#magiteks

ohh my god. the ‘i can fix him’ trope. wish it’d die in a ditch somewhere.

yes or the ‘i can’t live without you’ one. i mean that one can be good, but people like to completely BUTCHER the fuck out of it by making one of the characters clingy as fuck and makes it feel like they’ll DIE if they are apart more than 5 minutes. yes, this killer TOTALLY can’t live without u, can’t do anything without u.... fuck off lmao

god i HATE the people who uwu the fuck out of horror movie slasher villains the most tho… like sorry i don’t think your drawing of leatherface as a chibi with a flower crown is cute.

LMAO i blame the dead by daylight fandom for that. woobifying any character is annoying, but especially for villains that are super well written and complex. they just need to take their uwus and shove them up their butt. i LOVE the people who are like ‘BUT I WOULD BE THE EXCEPTION’ ... like bitch no u wouldn’t be

lol remember when people did this with the devil and king dice like .. constantly?

god yeah, i just.... i don’t get it lmao purity culture is so stupid. But this fucking website has people who give their uwus to actual serial killers so .... of course people will do it to fictional ones too. I guess it’s easier to twist fictional ones into something they’re not for their own satisfaction.

ooooh i was thinking for ZRX and Bubbles like... amoured axemen or swordsman. maybe assassin

And more Zegnautus horror, this time with Noctis and some magiteks! Both things I just wanted to write for myself, because I am a terrible person. 

under a readmore for horror/angst

More magitek stuff! This time a request from @thoseweirdthings who wanted something written from a magitek perspective.

I had a lot of fun I hope it's still... understandable by someone who isn't in my head

vaguely horrific? idk

They had never quite left the water. The memory of the tube was their only real memory.

A constant bubbling sound inside the head; and everything else sounded wrong, distorted by the metal. Rusty voices giving abrupt orders. Swords against swords against chainmail. And sometimes screams that made a nonexistent skin crawl.

No skin; no touch. The armour felt like an extension of… what? There was no sensation of an outside. Only the cold grip of the armour, no escape, no escape, the gnawing of a beast in what must be a belly? No one gives a machine a word for the acidic leak in its core when the danger is too high and the legs want to turn back.

Error log: risk of imminent destruction, flight recommended. Flight is forbidden by administrator. Solution?

Do not turn back. Move forward until cannot move at all. Execute the order.

The armour smells hot when it burns and cold when it freezes and there is something else, something sick and wrong, something unknown but carrying the absolute knowledge that it should not be in close proximity of a living being.

But is it alive?

Am I alive?

What is I?

There is the urgency of hunger, but not hunger. Something inside the armor remembers that it needs to eat, but the armor does not allow feeding, and it does not matter. Days pass without a change. The legs move forward. The order can be executed.

Alive?

And there is the world around. The eyes can see it, but it does not look... right? Does not look at all. No need. The comrades emit a signal that is like a feeling, like a warmth or a shiver; the only sound with the bubbling sound that does not come out as metallic. Brothers of the tube can talk to each other.

The enemy also emits a signal. It does not know of the traitor in its ranks, the comrade with skin and ears, who can eat and smell living things, but still has the terrible beast inside him, the leaking in his flesh that makes him want to flee and yet he stays. He looks like he has been built in reverse. Somewhere, inside the organic matter, there is still the primordial instinct, so deeply ingrained, to follow and execute the order. The promise of pushing through hell.