wanted to, the Prefect was calming to talk to on most days, but that didn’t mean that they were exempt from the disease known as “sociability”. Idia didn’t do that.

“So… is that any good?”

Idia was about to ask what the Prefect meant by that question before realizing that he was still holding the energy drink (unopened). Ah, he had yet to fulfill today’s daily quest.

Idia shrugged, feeling a little bit foolish as he regarded his loot. A part of him wanted to run away or shrink into his hoodie, but it would be too troublesome to rule up the Prefect because once you piqued the Prefect’s interest, bad things happened.

Like Riddle mellowing out.

Or Leona actually taking initiative.

Or Azul—No, he hadn’t changed a bit. A shady businessman to his core, that one.

Whatever the case, Idia was so busy trying to come up with an exit strategy to leave ASAP (he had an afternoon campaign and he was AFK for too long!) that he nearly missed the Prefect’s little sigh.

HAD HE OFFENDED THEM BECAUSE HE HAD SPENT TOO MUCH TIME THINKING?

Utter madness, why did anyone willingly submit themselves to the horrors of etiquette and good manners? The rules of polite society never made that much sense to him…

“Gosh, I wish I could have some of that.” When did the Prefect step closer to inspect the can? “But if Riddle catches me overloading on sugar again, he’s going to make me help ADeuce with dressing up the flamingos for midmorning croquet.”

Three years and Heartslabyul was a puzzle that Idia was not hard pressed to solve. RIP, GG to the n00bs who thought that Heartslabyul was one of the nicer dorms.

Spoiler alert: It wasn’t.

“I know he means well, but he’s not my dad, right?”

There was a note of ruefulness in the Prefect’s voice that Idia was quick to note, but just as quickly discarded because no. Absolutely not. No, he was not going to get roped up into the Prefect’s problems. He had Board Game Club following the events of the winter holidays and Azul was quick to complain about the destruction done to his restaurant! (There was also the Scarabia Overblot, but not many people talked about it unless you were a Scarabian and offended on Kalim’s behalf, but that was another matter entirely).

“And you know what else?” Was the Prefect still talking? Sevens, the Prefect was still talking! Was Idia’s blatant discomfort not enough to dissuade further social interaction? Or had Idia unlocked a secret achievement: meeting a sassy, sadistic Prefect? “He told me that I needed to start tying my ties because he won’t do them for me anymore! I can do them, I just like it when he does it because his knots are perfect and I feel like an honor student.”

Idia was going to regret this later (in hindsight, he could have ended that conversation then and there by agreeing with the Prefect and then saying that he had plans to do! because! he! had! a! campaign!), but he piped up, sardonic judgment in his voice, “So that thing around your neck is Riddle’s doing?”

“This gorgeous thing?” The Ramshackle Prefect patted their tie that had been so horrible crumpled and knotted into a sad mass of fabric that looked like it wanted to be a tie, but was weighed down with too much responsibility. Like child support. Taxes. And maybe vehicular manslaughter. Or you know, weighing down your future with expectations that you had to fulfill because of your lineage. “You know, you have the same look Riddle gave me when he saw me earlier. It’s like… he was so amazed by my mad skills that he had no choice but to stare. A total loss for words!”

“You…” Gloomurai abort. Gloomurai. Abort. Gloomurai! Abort! “You need help.”

Scratch that, Idia needed help.

Send dudes! Send the troops!

Call in the reinforcements!

Sevens, screw his thoughts regarding internet anonymity! Send in Muscle Red!!!

He needed an adult!

(Yes, he was technically not a minor anymore, but he needed an adultier adult!)

“Um…”

“Shhh!”

Idia huffed a little to himself as he looked at the length of the Prefect’s tie, the fabric somewhat wrinkled and worn from their attempts to make some sort of bow around their neck. For reasons that Idia could not quite fathom, the conversation right after he had noted how much the Prefect sucked at tying their tie had resulted in this.

(“You’re such a total n00b! ROTFLOL. No wonder the Taskmaster himself singled you out! In fact, I wonder why the final boss from Pomefiore hasn’t talked to you yet!”

“Oh, Vil? He did.”

“And?” Idia hadn’t meant to ask, but his curiosity was piqued. Thr Ignihyde Housewarden managed to evade his fellow third year because of their differing class schedules, but that didn’t mean he did not have his fair share of scoldings.

“He told me that poor little potatoes like me needed to get tended to better. Whatever that meant.”

Lucky! Usually, Vil would have had Idia on the ropes, fighting for his life, while Vil threatened to throw toner, moisturizer, and other beauty products at him. Pfffttt, as if the family curse wasn’t already doing wonders to his body.

“Ha! I definitely could do better than you!”

“Oh really?” Oh. Oh no. Whenever normies looked like that, it could mean only one thing: trouble. “Why don’t you show me how?”

Say no.

Idia say no.

Idia say—

“You’ll be like my kouhai! For tying ties. Unless you’re as bad at it like me”

That did it.

Idia placed the energy drink on the ground and began typing in a search query into his tablet.

“First of all, kouhai means junior. Obviously, I’m your senpai or your senior. Second of all, of course I know how to tie a tie! What do you take me for? I’m going to tie a tie so—“)

After wrangling the Prefect’s tie away from their ratty uniform, Idia tried to remember how to tie a tie. His fingers, as deft and as quick as they were when commanding the keyboard or maneuvering a mouse, were somewhat slow and clumsy as he tried to shift the fabric into a loop. How did his father teach him again? It was somewhat awkward—when were things not awkward?—and it lasted a lot longer than it should have, but eventually, Idia was choked into submission into society’s standards of what a young man with a promising future should look like.

Ugh.

And then his dad tried to talk to him about the future, but Idia kinda, sorta tuned him out because he really didn’t want to think about the future any more than he had to. Thus, Idia was dressed like any first year student should… But that was only for a little while.

After Idia suffered through a week of choking himself or looking the fool with his poorly tied tie, he ordered a special, custom-made hoodie. And then he never looked back. Yes, he was not as well dressed as someone like Vil or Riddle, but it wasn’t like he aspired to be them. As if anyone other than overachievers and those with images to maintain actually cared about what they looked like.

Idia was already a freak; if he looked like a normal preppy extravert, he would undoubtedly look even more freaky.

(Like an alien trying to fit in).

Anyway, back to the matter at hand, Idia was screwed.

He screwed up.

GG.

FF.

All of his HP had decreased to an increasingly concerning level and now, he was only a second away from curling into a ball and crying. Where was Ortho when he needed him? You could only watch the same Magicam video of how to tie a tie so many times before you began to realize that you were not as skilled as you thought you were.

Also, the Prefect was giving him a strange smile that made Idia’s cheeks heat and his hair—SEVENS HIS HAIR!

Curse this curse!

“So… do you give—”

Idia, in an uncharacteristic manner, bared his teeth wide as he glared at the Prefect with the power of a million dying suns. “No! I will git gud! This tie will bow down to my brilliance!”

The tie was not OP, it couldn’t be.

That was unreal and Idia was being realistic.

All he needed to do was breathe and—

“You know—” Stop talking. Stop talking. Why are you talking? “—I think I know what the problem is!”

Idia, in near tears and just about ready to call it a day, had no choice but to blurt out, “What? What could it possibly be?”

Yes, he was that desperate.

“Well, you’re holding it in your hands and tying it that way. Don’t you think that it would be easier if you tied it on me? Plus, if you succeed, I get a perfect tie!”

PHYSICAL CONTACT.

WAS THIS WHAT THE WORLD WAS COMING TO?

PHYSICAL CONTACT?

And then, Idia heard the ‘if’ that the Prefect said. And then the implication set in.

If he succeeds?

There was obvious psychological manipulation here—the Prefect must have spent way too much time at Octavinelle because this stunk of seafood—but Idia had no choice.

This was like the sunk cost fallacy. He had already spent so much time trying to show off in front of the Prefect that it would do him no good if he backed off now.

“O-oh! O-okay!”

Idia’s fingers trembled as he approached the Prefect. Now that he was close to them, he realized that even though he was slouching, the Ramshackle Prefect was actually really short compared to him. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have felt so nervous—the Prefect was not as intimidating as other Night Raven College students—but still.

Was the Prefect going to recoil in disgust when he touched them?

Were they going to make fun of him for fumbling for so long?

Or—

“Keep going, Idia!” The Prefect cheered. Their eyes were on his hands, both of which were maneuvering the fabric of the tie around their neck with slow, stuttering movements. Swallowing hard, Idia found himself entranced as the Prefect’s small hands began to guide his own into vaguely familiar movements.

First, the tie was measured out to its correct length. Then, when Idia began to falter, the Prefect (again) guided his hands until he remembered that he had to cross the length of the left piece of fabric over the right. He would then bring up the left piece again. A beat passed as Idia tried to remember the succeeding steps before starting up again, this time, with a little more confidence. Once that was done, he brought up the left piece of fabric that was longer and thicker than the right so that it could enter into the loop that was created from the previous steps.

And then, Idia tugged until the knot of the tie was perfectly formed and flush against the Prefect’s throat.

He…

He actually did it?

He actually—

“Oh, wow! That’s so cool!” The Prefect beamed the world’s brightest smile at Idia.

The effect was immediate and painful; the AoE would have been off the charts if it were not for the following move that the Prefect made.

Without so much as a look of remorse, the Prefect tugged off the tie, undid the loops, and gave Idia the looping, crumpled fabric.

“Now, you gotta teach me this time.”

NO.

NOOOOOO—

“Ortho, I have now entered my villain era.” Idia slumped into his bed, not at all minding the crumbs from his ultra healthy dietary habits. As he curled up, he saw that Ortho was floating beside his head, a look of concern over his childlike features.

“Are you referring to your fashion session with the Ramshackle Prefect? I saw the entire thing! I had no idea that the Prefect was so bad at tying ties!”

“Me neither.”

“But at the very least you managed to taste that new energy drink, right?”

Idia felt his breath catch.

“FUCK.”

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

TWISTED WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst idia #twst yuu #twisted wonderland idia #idia shroud #twisted wonderland yuu #dearestones #devintrinidad #gender neutral #gn! reader

29 notes · View notes

bittersweet-in-boston · 2 months

Text

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten fics and see if there’s a pattern!

1. Bucky and Yelena are chattering rapidly in Russian as they walk through the lobby of Stark Industries, so they’re not really paying attention to the people around them. (Like shadows turning red)

2. “OK, Bob. Thanks for expediting that shipment to La Mesa last week, you’re a lifesaver,” says Steve at his computer monitor. (You cannot hide behind disguise)

3. The shiny metal platform standing in the middle of the woods, red-lit pillars glowing on the corners and Thor’s hammer tilting jauntily in the middle like some semi-drunken little sculpture, does nothing to ease the anxiety in Bucky’s gut. (This could be the end of everything)

4. “It’s cold as balls in here, Jesus Christ.” (Amid the cold of winter)

5. “What have you done?!?” (You feel the sweet breath of time)

6. The Soviet icebreaker Murmansk glides easily through the water. (When you stop being a ghost in a shell)

7. The darkness keeps receding and returning, and Steve has the impression of trudging a long way down gloomy roads and through deserted city blocks before he finally finds what he’s looking for, a tall 1930s-era building not far from where he grew up in Flatbush. (Down in an earlier round)

8. The start-time of the fight is only half an hour away when there’s an unexpected knock at the dressing room door. (We’re going down swinging)

9. “Hey Buck, I’m off to the studio!” calls Steve from the living room. (Safest)

10. Oh my god. (Underestimate him at your peril)

I guess I like variety?? The first sentence of a fic is always hardest, imho. Thanks @thisonesatellite for the prompt! Anyone else feel free to do their own lists, no pressure. 💕

#stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #captain america #marvel #stevebucky #opening lines #holy shit I’ve written more than i thought over the past 4 months

19 notes · View notes

masonshaws · 1 year

Text

minnesota wild players as dog breeds

who asked for this? nobody. who thought of this? me. i made one comparison in an unrelated post and as such. this is happening.

strap in everyone. this is very long so i'm read more-ing so you don't all hate a list of 20+ players with included pictures. so open this one up just to see some cute dogs even if you don't care about the rest.

#2 calen addison - french bulldog

just incredibly chilled out but a jester in his own right. very square head.

#4 jon merrill - irish wolfhound

a calm, even-tempered gentle giant with a love for kids. incredibly social and kind. great hair choices.

#5 jacob middleton - giant schnauzer

i’m gonna be real this one is mostly for the stache but ALSO. smart, extremely protective and loyal, sturdy, energetic. bred both as a herder and a guard dog.

#12 matt boldy - golden retriever

outgoing, playful, loving, loyal, and smart while being also kind of a dope. incredibly popular. floppy with incredibly pettable hair.

#13 sam steel - swedish vallhund

sturdy and no-frills, cheerful and sociable. this one’s really a dart throw sorry guys

#14 joel eriksson ek - kuvasz

big and sturdy and an excellent protector. intelligent and determined and can be hard to train (develop) properly. can be deceptively quick.

#15 mason shaw - schipperke

sturdy, lively, curious, mischievous, energetic. very protective. loves his people.

#17 marcus foligno - chesapeake bay retriever

not strictly a guard dog but does well in the role if need be. intelligent, upbeat, high-energy, with an independent streak. incredibly loyal and affectionate to his people.

#18 jordan greenway - great dane

i guess he could knock you over if he tried. bighugeboi but also kind of a layabout.

#21 brandon duhaime - bull terrier

absolute comedian and rascal. high-energy, tenacious, playful, devoted, with an independent and stubborn streak. robust and muscular with a distinctly-shaped head. obsessed with “fun and games”.

#24 matt dumba - bulldog

loyal, courageous, easygoing, tenacious. playful and affectionate. extremely sociable and good with kids. used to be a lot tougher and stronger than he is now for reasons out of his control.

#25 jonas brodin - puli

some snippets from the akc page: “agile and light on their feet” “acrobat of the dog world” “do not suffer fools lightly” “no problem humiliating you in public”. the dog version of brods’ exceptional skating and willingness to use it to absolutely stonewall everybody. incredibly intelligent and loyal.

#26 connor dewar - manchester terrier (standard)

keenly observant and intelligent. loves a challenge. affectionate to its people. active and particularly quick - akc calls out the breed’s motor and “muscular caboose”, which. well.

#29 marc-andré fleury - weimaraner

incredibly active, friendly, and affectionate, and probably too smart for his own good. an icon.

#32 filip gustavsson - great pyrenees

big, gentle, quiet, but bred to be a guardian. a big cute loveable softie and defender.

#33 alex goligoski - bedlington terrier

lanky fellow. versatile, energetic without causing trouble, loyal, loving to family.

#36 mats zuccarello - west highland white terrier

strong, tough, and courageous, especially for his size. playful, energetic, independent, incredibly smart. beloved everywhere he goes.

#38 ryan hartman - staffordshire bull terrier

stocky and fearless. instinct to fight can get him into trouble. unfairly maligned. loyal, playful, and affectionate to his people.

#46 jared spurgeon - miniature poodle

small and delicate-looking, but wickedly smart and athletic. affectionate and companionable. underestimate him at your own peril.

#75 ryan reaves - rottweiler

big, muscular, sleek, and strong - playful, loving, and incredibly gentle to friends and family but knows how to protect and by god is he willing to do it. calm and confident and incredibly sociable.

#89 freddy gaudreau - border collie

incredibly smart with an inexhaustible energy and work ethic. playful and affectionate with loved ones.

#97 kirill kaprizov - siberian husky

deceptively strong, and used to the cold. extremely friendly and social, and can be prone to whining, although it’s very funny when they do so. boundless energy and seemingly never tired of work and play. (the siberia bit was indeed happy coincidence btw)

bonus: dean evason - boxer

you know why. strong, protective, deeply funny without even trying. prone to throwing the body around at anyone in sight.

bonus: bill guerin - chinook

smart, patient, calm, confident, outgoing. very mellow when not in work mode. a blend of strength and speed.

#today on posts i made to pass the time at work #minnesota wild #mn wild #nhl #wild #op #dogs

62 notes · View notes

dispatchvampire · 3 months

Text

Close Encounters of the Preferred Kind - (MCU/Justified Crossover)

Part 2 in my wholly unintentional Two Snipers series.

Rating: PG-13

Fandom: Justified/The Avengers (MCU) Crossover (kinda)

Pairing: Clint Barton/Tim Gutterson

Word Count: 2066

Warnings: Fluff (kinda sorta, if you squint), canon level violence, aliens, cussing, a lot of cussing.

Summary: Set after the events of 'Bad Mistakes (I've Made A Few)', this is the second meeting of our fateful couple, with aliens invading, families meeting, and, of course, Tim's long-suffering boss, Chief Deputy Marshal Art Mullen. Life gets messy when worlds collide.

Author’s Notes: 100% did not intend to write a follow-up to BM, but these two don't really do things on my timeline or my schedule. Anyway, the idea of this made me laugh, this is what happens when you introduce your Boo to your people, and everybody had issues. Oh, and the mood board was all me, with picture credit going to their varying photographers.

Eastern Kentucky is not where one expects Armageddon to start, but there it is and there they are.

“What the fuck am I looking at, Art?” the sniper asked his superior officer as he stared unflinchingly down his rifle scope. When he’d gotten the call that all hell had broken loose in Noble’s Holler, Tim figured it was more methed up psychopaths who were unclear on the local mayor’s penchant for pig sticking. Purple creatures falling out of a hole in the sky with more tentacles than a jellyfish was not on his bingo card.

“I got no idea,” the older man answered, never once looking up from his binoculars, “but my suggestion is nothing but headshots.” He paused as he loaded his own rifle and stretched out on a bluff overlooking the mayhem next to Tim. To look at the Chief Deputy in his tie and button down shirt, he didn’t seem the type to get down on the ground and dirty, but most folks underestimated him to their peril. The man taught at Glynco and was a badass well before Tim got proficient with a slingshot, much less a rifle. “Assuming that those are actually their heads.”

“Copy that.” There was nothing quite as satisfying as brass ejecting from the port and watching his target become iridescent green mist.

Alien invasions were not generally the purview of the United States Marshals Service, but occasionally, needs must.

The giant millipedes had massive tentacles and leathery purple skin which was impervious to conventional small arms fire; the only thing that seemed to fell the murderous, marauding bastards was a shot through he presumed was the eye, a target approximate the size of a navel orange, or through the mouth, an open maw about the size of a peach. Luckily, the produce section had never been an issue for Tim.

He’d been shooting and reloading for the better part of an hour after the damn portal opened up, doing his best to defend Ellstin Limehouse’s normally quiet enclave as best he could. It was the least he could do, even if he didn’t exactly trust the guy. Their interpersonal issues had nothing to do with the welfare of the innocents being set upon by these nightmare fuel monstrosities.

Correction: “By comparison, my nightmares are a breeze.”

When the first creature fell without his intervention, Tim was startled enough to jerk back from the ledge and take his eyes off the scope, just in time to see the honest-to-God Captain America shield go flying past the end of his rifle, taking out a creature coming up on his flank that he’d missed before bouncing back to its owner with disturbing accuracy.

“I am entirely too old for this shit,” Art grumbled as he rolled away from the edge to reload his rifle with all the annoyance and irritation of a deluge of Friday afternoon paperwork.

“I will be goddamned,” Tim murmured reverently as his brain processed what was happening. Creatures began falling left, right, and center as a roaring overhead signaled the arrival of Iron Man while the roaring on the ground was the giant green menace known as the Hulk ripping through these things like they were made of tissue paper. But that wasn’t what held his interest.

There, big as life and dressed in form-fitting purple and black kevlar, was the luscious not-so-little secret he’d been keeping since his detail in DC. What should have been a routine job a couple months ago turned into a three-night-stand for the duration of the operation, and then some flirty texts back and forth and more than the occasional round of phone sex in the time intervening. None of that could have prepared him for seeing Clint in action up close and personal.

The armless black suit emphasized every unreasonably pretty inch of the man, from his ridiculous arms that wielded a bow as ably as he hefted his own rifle, shot after unerring shot bounding and leaping nimbly from cover to cover, down to the perfect cupcake ass that fit in his hands just so. Goddamn the man was so pretty he could be considered a potentially lethal distraction.

“You gonna watch or are you gonna shoot?” Raylan demanded from his right as he stretched out on the ground with a rifle to join the party. The cowboy had been late to the party since he and Rachel had been left to man the office in Lexington, but once gunplay became the order of the day, Tim knew it was only a matter of time before the man in the infamous tan hat showed up. That he was able to convince Rachel, their normally by-the-book and most level-headed colleague, to come out on an alien invasion spoke to the man’s ability to charm the devil himself out of his seat in Hell.

“Fuck you,” Tim snarled, but without any heat behind it as he took up his position again and began firing once more at the few remaining creatures on the ground below them.

From start to finish was just under three hours of sustained fire, and when Tim finally rose to his feet to survey the area, the story was told in the sea of expended brass cartridges and rivers of green blood running through the streets of the valley below. Black trucks were rolling in from both sides of the holler with SHIELD logos on them, signaling the cleanup crew.

“You know what time it is now, right?” Raylan asked with a devilish grin as he doffed his hat to shrug out of his ballistic vest. He’d stripped down to a form-fitting white t-shirt and looked more like he’d been called in from a day off than from a day at the office.

“What’s that?” Art demanded as the guys helped him to his feet, brushing an annoyed hand over the wrinkles and streaks of dirt that his wife Leslie would likely fuss over later. After she yelled at him about going out on an alien invasion not two months out of a stint at the heart hospital.

With a shiteating grin and the pop of a peppermint Altoid in his mouth, Raylan nodded toward the collection of superheroes at the edge of the fray, watching the cleanup proceedings begin and talking amongst themselves. “The interagency debrief, of course!” He was off before anyone had a chance to contradict him, leaving Tim, Rachel, and Art to chase after the cocksure cowboy.

“Can’t get him to even look at paperwork any other time,” Rachel grumbled as they slowly approached the other group.

“This ain’t paperwork,” Tim replied, though his eyes were on one thing and one thing only.

Like they had a mind of their own, his feet carried him right up until he was close enough to tap Clint on the shoulder. “How do, stranger.”

The pure joy on the man’s face when he turned around did funny, fizzy things to his insides that he was loath to examine, and were dangerously close to giddy. The man smelled like sweat and looked like heaven, and fuck if all he wanted to do was run his hands over those arms that had held him up against a wall more than once. As it was, he was standing closer than was strictly necessary and well beyond the bounds of ‘just friends reuniting’. The desire to wrap his arms around the man was damn difficult to quell.

“I wondered if I’d get to see you,” the archer replied with a shy smile and flushed cheeks. “I mean, I’d hoped,” he rambled on, “but then—” he gestured at the carnage behind him.

For a moment, it was like the world had winnowed down to just the two of them. “I get it. I’m glad you’re here now, though.”

“Me too.”

And then the moment was broken by the diminutive redhead standing next to them elbowing Clint in the ribs. “Who’s your friend, Barton?” She was equally clad in black, the kevlar skating over and highlighting every single curve and hollow, highlighting both the beauty and the danger that she embodied.

Rolling his eyes, Clint took half a step back to face her more fully. “Nat, this is Tim Gutterson of the Marshals.”

Her green eyes lit up as her lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “The hottie you told me about from a couple months ago in DC?”

The blond’s eyes widened comically as his face shifted from flushed to pale to tomato red with alarming speed. “Real subtle, Nat.”

If his face felt hot before, now it felt like the skin was melting off of him. The idea of Clint talking about him, to Black Widow of all people, combined with the adrenaline dump of the situation only added to the feeling of surreal dissociation. Feeling a bit cheeky, he grinned slyly as he looked Clint up and down. “Talking about me, Clint? My heart’s a-flutter with curiosity.”

“Deputy Gutterson, you gonna introduce your friends?” Art’s voice was a bucket of cold water down his back as he suddenly remembered both his location and his audience.

From Raylan’s grin, he knew he would never EVER live this down, no matter how many terrible situations the cowboy’s penchant for prohibited pussy landed them in, and Rachel? Well, she was the office master interrogator for a reason and he knew damn sure that he would be spilling everything he knew to her before they made it to the Lexington city limits.

“Chief Deputy Art Mullen, this is Clint Barton of the Avengers and …” he trailed off, uncertain how to introduce the Black Frickin’ Widow.

She stepped up and shook Art’s hand like a practiced politician. “Natasha Romanov. Lovely to meet you.”

The older man smiled and, while Tim couldn’t swear to it, appeared to blush like a schoolboy. “Likewise.”

Not to be outdone, Raylan smoothly inserted himself between them with his hand out and his 1000 megawatt gunslinger charm turned to ‘thermonuclear’. “Raylan Givens, Miss Romanov. Longtime admirer of your work.”

She giggled. The assassin actually fucking giggled and her nose wrinkled. “You can call me Natasha.”

Art watched this scene, the four of them talking amongst themselves, with apocalyptic levels of horror dawning on his face. The sheer amount of paperwork Raylan and Tim, hell Raylan by himself most days, generate was enough to fell a small forest. These folks together were an environmental crime waiting to happen. The potential bodycount of a Raylan and Romanoff team-up was nothing short of an imminent violation of the Geneva Convention. “Oh absolutely fucking not.”

All four heads turned in his direction, Raylan’s mouth already open and ready to rock, but he was having none of the bullshit.

“You,” Art pointed to the cowboy, “get in the car.”

“Bu—”

“Nope,” he held up the finger of doom, the finger of ‘unpaid time off if he kept on,’ it 3was one they were all exceptionally familiar with. “Car. Now.” Turning to Tim, he softened a bit. “Say your goodbyes, we have paperwork.”

Rather than argue, Tim merely nodded, cringing when he turned to face Clint. “Dad says I gotta go.”

Clint’s smirk was nothing short of wicked and it was suddenly a billion degrees around Tim. “I’ll be around tonight if you wanna meet up.”

“I’d like that just fine.” Anything else he wanted to say was cut off at a sound he rarely heard outside of the comforts of her mother’s house. A sound that stripped away the years and the edge to reveal a girl much more carefree. Deputy Marshal Rachel ‘I make suspects cry for funsies’ Brooks was standing off to the side and making googoo eyes at none other than the Brooklyn Boys. Captain Frickin America and the Winter Goddamn Soldier were flirting with his best friend and putting their numbers in her phone.

“See what you did?” Art demanded from behind him as he leaned against the closed passenger door of the sedan that sealed Raylan inside.

“Me?” Tim demanded in affront. “How is this my fault?”

Art’s face was a mask of vaguely amused sarcasm. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Well, now that’s just hurtful. Besides,” he threw his rifle bag in the trunk before slinking into the back seat on the driver’s side and meeting his friend’s eyes in the rearview mirror, “I thought that was Raylan.”

#avengers fan fiction #justified fanfiction #justified #justified fic #tim gutterson #tim gutterson fic #clint barton x tim gutterson #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton #avengers crossover fic #avengers and justified crossover #justified crossover fic #my writing

7 notes · View notes

vendettavalor · 5 months

Text

⚔️ Miscellaneous Character Info⚔️

SAVAGE OPRESS

— BASICS.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE?

Tall. Canon states he's 7'1". I headcanon him being even taller at around 7'5" with how he towers over others.

▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT ?

Savage couldn't care one way or another about his height. He appreciates it since it helps him appear large, imposing, and intimidating. But ultimately, even if he was short he would not care. His size is not what his enemies should be worried about.

▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE?

No hair. Only his crown - the term by which Dathomirians refer to their horns. He's kind of meticulous about caring for it so it's 're basically hair though.

▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING?

More than he'd ever admit. It was part of the culture. A Dathomirian male's crown is weapon and a symbol of his status. The bigger the crown, the more powerful, healthy, and therefore more desirable he is. But beyond the cultural aspect, good hygiene is just a requirement. After all, the individual horns aren't actually horns - they're antlers since they're made of bone and not keratin. Unlike antlers though, they keep growing and are nourished by blood vessels, meaning they never calcify and fall off. This means if they're not taken care of and maintained, any damage could mean a very painful and possibly fatal infection. Plus, it's just a point of pride for him.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK ?

Not really. Savage, like most males of his culture, views his very being as a tool and a weapon. His appearance doesn't matter. His skills are what count. He allows enemies to underestimate him at their own peril.

— PREFERENCES.

▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS?

Outdoors. He prefers more temperate to hot climates like that of the Dathomirian village. Being inside for too long makes him feel confined.

▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE?

Sunshine. Dathomirians enjoy sunning themselves. They're not cold-blooded by any means, but the sun is very pleasant on their skin. Granted, Savage doesn't mind the rain. He's liable to stand in it like a koala if need me, completely disregarding it as it drenches him.

▸ FOREST OR BEACH?

Forest. The bogs and fens of Dathomir are familiar to him, and the forests are very similar. Though he might also enjoy the beach if he knew how to swim and also could get over how open it is.

▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS?

Metals. It's not a matter of form but of function. Metals can create tools and weapons which are useful. Gems do not hold his interest unless they have some greater functional use to attract him.

▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES?

Flowers. Dathomirians have sensitive senses. Savage is no exception. If anything, he's only more sensitive due to his alterations. He doesn't mind the scents of flowers. In fact, he even finds them soothing and pleasant. But perfumes are just a bit too strong for him. He tends to get headaches and gets very grumpy about how they make breathing a little bit difficult and his eyes water.

▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE?

Savage does not judge by appearance. If that were the case, Kenobi would have killed him instead of simply taking an arm and the nibs of his crown spikes. He learned from his brother the mistake of judging someone by their appearance - quickly. He knows now to make judgment based on a person's personality. Their beliefs, their actions, their gestures, their habits. That's what he bases opinions on. It's also how he sizes people up to determine how best to approach them.

▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD?

Depends on where he is in his journey. But for the most part, Savage prefers to be alone or only accompanied by his brothers. He's never had a strong sense of community, never had a circle of friends or companions. It's only ever been him and his family. Sometimes it's Feral, sometimes it's Maul. Ideally, he'd like to be able to go along with both.

▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY?

Order. Savage grew up in a cult, and that is not an exaggeration. The Nightbrothers were a strict band of males who focused heavily on the very archaic, traditional beliefs that the males were made to fight and be selected as breeding stock. They existed as weapons and tools of carnage made to create stronger and more resilient offspring to continue the cycle. His life has centered around conflict and survival since the day he was born. That rigid structure and desire to fit into a specific role follows him everywhere.

▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES?

Painful truths. Savage can handle the truth a lot better than he handles lies. He'd prefer people just be honest with him. Lies waste his time and infuriate him.

▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC?

Magic. Mostly because that's what he was raised with knowing. The magick and the enchantments and the spells of the Nightsisters were a pivotal part of his life. He grew up knowing that his fate was intrinsically tied to the Witches of Dathomir and the Nightsisters. And also because, let's be honest - Savage runs on instinct. His skills of reason and deduction are weak at best. He doesn't know the first thing about science beyond the rudimentary basics of biology, physics, and engineering required to make blades, make bombs, and make babies. Maul was the brains of the operation for a reason.

▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT?

Peace was never an option. This man was born and bred for conflict. Woe be unto anyone who forgets that for even a second.

▸ NIGHT OR DAY?

Night. Sensitive eyes see better in the darkness. It's cooler and more temperate but generally not too cold and he just enjoys the feeling of an evening breeze and the moonlight highlighting his surroundings. It speaks to his inner beast. He's a Nightbrother after all.

▸ DUSK OR DAWN?

Dusk. See above. And also, weirdly tender as it is, Savage enjoys the sunset more than he enjoys the twilight.

▸ WARMTH OR COLD ?

Warmth. Again, Dathomir leaned from temperate to a tropical in climate. Heat was more common than cold and he enjoys that a lot more. He doesn't claim to have an intolerance but... he definitely isn't fond of the cold.

▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS?

A few close friends. Not even that actually. Just his brothers, thanks.

▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME?

Reading. Savage has never played games. Not even as a child growing up. The closest thing to games was grounding Feral and calming him down whenever he got scared or whenever he panicked and started scrambling around looking for baby Maul because he turned his back for two seconds and saw he'd disappeared from the mat where he left him. At least reading makes him feel smarter and more prepared for things.

— QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS?

Savage has a tendency to stare. Very, very intensely. He was never taught manners to be fair. His natural inclination is to assess people, analyze how much of a threat they are, and watch closely for any sign of danger. This leads to his staring long and hard for inappropriate amounts of time.

Another habit he has is tapping his claws or shifting position often. Folding and unfolding his arms, flexing his fists, cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders. Despite the transformation, he has a lot of pent of energy. He feels the urge to constantly be moving, constantly be looking and patrolling for threats, scouting out danger or watching the perimeter of his "territory." He sometimes has to be refocused.

Mumbling. Savage has a very low voice and while he can project it, he leans towards being more submissive despite his size. Thus, he speaks quietly and softly - unless he's facing an adversary. This means that, at least around Maul and Feral, he tends to mumble.

Rubbing his crown against surfaces. As mentioned previously, he's a little bit obsessive about his crown. He tends to it incessantly when he can and that means whenever he makes himself at home in a new place, he frequently rubs the spikes against surfaces. It has a dual-purpose, sharpen them up a bit and keep the circulation good, and also to leave his scent and let others know that this is his territory.

▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM?

Nightbrothers are told not to form attachments. They're soldiers, weapons. Weapons can't feel. But oh, Savage feels. He feels more than either of his brothers, and no amount of transformation can take that from him. He does not remember his mother, but he remembers Maul and Feral. He remembers raising both of them from the time they were infants and while he himself was still a child. It was brutal, unforgiving, but beautiful - and he would not trade those days for the galaxy. He did not show it, but when he killed that construct of Feral the Nightsisters conjured, he genuinely though he had killed his brother. And he sobbed. He snapped out of that spell just long enough to weep. He was devastated at the realization that he thought he had murdered his own brother. And when he came too after the fight with Palpatine and Maul wasn't there? He cried even harder, because he loved Maul, he found him, and he lost him again. He thought he'd failed to protect him. And that hurt him more than the thought that he was alone and had no one now ever could. (At least there is a small comfort in the fact that it was Feral who found him, so not all hope was lost. But God, losing Maul altered him. He regained some of his previous heart. The softer, more sensitive bits of himself that the spell repressed.)

▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS?

Savage's fondest memories come from his brothers in their childhood. Carrying Maul on his back and Feral in a pouch slung across his chest while out foraging in the fens. Teaching Maul how to talk and walk. Teaching Feral how to tend to his little nubbins. Teaching both of them to fight using sticks. Teaching them how to climb and having to be the one to help them jump down when they got stuck. Teaching them how to hunt small game and prepare it for meals. Hands down his favorite memories are the ones where both of his brothers are snuggled into him and dozing off while he lays back and watches the stars above them.

▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL?

It's harder for him not to.

▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN?

No one will ever see it. You will never know if Savage is deeply and truly upset. He's too good at playing the stoic facade. Not even his brothers have seen him cry. He waits until he is well and truly alone and even then, he fights the tears. Tries to wipe them away and just sniffles as he does. But when he is well and truly at his limit and the burden on his heart becomes just too much to bear any longer, he falls to his hands and knees and just sobs. It's not pleasant to hear. It sounds like a wounded animal screaming out. The tears come fast and free and his teeth are bared like a snarling wolf's. He claws at the ground and just screams until it all comes pouring out of him like a fountain of emotion. And once his vocal chords are raw and he has nothing left to wail out, once his chest is empty, he heaves in breaths, picks himself up, wipes himself clean, and carries on like nothing happened.

It never really helps though.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE?

Yes. But only a select few. You'll never guess - his brothers. His kin are the only ones he truly and completely trusts his life with.

▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE?

Stupider than usual. Savage does not understand the concept of attraction or romance. Those just don't exist in his society. He was raised in a cult where he was viewed as breeding stock and nothing more. Any coupling that occurred was for the express purpose of producing strong offspring. There was no love or romance and affection or connection. No deeper emotional attachment to it.

He doesn't believe that someone would or could have feelings of romance or affection towards him. His mind can only comprehend the idea that they might be experiencing physical attraction and want him to be the sire to strong children. Emotional sentimentality does not make sense. Likewise, any attraction he experiences is strange and confusing. He understands only that he might be having a biological response to physically attractive qualities. That doesn't get him to act. He just waits for it fizzle out.

The worst part is when it persists and becomes an emotional attachment. That's when the confusion becomes frustration. He doesn't things anymore. Doesn't understand why he wants to be near the person more. Why he wants to hear their voice. Why he suddenly feels so protective over them and thinks about being aggressive towards people that engage with them, even if he's familiar with them and would never think so otherwise. All he knows is that when he's with them, he feels comfortable. Soothed, even. And he doesn't know why. Nor does he seek to know why. He just sort of keeps an eye on it and waits for it to pass because, per his culture, it's not his place to engage. Man will pine forever and never even realize it.

And flirting? Don't even think about it. He doesn't know what flirting is and any sort of flirting or even bold displays of romance will go right over his head. Go ahead - give him a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates and kiss him directly on the mouth. He has no idea what you're on about. This could be a sign of friendship for all he knows. Unless you're going to sit him down and tell him directly and to his face that you're in love with him and want a relationship with him, and then take the time to explain what that means in detail with comparisons to his culture, he is lost. He's that dense and inexperienced.

Because why would a weapon need to know what love is?

Tagged by: @mayxthexforce

Tagging: @tacticalvalor (Ghost), @ambitchouss @valorums @fledermuse (Jane) @rathalascendant @calibratedafflatus (Dani) @heroinesjourncy (Doc Ock) and anyone else who feels up for it!

#// this man is a giant sad wet cat #dash game : i’ve been caught up in a riptide #about : you’re just a lost cause #( cm : savage opress )#tagged : maybe it's me #mutual : all of my best friends #mayxthexforce

6 notes · View notes

kovacs-of-courage · 11 months

Text

Crimson Snow

This is a short blurb I wrote for Warriors a while ago, I wanted to write something with the quote below, and involving Warriors at the beginning of his adventure.

----------------------------------

They underestimate you at their own peril

---

Valor hit the ground tumbling, bitter snow running through the tears in his tattered tunic. The cries of his knights over the ridge took his concern, even as the wizzrobe’s spell tried it’s damnedest to poke and prod at every one of his body's nerves. It was amazing, really, how much faith Impa had in him, especially now- as he lay half dead, in a frozen ditch.

Valor shambled to get to his feet, his teeth chattering, the frigid air biting at his exposed skin. Winter had set in over Hyrule, yet the campaign’s march hadn’t slowed. It was his first winter on campaign, and his first campaign in command, two red-flags for the price of one. Valor hurriedly sifted through the snow for his sword, his hands having gone numb. There was a panic bubbling in his gut, the type of fear that threw away thought and reason entirely. His men needed him, his men needed a hero, and he was failing them.

Each second that passed felt like an eternity, another moment for more blood to be spilled on his hands. When he finally grabbed ahold of his sword, there was no sense of relief, only the mad sprint to the battlefield. Valor was green in more ways than just his choice of clothes, and all of his men knew it. He was proving it to himself now, breathlessly sprinting through the frozen forest. He’d been promoted to officer from recruit-in-training after his actions during the attack on Hyrule Castle, an unprecedented move by Impa. Valor knew she expected great things of him, the stuff of legend.

He struggled to share her unflappability.

Valor caught up to his column, entrenched in fierce combat with the monsters that’d ambushed them. He caught the eyes of more than a few of his knights, and it wasn’t hard to tell why. The veneer of his carefully curated appearance had been broken completely. He looked like hell, like he’d just been thrown head first into a bokoblin camp, and then spat back out into a lizardos den.

Valor ignored their stares, like he ignored the lingering pain firing through his side. He had to appear strong, to be the person that his men needed him to be. The panic from earlier had calmed, now that he was in the eye of the storm. It took a moment for him to find his second in command, the lines of battle were so spread out.

The soldier in question, his first sergeant, upon seeing Valor--had reacted somewhere in between the lines of surprised that he was alive, and relieved that their leader wasn’t going to be knocked off the census.

“S-Sir, I’m glad to see you’re alive! We almost thought you were a goner” The knight stammered.

Valor put on a smile, confident.

“Have a little more faith, Ians. If I’m going to die, it’s going to be on my feet.” Valor said.

“Of course sir,” first sergeant Ians replied.

“What’s been going on since I was gone? Valor asked.

Ians took a pregnant pause, seemingly doing a once over of his platoon, who had taken the grim task of protecting their wounded.

“It’s not looking good, sir. Third and fourth platoons were cut off from the rest of us almost immediately. First has been protecting our wounded here, and the second platoon is having a hell of a time trying to free those trapped. That wizzrobe is making it damn near impossible. ” Ian said.

Valor turned to the east, where the second platoon was fighting, and where the cackling laugh of the wizzrobe echoed from.

“I want you to keep first on lockdown here, the wounded are your priority. I’m going to help second platoon.” Valor said.

“With all due respect sir, you’re going to get eaten alive in the condition that you’re in.”

It was a valid concern, Valor didn’t fault his officer for bringing it up. He had limits like any other person, with boundaries he physically couldn’t cross, or so he told himself. The role of a hero required him to be more than he was now, he had to be an icon of victory, not a mortal stuck on the reins of their own limitations.

He would be who his country needed him to be, and right now, they needed a Warrior.

Valor didn’t look back to Ians, his vision set on the coming conflict.

“We all make our own fates, sergeant.”

Of his victory, he had no question.

12 notes · View notes

berylcups · 1 month

Text

La Squadra Splatoon AU/Crossover Pt 1 of 2

Hey Beryl here! And this is the beginning of my JJBA junk. 🤡 I didn’t proofread it so don’t expect perfection. I thought a good 1st writing prompt would be what would these blood thirsty hitman be like in a children’s shooter game full of squid kids-rules are all weapons specials subs etc… are allowed from splatoon 1-3. None of these kits are balanced, these are just based off what I thought their stands would translate into game wise. Let me know if you’re interested in hearing about the rest of the gang and or having bucci gang done too. I wanna see if this is something people are interested in before I delve deeper into. Please enjoy ~

Risotto:

Ink/Octoling: Inkling

Species type: Hawaiian bobtail squid- the parasites that live in this squids body makes for great camouflage.

Ink color: gunmetal grey

Weapon: Blaster - quick, gets the job done, this leader has his priorities straight.

Sub weapon: ink mines - don’t think you can sneak up on him, he’s 2 -3 steps ahead of his opponents. A mine sets off behind him and he knows to 180 and start blasting.

Special: wave breaker - it’s great for him to find his other stealthy opponents and it’s a great distraction as he blasts whoever is trying to tear down his wave breaker.

Play style: He camps and waits for his enemies to show up, and then BAM! The damage has already been done, and you’re waiting to respawn. He doesn’t worry about painting, that’s what his teammates are for. He’s in it for the kill count. And you bet he has ninja squid as 1 of his abilities. As the leader, he won’t hesitate to help out a teammate in peril. Those are his men and he will fight to the death for them…of course he can just respawn. It’s not like real life getting blown to bits by a meddling drone *gives Nara the stink eye 😒 *

Formaggio:

Ink/Octoling: Octoling

Species type: Atlantic Pygmy Octopus - tiny but full of poison

Ink color: Rust

Weapon: Clash Blaster - a user friendly weapon and can be the user can be underestimated by it. But the cheesyman uses this to his advantage…also to add some salt to the wound that you got splatted with a “noob” weapon

Sub weapon: suction bomb

Special: ultra stamp- what isn’t there to love? He gets to crush his enemies with a massive ass hammer! He loves making his opponents feel small.

Play style: this stinker likes to pretend to be a complete noob. He’ll lure you in with a false sense of security and then start blasting. Or he’ll throw a faux squid party with a teammate or two and then straight up ambush you when you thought you were just there for some light hearted shenanigans. He’s a “nice” guy, so he won’t squid bag you, but he’ll definitely join in when he sees others doing it! It’s just a game don’t take it so seriously! 🤡

Illuso:

Ink/Octoling: Octoling

Species type: Mimic octopus - mimics other species… it’s like looking into a mirror!

Ink color: plum

Weapon: Carbon roller - great at inking , great at ambushing. It has everything he could ever want. Smack you from behind with the roller twice or throw a bomb in there and you’re done for!

Sub weapon: burst bomb

Special: big bubbler - it’s not as secure as the mirror realm but it’s good protection to keep enemy ink out. Unless someone has the balls to go in there and splat him at close range… he may have not of thought this completely through…

Play style: sneak attacker and a well known camper. he has the audacity to camp near your spawn point and kill you over and over again. Also will 100% squid/octobag after every kill because he’s a big jerk. 😒 also has ninja squid equipped. Go utilize the haunt ability to track his octo-ass down and give him a taste of his own medicine!

Prosciutto:

Ink/Octoling: inkling

Species type: vampire squid - despite the name, not really a vampire. But they live the longest amongst the others- roughly 10 years vs 1-2 years.

Ink color: goldenrod

Weapon: squeezer- perfect for splatting and inking for this no nonsense man! He’s going to utilize every bit of his kit.

Sub weapon: toxic mist

Special: ink storm or splatter color screen - you can’t age your opponent’s but you can sure weaken them as much. Damaging them gradually with a storm or disorienting them with losing their sense of color it makes them easier to pick off!

Play style: weaken the enemy at all costs and don’t back down! The weaker the better but he won’t hesitate to fight someone at his level or even higher - his reputation depends on it.

#jjba #splatoon #la squadra #jjba part 5 #splatoon 3 #jjba x reader #risotto nero #illuso #formaggio #prosciutto #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo risotto #jojo prosciutto #jojo illuso #jojo formaggio #jjba x gn!reader #jjba x gn reader #jjba x gender neutral reader

3 notes · View notes

fruit-of-infidelity · 1 year

Text

♱ DIABOLIK LOVERS: Haunted Dark Bridal ー Sakamaki Shuu | Dark 5½ ♱

⌜ Scene: School Courtyard ⌟

ー The school bell chimes. ー

Yui: Aah!

Time for class again, Shuu-san. Let’s get going, so we’re not late… Again.

…Eh?

Shuu-san? Where did you go?

( I could have sworn he was right here, with me. )

( No good… Don’t tell me he disappeared after hearing the bell. )

Pwahh… Is he avoiding me so he doesn’t have to go?

???: That shouldn’t be surprising.

Yui: E-Eh!?

ー Ryuuto suddenly appears by Yui. ー

( This guy! He’s… )

Ryuuto-san, right? That one that approached me at that house…

Ryuuto: The very same.

You seem surprised that we’ve crossed paths again, although I’m pleased to know that you’ve remembered my name, at the very least.

Yui: It’s hard to f-forget someone sneaking up on you like that…

( Something about how he’s looking at me tells me he’s up to no good… )

…Anyway, I think I better be on my way to class.

ー He blocks her path. ー

Ryuuto: I admire your desire to learn, although…

Missing class for but a few minutes won’t hurt; Stay for a little chat, will you? There is oh-so important business for us to touch on, after all.

Yui: What are you talking about?

Ryuuto: You see… I’m here to offer you a second chance.

I’m not too happy with how things between us left off, choosing the eldest Sakamaki – of all people – to care for you. It was foolish.

Yui: W-Well… I made my decision, and that was Shuu-san.

Ryuuto: Why decide upon him, I wonder?

Yui: Why not?

( Something tells me Ryuuto-san wouldn’t have been at all better… )

Ryuuto: Fufu, it should be obvious enough by this point already.

I’ve observed, how you’ve been disregarded by him on multiple occasions. Despite your gold-hearted attempt to do what is best for him.

Don’t you feel used, already?

Firstly, that kiss… and that bath incident. Of course, that’s not to mention his perverted assault upon your ears, with that “music” of his.

Yui: Y-You… know about all that!? How…

Ryuuto: …Fufufu.

Being tossed aside, used as nothing more than lewd entertainment, in such a perilous situation… Surely it is nothing short of difficult, no?

Alas, that happens to be just the sort of person Shuu is. One to disregard any and all responsibility he has, just for his own amusement.

So, why not place your trust into someone far more sensible?

Yui: That’s…

━─┉┈◈ Selection ◈┈┉─━

　　❈ I can handle myself ( ♥ )

Yui: I appreciate your concern, I think, but…

Besides that… weird behaviour of his, I’m sure I can handle myself with Shuu-san. S-So there is no reason to be looking out for me.

Ryuuto: You may have made your bed, but you need not lie in it, Pet.

Yui: Look, I’m confident that I’ll do just fine…!

　　❈ No, thank you

Yui: Do you mean… someone like you?

I think I-I’m fine as is, thank you…

Ryuuto: You don’t seem to say that with much conviction.

Yui: At the end of the day, you’re both Vampires. S-So what sort of difference would it even make, picking you?

You can’t expect me to take this sort of leap blindly…!

━━─┉┈┈◈◉◈┈┈┉─━━

Ryuuto: You can doubt my words all you like, though you’ll soon come to regret it; He’s an irresponsible one, Shuu. Mercilessly irresponsible.

And, I have no doubt that it might just get you killed.

Yui: But… It’s like Shuu-san said, there are those “special orders”. Right?

I’m not allowed to be killed; Why would he go against his own words?

Ryuuto: Would you take that chance?

Yui: ( And trust you instead? )

Ryuuto: You underestimate those people’s savagery, it seems.

ー Ryuuto creeps closer to her. ー

Once they catch scent of Her blood that runs through your veins… Fufu, you’ll be torn limb from limb in their frenzy; They’ve never been good at sharing.

Yui: “Her” blood…?

ー He grasps onto her arm. ー

Ryuuto: …Why not save yourself the grief, and choose me?

Yui: H-Hey…!

( He’s g-got such a tight grasp on my arm, suddenly! )

Ryuuto: Surely you know better than to trust these Sakamaki’s.

Is there not something deep within you that knows you would be safer elsewhere? A feeling… A voice, even, compelling you to say yes?

Yui: Ouch…

Ryuuto: You needn’t even let them know where you’ve run off you; We can head home right away, and you’ll be safe with me.

Yui: R-Ryuuto-san...!

You’re hurting me!!

ー He lets go of her arm. ー

Ryuuto: … …

Yui: Uu…

( I-I didn’t mean to raise my voice like that, but that really hurt! )

ー The second bell chimes, this time. ー

( …! The w-warning bell. )

Ryuuto: …I’m a patient man, but even I have my limits.

I’ll give you some time to reconsider, hm? Just don’t take too long doing so, before it becomes – ultimately – too late for you to be saved, Pet.

Yui: I…

I-I’m sorry, I need to get to class. Excuse me…!

ー Yui quickly runs off. ー

Ryuuto: … …

✥ TO BE CONTINUED ✥

─────── ≪ °♛° ≫ ───────

← [ ✥ Dark 05 ✥ ] ⎥ [ ✥ Dark 06 ✥ ] →

#Diabolik Lovers #dialovers #diabolik lovers oc #haunted dark bridal #haunted dark bridal dark #sakamaki shuu #sakamaki shu #shuu sakamaki #shu sakamaki #sakamaki shuu route #shuu sakamaki route #shuu route #shu route #sakamaki shu route #shu sakamaki route #haunted dark bridal mini chapters #hdbshudark #hdbshuudark

14 notes · View notes