I just wanted to be recognized It’s impossible To exist in A world that Has no place for me ☆bio☆☆rules☆ ((psd colouring by @goblinpsds))
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@skurge
I just wanted to be recognized It’s impossible To exist in A world that Has no place for me ☆bio☆☆rules☆ ((psd colouring by @goblinpsds))

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@mantcdea: 🥁 playfully pat my muse head like a drum. from Sune because this kid's a menace
Sure, the music was cheerful enough as the parade continued throughout New Asgard. Even Skurge couldn't help tapping his toe to the beat. What he didn't expect was his head to become a percussion instrument for one such child who was brave enough to do so.
A lightning-quick fist caught him by the arm.
"Must you? There are plenty of tambourines you could beat on instead."
@mantcdea: 🫂 hug my muse
Scaling a fish with knife in hand, a sudden hug from behind was not what the Executioner had been expecting. Everything in his body tensed up, the grip on the knife tightened, until it dawned on him that nothing bad was happening.
One hand reached up and found a soft antenna above his head, telling him who it was.
"Has anyone ever told you it's a bad idea to hug and armed man?" He held the knife up for her to see, refraining from turning around.
what brand of stupid
Smart until infected with stupid
You think you're safe don't you? You are probably the responsible one in the group, perhaps even the mom friend. You are relatively smart but all it takes is one little thing to suck all your braincells out. It could be hanging around your fellow stupid friends, it could be being left alone, it could be having a bit too much fun. The stupid lives inside you and it just takes the right environment for it to show.
tagged by @divinityrisen
Would you knock up Skurge (Executioner)?
Yes ❤️
No ❌

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Mantis nearly spat out her drink, blinking as though she couldn't believe her eyes. She snorted, silently wheezing as she witnessed Skurge drink from two bottles at once with practiced ease. The amused empath wondered how many times he had done this.
"You're insane," she marveled, speaking between soft giggles and small sips from her bottle. "And a bad influence on me." She downed the rest of her drink and reached for another bottle. "I like it."
She admitted it with the giddy enthusiasm of someone who had never been allowed to misbehave. Mantis felt thrilled, rebellious, alive. Perhaps she would regret it, but for now, she was having fun.
Skurge was inebriated amusement at the empath getting shitfaced. All prim and proper, now she was casting all of that to the wind to do something she'd probably had no experience with.
Which meant he was probably going to have to keep a careful eye on her.
"I wouldn't call it bad," he remarked with a huff after draining the last of the bottles. Most of it had spilled into his beard, but oh well. "Against proper manners, more like. But we Asgardians have none when it comes to celebrations. This..." He gestured to the small collection of drinks they'd already worked on. "This is nothing. Half of this place would be busted up and on fire by now."
Nonverbal rp starters!
I am basing it off of a meme that was already created! I just don't like the sexual part. Its inspired off of this meme!
My muse: person who receiving ask (say "Swap" to swap roles!)
Normal
☝️ tap my muse on the shoulder
👉 Point something out to my muse
🤙 bump into my muse
📓 pass a object to my muse [specify]
🥖 offer food for my muse
🚪 knock on my muse door
🔫 splash water on my muse
🐶 nuzzle my muse [specify where!]
✂️ cut my muse hair
🐈 lean on my muse
🫂 hug my muse
👔 fix/straighten my muses clothes
🌡 give my sick muse soup!
🌲 get lost in the woods with my muse
Angry
🐺 growl at my muse
😬 snarl/show teeth at my muse
🎯 headbutt my muse
👊 punch my muse
🗣 agressively yell at my muse [can specify what is said]
🗯 threaten my muse [can specify what is said]
🫸 push my muse
🔪 point a weapon at muse [can specify]
😡 death glare / glare at my muse
👿 slam my muse on the ground / wall
🐻 claw / bite my muse full force
Angst
👩⚕️ try to treat my muses wounds
😨 try to calm my muse during an overwhelming moment
⛓️ try to physically refrain my muse from doing something dumb / they might regret
😺 hold my muse after they woke up from a nightmare
😭 hold my muse while they are crying
😣 find my my muse that been missing a few days
☠️ find my muse near a dead body
⏰️ wake my muse up from a nightmare
😴 find my muse passed out
Silly
😁 bite my muse
👏 tickle my muse
😱 scare my muse
🤣 prank my muse [specify!]
👅 show my muse a silly face
🥸 wear my muses clothes
🌼 put a flower in my muses hair
🃏 play a game with my muse [specify!]
👃boop my muse nose
🤝 scoop my muse up
🫳 tug my muses clothes / hair
👻 hide from my muse
🥁 playfully pat my muse head like a drum
On anon, or not, send ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) if your muse has checked mine out
Mantis had always been forced to be the bigger person. Even as a little girl, she had taken care of both herself and her father. A part of her wanted to have fun like everyone else, wanted to step down from that caretaker role. Wanted to drink, be reckless, play stupid games.
She picked out the strongest booze she could find and, without thinking, Mantis drank directly from the bottle.
"Then suit yourself," she said. "Let's see which one of us collapses first."
A drunken grin curled across Skurge's face as he watched her down some of the bottle. For someone her size, he was impressed. But he'd learned early on not to take her appearance for granted, that she was much stronger than people believed her to be.
Though that remained to be seen.
"A challenge, then! Finally, something I'm good at." He thought of taking the bottle from her and having a sip himself, but thought better of it. Instead, he grabbed two bottles of vodka, flicked the caps off, and started downing them both at the same time.

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Knowing him I'd be surprised the doors were closed.
Loki did not voice the thought. He did not want Skurge turning into a loose cannon, or to have that encourage himself to become one. Keeping a casual expression, he slipped one hand around to settle on Skurge's waist, using the move as a way to look like he was 'playing the game' whilst subtly deterring any more bottom pinching so he could talk with less interruption.
"With luck, he's content just knowing he has us. If we lie low, he should grow bored and look at something else, satisfied we've become part of the background. Believe you me I am far from fond of downplaying myself, but patience can pay off. If by some sick happenstance, he has such designs, I will handle it."
Skurge almost let out another squeak when Loki's arm found his waist and drew him closer. A bittersweet way of avoiding all the grabby hands at the cost of being this undressed and this close to the Trickster. At any moment, he hoped he would open his eyes and all of this would turn out to be just some nightmare.
"Luck has never been my strong suit, Loki." His head turned slowly to take in the prince almost draped around his person. "... but you are. Can you not simply... trickster us out of this situation?" He'd heard tales of the Grandmaster but had never seen any of his talents for himself, so he couldn't be sure which were true and which were merely rumours.
"Unless this is your demented way of embarrassing me further for my failures..."
Carol could have heard a pin drop. A second ticked by, then another, and another.
“Very well,” the guard said after a moment. “We have no quarrel with Asgard. You may take him.”
Carol managed not to look too relieved, “thank you—”
“If the Grandmaster permits it.”
“The…” Carol hesitated, “Grandmaster…”
The guard nodded once more. “Sakaar is his planet. Your prisoner will be held while you negotiate his return to Asgard.”
While Carol suspected things would not go according to plan, this turn of events was not something she’d seen coming. She knew almost nothing about the Grandmaster. He ruled a chaotic, garbage heap planet.
“Follow me,” the guard instructed, as two of his men hoisted the unconscious man up and carried him away.
"If the Grandmaster permits it."
Skurge almost surged forward, ready to pummel the guard into the ground and simply leave with their prisoner, but he remembered her one word: subtle. Doing that would bring more attention than they already had, and that would make it much more difficult for them to get away.
He waited until they stepped in line behind the guard before he finally chose to speak.
"What's that Midgard saying? 'We're fucked'? He's going to ask for something neither of us would have any interest in paying. You, he might want to add to his rotation of gladiators. Me? Heh, well, I have enough experience as a janitor, don't I?"
The walk was long and painful, not because of the distance, but because of the glaring gaudiness that grew in concentration the closer they got to the Grandmaster's chambers. Perfume and cologne lingered in the air, and Skurge was sure he heard the giggles of a few women echoing from the inner sanctum.
"We are so fucked..."
It was a matter of principle that Loki carried on going a little longer in the wrong direction so that he could at least feel like he was taking the piss before he drew back alongside Skurge and slowed to a more sensible pace. Especially because he was starting to feel like the drink was going to bounce out of his stomach at this rate or that he might forget whether he was god or horse. Ugh, he was so tempted to leap off and transform. He wanted to feel the rush of his own speed.
"Okay, okay. Hey, what if I made the whole town think they were upside down? I wish I could've done that in the palace. Imagine Thor's face."
Skurge would have said nothing if he'd noticed the altered pallor of Loki's face; the prince could take care of himself and didn't need some babysitter to hold his hair back if he needed to throw up.
Of course, with all this up-and-down of horseback, he was starting to feel a little "off" himself.
"Let us stick to the locusts for now, yes? And see where it goes from there." He tugged on the reins slightly to let Loki take the lead, now that they were heading in the right direction, and muttered a prayer under his breath, as well as an apology to King Valkyrie should they return with all their parts still intact.
It was painfully apparent that the Asgardians would lose by sheer numbers. Had it not been for their timely appearance, the mimics would have overwhelmed Volstagg and his contingent. Now, they had precious minutes. Time was an enemy not even Sif could conquer.
The enemy knew they had to protect the sword. Sif and Volstagg heard Skurge’s shout, but the doppelgangers had moved to block them. They twisted and morphed, some becoming the berserker who was being assaulted by Heimdall, others copied Sif, and Volstagg…. but the bulk that Sif stared down morphed into Asgard’s guardian.
Eight shadow Heimdalls towered above her, great swords in hand.
Now would have been a brilliant moment for Thor to grace them.
“We must get to the sword,” Sif instructed Volstagg.
“And your companion?” Volstagg asked, hefting his battleaxe.
Sif kept her eyes on the encroaching dopplegangers. “The sword must be our priority.”
Her friend nodded grimly, “for Asgard.”
The duo charged, Volstagg running in ahead and knocking two down as Sif ran up behind and leapt off his shoulder. She cleaved the head off of one who tried to grapple her, and got behind another to drive her sword through. As she pulled her blade free, she hurried for the watchman’s sword lodged in the magical seal.
Sif’s fingers coiled around the sword’s hilt and immediately felt the horrid, alien energy bite and cut against her flesh. It was a sheer cold that burned as it inched its way up her arms. The sword itself fought against her strength, refusing to budge, and the harder she pulled the more vile energy cascaded through the room.
Then, the blade shifted. It began to slide out, bolts of darkness flying out and running across the dome of the chamber, scarring the bronze façade.
A deathly cold hand grabbed Sif by her shoulder and tossed her backwards. She flew across the room, crashing nto Skurge and the infested Heimdall, sending all three to the floor. Sif grunted and rolled back onto her feet.
The sword was almost free, the doppleganger that’d thrown her hadn’t noticed its position. The shadow-copy of Heimdall marched towards her menacingly. She glanced at Skurge who was recovering next to her.
“The sword is almost free,” she hissed through sharp breath, she twirled her own sword and it extended into a twinblade. Heimdall, still under some sort of influence, was rising up to meet them. “Get to it. I will handle these two.”
Skurge licked the blood from his lip and spat it onto the ground, not caring how much it might defile this "sanctum" of travel. There were worse atrocities he could commit right now in here, and he was pretty sure no one would care, with the reflections littering the place and commanding everyone's attention.
He cocked his fist back and pummeled Heimdall right in the nose, hoping to spill some of his own blood out of spite. If they came out of this alive, he might apologize to him later. But he was pretty sure he was the last person Heimdall wanted to see or speak to.
Their exchange of blows was interrupted by a new "distraction" as Sif collided with the pair, sending the three sprawling to the ground. If he'd known, he might have braced himself and spared her tumble to the ground. But now they were forced to waste precious seconds getting back to their feet while their enemies slowly gained ground.
"The sword is almost free."
Skurge's eyes darted to the weapon keeping the gate open, his mouth twisting to one side in premature victory. So she'd managed to work it out part of the way. It would take nothing to free it now, would it?
"Aye aye. Try not to die," he whispered in passing as he vaulted himself towards the "key" to this whole mess. With the real Heimdall no longer being his target, he retrieved his axe from his back and lobbed it at the nearest doppelganger, the bladed edge sinking into its chest. The others had dispersed, not wanting to be a target, which gave him the opening he needed to wrap his fists around the sword's grip and continue its emancipation from its housing.
Patience was a difficult virtue when your coal-crushed soul had not gone far enough yet to become diamond. The fear Loki had sought to obliterate with power still lurked around every corner, ready to snatch away what little remained his own. He wanted to listen, to be wise enough to consider advice, but even a mind as strong as his had a tendency to darken when Stones combined with emotion.
Loki walked up to the railing and looked upon his world, his home, now bereft of his mother, and seemingly his father. Anyone who could ask him what had become of Odin either had not dared or was too in thrall to consider it.
"Some may fear me," he conceded, "but that is the current price for not being connected to me through the Stones. Those of our people I have claimed, they are not truly my slaves. They share my will. They understand me. If I ask them to tell me what they need, they will do so. Much of it will be biased toward me, yes, but this mask you speak of cannot be lifted until we are less vulnerable. You have no idea what our enemies are capable of and I do not have time to entrust the safety of Asgard to anyone else."
"Why not subjugate everyone then? Why leave me as one of your free spirits? Surely, you don't actually consider me valuable." Skurge had very little in what he could offer, other than the axe he wielded. But if all Loki needed was an executioner, a threat to keep everyone else in line, that could be done with a simple lackey under his control.
"You're right. I do not. And you think it better to keep all of Asgard in the dark about it than to share so that we can all prepare, together?" All of this thinking and suggesting and idea was starting to make Skurge's head hurt. A good thing he was better with head-lopping than being an idea-man.
"... once we are safe, do you intend on returning Asgard to her people... or is this the fate I can expect to wake up to every morning?"

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Still trying to look somewhat dignified while he shovelled in food, Loki seemed to swell a touch with the unintentional compliment. Focusing on the present had been the only thing keeping him going for so long, he wasn't certain how to stop, or if he even wanted to.
At the next question, Loki ensured his mouth wasn't full for his answer. He knew very well he shouldn't infer an invitation, but he was going to press his luck.
"You've always been very hospitable, Skurge, thank you."
Skurge was half-surprised, half-annoyed that Loki would suggest he stay here of all places. This wasn't exactly a clean place that smelled like perfume and wine. It stunk of fish, iron, and coal. At the same time... it would be nice to have some company around for a change. Even if it was with someone like Loki.
"Tub's that way, if you need to clean up. Bed's more than big enough. And I wake up at five, so..." Skurge shrugged nonchalantly; he wasn't going to change his schedule just because an ex-prince was around. Fish needed to be caught, people had to be fed.
"As for clothes... I have nary a thing that would fit you, unfortunately."
Mantis was slowly becoming truly, deeply concerned. Her brow furrowed when Skurge's finger jabbed at her face, but she resisted the urge to swat his hand away. A deep breath was taken, as if she were dealing with a child, and her arms crossed over her chest.
"I merely encouraged you a little. Only a little! Do you not have a spine? Are you unable to say no?" Mantis clicked her tongue. "What are you trying to prove, Skurge?"
"When it comes to drink or pretty women? Absolutely not." Skurge was pretty much hanging off the edge now, the only thing stopping him from collapsing back to the ground in a heap.
"Prove? Nothing. There is no need for proof if one is having fun, is there? ... do you think I'm trying to prove something?"