knifechased

[knifechased]

     [ Robin ]

     ❝ this soil appears rich in organic matter. it would likely decompose a body rather quickly. ❞ the archaeologist kneels, back turned, to swipe away at some leaf litter covering the dark earth below. after a moment or two, she stands again and turns back to face the man, a hand outstretched and holding a debris covered and ugly looking ( but highly valued ) fungus as an offering.   ❝ there are certain mushrooms that appear on carcasses as well. ❞ 

          【 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐒𝐊. 】                     @cptnslog 【 Robin. 】     

    Both hands come together to carefully cradle the item she's presenting to him, automatically accepting it before he's even identified what it is. At a glance, he almost mistook it for a compressed piece of the very soil she was describing only moments prior. He rolls it within his palms and inspects it more meticulously, before the realization of what he's actually holding abruptly dawns on him.

     ❝ ...Oh!      It's a truffle! ❞

Now understanding the significance of the gift, he mindfully brushes off a few clumps of dirt from its body, and analyzes its quality under the stray dapples of filtering in through the trees.

     ❝ This is a good find!      Are there any more? ❞

The moment he's asked, he's leaning closer to where she first scavenged the fungus. There's an authentic intrigue in his tone; conspicuous unabashed eagerness. Whilst the truffle remains carefully protected in his a curved hand, he squats down to the ground to take a look for himself. If she had been implying signs of a decaying carcass in this area, he seems entirely unconcerned about the suggestion.

     ❝ These are rare, so we should take all of them if there's others. I can make risotto. ❞

The scarcity of this particular type of fungus isn't something she should need to be reminded of, though perhaps the notion of freshly prepared truffle risotto will inspire a surge of motivation to help him find more.

The energy in him has abruptly changed; now more evidently enthusiastic with the prospect of gathering the rare ingredient.      Internally, without any intention to ask her this out loud, he wonders if this exchange is not dissimilar to when someone picks fresh flowers for a pretty girl.           He seems rather pleased with his gift.

#cptnslog #cptnslog : Robin #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — CUTTING THEM ALL DOWN TO SIZE.┊❛ asks ❜ ❫ #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — IT DID NOT WEEP ; IT SAW.┊❛ ic ❜ ❫ #// LALA THIS WAS SO CUTE #// THEY'RE FORAGING TOGETHER #// bless. adorable. #// move over sanji. #// this ask made me smile very much thank u

[knifechased]

hc + cats :))))

          【 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐂 + 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃. 】                     @medicus-felini     

     Killer is the kind of person to bond with individuals animals independently rather than having a specific species of animal he immediately connects with. When it comes to any cute and fluffy animal, he tends to be fairly unaffected by them until he has spent enough time with them to form some kind of a lasting connection with them.

There were plenty of stray cats on his home island, but caring for any animal would have been unfair due to the circumstances of his living situation. He was also against the idea of owning an animal as he suspected his enemies would likely target it as a vendetta against him.

Killer can be slightly awkward around animals. He doesn't always seem to know how to interact with them — he tends to look a bit stiff if he attempts to pet them, or he just doesn't touch them much at all. Many animals naturally don't like him due to his mask making them feel nervous, and if that's the case, he won't go out of his way to reassure them or change their mind about him; he'll probably just ignore them.

Due to spending most of his life around Crusher, Killer has a better understanding of canine body language and behavior over feline body language and behavior. This sometimes means he doesn't always know how to read cats, or he tries to apply canine logic to them and is confused when they don't react in the manner he expects. He's fairly ignorant when it comes to what cats are thinking. This can also sometimes be true for Linn as a mink, where she exhibits some common cat body language and he will sometimes be quietly confused by it.

Killer doesn't really get cute things in general. While most people universally experience a huge surge of oxytocin when they see something cute, Killer doesn't really feel this effect very strongly. He likes certain animals because of their natures or actions, but he wouldn't say he likes animals solely because they're generically adorable.

#medicus-felini #medicus felini #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — THE MAN WHO SOLD THE WORLD.┊❛ headcanons ❜ ❫ #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — CUTTING THEM ALL DOWN TO SIZE.┊❛ asks ❜ ❫ #// killer's life will be significantly better when he learns to pet a cat when he's stressed. #// he's a stupid fuck. #// but also linn's tail moving when she's angry and he's like ???? are you happy? #// i like that icon because i see it and just imagine linn on his lap looking up at him

[knifechased]

hc + DOCTORS :)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

          【 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐂 + 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃. 】                     @medicus-felini     

     The island Killer was born and raised on bore an extremely high criminal population. Refuge, an island shrouded in misinformation and hidden under the blanket of heavy perpetual storms, was officially unnamed and without government protection. For this reason, it became the topic of rumors spoken in hushed tones in bars from surrounding islands throughout the South Blue. Supposedly, it was a lawless land where criminals could escape the watchful eyes of the World Government and escape the immediate threat of being hunted by the marines. It was said to be a criminal haven; a land so free and prosperous, that no man who sailed to her docks would ever wish to leave.      In reality, very little of this was actually true. Though Refuge was indeed a lawless land and was void of government intervention, it was far from the awe-inspiring and magnificent isle that it was believed to be. It was a desolate island, and those who were unlucky enough to survive being shipwrecked on her shores would find themselves trapped by the carnivorous Sea Kings and tumultuous storms. There was inadequate food to sustain a fraction of the total population, and only those able to trample on anyone weaker than themselves would be able to survive. Refuge was built from scraps and debris; there was no room for benevolence nor generosity when your best chance of success was to take it away from another.

     For these reasons, medical practices on Refuge were few and hard to come by. True professionals in the field were rare, and were often snatched up by independent gang members, kidnapped, and forced to work only for them. Alternatively, many doctors would charge so highly for their time that very few would ever be able to afford to see one. Even so, there was little in terms of modern medicine available on the island to begin with. Most remedies came either from the herbs harvest in Kimor Forest, or were imported at extortionate prices by Lochlan; something only the extremely wealthy could afford. A diagnosis was only helpful to a certain extent, as treatment would not always be available nor attainable for the majority of people. If someone was badly sick already, it was likely they would be too weak to search for the remedy they would need for their ailment anyway.           People began to invade Kimor in search of herbs, which lead to bloodied fights for territory and resources. In the end, this lead to Kimor Forest becoming a restricted area, guarded by the district leaders in order to protect what limited vegetation was able to grow on the island, lest it not be harvested to extinction.

There were many charlatans on the island — people who would lie about their status as a doctor, and sell snake oil to cure serious medical conditions. As a consequence, there was a particular attitude most people of the island felt towards doctors. Generally, they were assumed to either be con artists, or rich bastards who would swindle you of every last possession you owned in order to diagnosis you with a condition that could not be treated.

Being seen by a doctor was either considered a true luxury, or an act of optimistic ignorance. It was something only the truly desperate would seek. If you were sick enough to request their aid, your fate was probably already sealed.

Most people learned how to treat their own injuries and sicknesses, or they simply died from them. The people of Refuge were self sufficient in that regard, attaining just enough medical knowledge to survive each day, or ending up as another body littering the streets.

Killer was no exception to this mentality in his youth. It was how he was raised, and all he had ever known. The concept of there being a world outside of Refuge where doctors would want to aid others solely due to the goodness of their hearts was a fairytale to him. Like many, he simply could not afford to be seen by one even if he wanted to, and he learned the same bitter resentment towards those who were able to help him, but refused to do so without first receiving payment.

After Killer became the district leader of Barlea at age thirteen, he eventually gained access to being seen by Lochlan's personal doctor, yet he was still reluctant to do so. There was a feeling of being exposed that he did not care for. Lochlan would surely be told of any condition he had developed, and Killer did not feel safe having his weaknesses or injuries being known. It felt dangerous; he didn't doubt that this information would later be used against him, so he learned to hide any sickness or injury he could until he recovered on his own.

When Killer eventually left the island and began sailing the seas under the Kid Pirate flag, it still took a while for him to learn to trust fully trust doctors. He would continue to hide his injuries even after they appointed their first doctor, though admittedly, House was a doctor in name only, and his own medical knowledge was no better than anyone else on that ship at the time.

The crew was very aware that they could not enter the New World without a certified doctor. When Linn was finally appointed to take on the role, Killer considered her expertise to be more for the benefit of his nakama, rather than something he should need for himself. He respected her intelligence and her training, but he had trouble shaking off the feeling that she was not going to find a way to blackmail him, as all the previous doctors he had ever known would be inclined to do.

He did learn to trust her, admittedly much more easily than Kid. He now attends check ups with only minor resistance, which mainly stems from him not really enjoying how long they take. When he is sick or injured, he will make an appointment with her when he feels it is necessary, but it's still in his personality to try and tough most things out whenever he can.

#medicus-felini #medicus felini #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — CUTTING THEM ALL DOWN TO SIZE.┊❛ asks ❜ ❫ #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — THE MAN WHO SOLD THE WORLD.┊❛ headcanons ❜ ❫ #ask to tag #// thank u fungy this was a really fun one to answer!!! #// got to talk about killer's backstory a lot. #// i enjoyed writing all of this. #// now you guys know why he's Like That. #// it's the trauma.

[knifechased]

⠀

ㅤ▄▀▄▀▄▀ミ★ 𝘉𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘊𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘯 ★彡▀▄▀▄▀▄

also know as;

First of his name, Future Pirate King, Protector of Prisoners, Breaker of Chains, Leader of Yonkou, The flashiest of them all, Shanks's Landlord, The Legendary Pirate, The Great Pirate Buggy The Clown, Gol D. Roger's Crewmate, President of Cross Guild, Dracule Mihawk & Sir Crocodile's Chief, Mink's Saint Rescuer, World Peace Ambassador, Mr 3's only and one captain, Ikkaku's worst nightmare, Kid Pirates number 1º sponsor and much more! *

*ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵃᵈᵛᶦˢᵒʳʸ: ᴺᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᶦᵗˡᵉˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵛᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᶜʰᵃᶦʳᵐᵃⁿ ᴮᵘᵍᵍʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉᵃʳ ⁿᵒ ʳᵉˢᵉᵐᵇˡᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃˡ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵒʳ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ.

———————————————————————————

anime/manga & headcannon based, low activity Buggy from eiichiro oda's one piece, 20+, side blog ⁽ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʷᵃˣᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉᵐᵃⁿ⁾ please be wary of triggering content.

ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMuse . Rules . Rp Memes

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭/𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰.

#❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — KILLING FOR COMPANY.┊❛ promo ❜ ❫ #// PUTS THIS ON ALL MY BLOGS #// BUGGY BUGGY BUGGY BUGGY #// CLOWN #// namae you made this promo so pretty!!!! #// i'm so down to clown

[knifechased]

hc + anal [I know you didn't rb'd it yet but I have a fly brain and am scared I forget if :)]

          【 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐂 + 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃. 】                     @medicus-felini     

     Killer is capable of experiencing attraction towards people of any gender, and he isn't exactly shy when it comes to the different ways he can sleep with his partners. Regarding anal sex, he'll try it with any partner who's interested in doing it with him. Whether it be penetrative, with fingers, toys, or tongues, he's generally down for whatever form of anal they're comfortable with. It's a topic he'll probably bring up himself, rather than waiting for his partner to mention it. Though anal isn't something he necesarily needs in order to feel sexually satisfied in a relationship, he is actively attracted to the idea of it, and it's something he would want to do fairly regularly if his partner gave him that choice. He can be fairly forward about wanting it, and if he knows his partner is into it, he'll always make it pretty obvious when he's in the mood.

Killer prefers to take a more dominant role in the bedroom and is usually the one topping his partners. He isn't against receiving penetration himself, but it's not likely to happen on an especially frequent basis. This is true of all forms of penetrative sex including pegging, and remains true regardless of his partner's gender. He is more likely to give head than to be rimmed himself, and he is more likely to finger his partner than to allow them to do it to him, but that's not to say it won't happen.

Giving his partner oral is just as much for him as much as it is for them. Assuming he's not in a bad mood with them or they aren't deliberately irritating him, he's probably going to be pretty down to eat ass.

#medicus-felini #medicus felini #tw nsfw #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — I COULD DRINK YOUR SEVEN SEAS.┊❛ nsfw ❜ ❫ #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — CUTTING THEM ALL DOWN TO SIZE.┊❛ asks ❜ ❫ #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — THE MAN WHO SOLD THE WORLD.┊❛ headcanons ❜ ❫ #// there you go. i did it. i made you wait long enough for this. #// god it was so tempting just to write “yeah.” and nothing else under the read more lmao #// like. what else is there to say. #// yes he does anal. yes he's okay with pegging. yes he eats ass. #// killer needs his vitamin A.

[knifechased]

hc + dysmorphia

          【 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐂 + 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃. 】                     @snowdrcp

     Potentially triggering content below the read more. Tw for child abuse, human trafficking, dysmorphia, and self injury.

          There were numerous simultaneously occurring factors that contributed towards Killer eventually coming to develop facial dysmorphia. It was the combination of all these circumstances, rather than there being one single sole cause, or a single event which triggered his first instance of experiencing it.

     Killer has spent his entire life attempting to conceal his identity as a three-eye-tribe member for his own safety.      After his mother was first discovered by slave traders, she began sailing the ocean in an attempt of escape — this was how she came to become shipwrecked on Killer's home island in the first place. When he was three-years-old, her identity was discovered and they were separated; she was captured and sold at the Human Auction House at Sabaody Archipelago, and he has not seen her since. Killer was then handed to his self-acclaimed "foster father", who intended to raise him to also be an obedient slave and seal him to a fate similar as his mother once he was older, and able to sold for a higher price.

Killer was severely punished for disobedience, and was beaten for any behavior deemed unacceptable by his callous caregiver. This included displaying too much emotion, as it would be unsightly for a slave to be caught smiling, laughing, or crying. Killer would be physically abused if he was caught performing any of these actions, as well as being verbally mocked for them. He was degraded for the sight of his smile and the sound of his laugh even when it wasn't currently present, just to further discourage him from doing either in the future.

When he was thirteen, Killer killed his caregiver. It was around this time that he could recall the earliest instances of struggling to perceive his own face.      From then on, he was subjected into working for the single most powerful gang leader on the island — a ruthless man who ordered Killer to be his pawn, and to commit crimes he was not proud to be involved in. However, he had little choice in the matter. His freedom and escape were dependent on earning that man's trust, and doing as he was instructed was the only way he would have any hope of leaving that hellscape island.

The fear of being discovered for his third eye lead him to want to hide his face. The dread of having his emotions perceived lead him to want to hide his face. The mental turmoil of having taken a life when he was still only child lead him to want to hide his face. The shame of having to work under heartless man and act as if he were loyal to him without once grimacing at the things he said made him want to hide his face.

          The sensation only grew worse with time. Even after leaving his home island and putting that life behind him, the anxiety he felt did not cease.

Killer's facial dysmorphia is not due to a concern of being perceived as unattractive. He is not worried about being seen as ugly, nor does he particularly care about wanting to be handsome.      For Killer, his facial dysmorphia manifests in his inability to recognize that his face is actually his own. There is a disconnect between what he sees in the mirror, and what his brain is able to perceive as being his body. He cannot look at himself and register that he is looking at his own face. It is as if he has skinned someone else's face and now wears it; it feels incorrect, and somehow very distressing to look at. He feels inhuman, like he is only wearing the disguise of a person.

Having his face seen by other people is equally uncomfortable for Killer. Because he cannot perceive his own face, he also cannot imagine what other people are seeing when they look at him. This causes him to feel extremely out of control, as he has no concept of what he is or what he looks like to others.

When Killer is unable to wear his mask for extended periods of time, he cannot stop fixating on how his face feels. His skin is too tight, like it does not fit. This will incite him to keep repeatedly touching his face, and he will sometimes begin obsessively itching and scratching it to try and self sooth.

Very few members of his crew have seen him without his mask. Naturally, this includes Kid, Heat, and Wire. Many of the more recently recruited members have never seen him without it.

Killer's dysmorphia is limited only to his face, and the feeling does not extend to the rest of his body.

#tw dysmorphia #tw facial dysmorphia #tw child abuse #tw human trafficking #tw slavery #tw implied self harm #tw self harm #tw sh #ask to tag #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — CUTTING THEM ALL DOWN TO SIZE.┊❛ asks ❜ ❫ #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — THE MAN WHO SOLD THE WORLD.┊❛ headcanons ❜ ❫ #snowdrcp #carrd posts

[knifechased]

[hands]: are they large or small, do they have pianist's fingers or short stubby ones, do they tend to get sweaty or are they always dry, is the skin rough or delicate, are the nails painted or chewed or sharp, etc

          【 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄'𝐒 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒. 】                     @chatcambrioleur @medicus-felini @ikkaku-of-heart @cptnslog

          Due to how regularly he has a firm grasp on his Punishers, as well as being an inevitable side effect of the manual labor associated with working on a ship, Killer's palms are usually calloused. He often wears leather gloves, primarily for the added grip strength, but also partially to mitigate this consequence — though that isn't enough to eliminate the effect entirely.

His hands are distinctly broad and square, strong. His fingers are thick; neither notably long and slender, nor particularly short. The bones are prominent under his skin, and his veins are clearly defined.

Just occasionally, his hands do become clammy — particularly when he is wearing his gloves for extended periods of time. Due to how infrequently he touches other people, it's not something anyone would ever really know about.

Despite Killer receiving burn trauma scars across almost all of his left arm, this injury does not extent to the majority of his hand, and instead begins to fade around his wrist, with very little skin being marred on the back of his hand itself.

Killer's arms are naturally incredibly hairy; however, due to the damage inflicted upon his left arm, this is mostly only still noticeable on his right arm, with his left arm now bearing just a thin coating of nearly invisible hairs over his burns. This hairline extends well past his wrists, causing the back of his right hand to be conspicuously covered in blond hair, and his left hand to bear the aforementioned delicate hairs.

His nails are usually cut down as far as possible, and he very rarely bothers to paint them. Having longer nails as well as having paint on them would inconvenience him during cooking, so it isn't something he bothers with unless it's a particularly special event.

As a habit, Killer will instinctively tighten his grip around his Punishers when he's stressed. This instinctual behavior is still present even when his weapons aren't on his person, and he naturally makes a tight fist when he's angry or irritable.

#chatcambrioleur #medicus-felini #medicus felini #ikkaku-of-heart #ikkaku of heart #cptnslog #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — CUTTING THEM ALL DOWN TO SIZE.┊❛ asks ❜ ❫ #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — THE MAN WHO SOLD THE WORLD.┊❛ headcanons ❜ ❫ #// everyone is all about them hands!!! #// i hope it's okay that i put all of these into one post. #// i would normally try to split these up so everyone gets their own individual hc #// but it made more sense to make one longer post for this one. #// also i don't have any icons of just his hands??? that was the closest i can find sorry;;;; #// thank you to everyone for sending!

[knifechased]

— Jayson Greene, Once More We Saw Stars: A Memoir

#❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — SCYTHE'S EDGE.┊❛ reblogs ❜ ❫

[knifechased]

send me  ‘ hc ‘  + a word and i’ll write a headcanon about it regarding my character.

#❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — I DON'T LOSE MY COMPOSURE IN A HIGH SPEED CHASE.┊❛ memes ❜ ❫ #// will put this here for people to send in while i'm getting ready to post. #// sorry if my replies are delayed!

[knifechased]

send me a word! || learn all about my muse's physical features!

#❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — I DON'T LOSE MY COMPOSURE IN A HIGH SPEED CHASE.┊❛ memes ❜ ❫ #// saving this for later. #// wraps this meme up and pops it in the fridge.

[knifechased]

🗡|| 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃 ; independent / private / selective KILLER from eiichiro oda's ONE PIECE. mutuals only & no minors below the age of twenty-one allowed. content warning for mature themes. read rules & bio before interacting. ⅰ. written by WOODLAND ( he / him ). ⅱ. carrd. blogroll: @ferromagnetiic, @beithirs **Please note that carrd is temporarily unfinished — the history portion has not yet been added, and the portrayal notes are lacking context/explanation. Thank you for your patience!

#❪ pinned. ❫

[knifechased]

          Would you be so kind as to remove your mask? A straightforward request; it's the very purpose of him making this appointment in the first place, after all. It's inescapable, and every passing second of him hesitating from complying is only exposing himself to further anxious anticipation. He's stalling, as if that will make ripping off the Band-Aid any easier. This is the only option he has, and it is a minor task, and yet he feels a bottomless pit opening inside his stomach, into which his heart seems to fall straight through. There's sickness at the back of his throat, and his skin is somehow icily chilled and prickled, yet simultaneously overly warm, sweaty in a way that feels slimy like rotten meat. It all feels wrong — terribly wrong, bordering into grotesque.

When it first became apparent that medical intervention was not up for debate, Killer began hypothesizing ways Linn may be able to tend to his injury without needing to see the entirety of his face. A dark room with a bright light shining directly into his eye, perhaps? Or some kind of paper sheet with a hole cut into it that he could slip over his head. These ideas seemed perfectly sound at the time and offered him some sense of fleeting reassurance, and yet now, when it comes to actually suggesting them, he feels foolish to bring up anything of the sort. Tongue wets his dry lips; he's dehydrated; apprehension kept him from a single sip of water since he woke up. He traces the shape of his concealed smile behind the safety of his mask. Numerous hours of continuous grinning have turned his jaw entirely numb, but even if there had been a remaining sting, the burning in his third eye would have distracted him from it anyway.

          Get it over and done with.

When both his hands reach for the bottom edge of his mask, he's already laughing. A wheezing sort of laugh; drained, hollow. Over time, the number of severe laughing episodes has admittedly decreased, but abrupt surges in adrenaline as well as a quickened heartrate remain to be his biggest culprits for the attacks. Endeavoring to remain silent during periods of heightened stress was practically futile. He wouldn't apologize for it, nor would he excuse it; it would only worsen the sensation if attention was drawn to it.

The helmet begins to lift upwards, and his laughter tumbles free. The movement is reluctant, but he's forcing himself to proceed until his face is fully exposed to her. Wordlessly, he assures himself again and again that she is a doctor, she is supposed to help him, but the only sound his mauve-painted lips produce is his symphony of strained howling.

It's not uncommon for him to end up having laughing attacks so extreme, he ends up vomiting from the severity of the tightening ache in his abdomen. He wonders if that will happen this time. He would rather it didn't; it would likely distress Linn to see him in that state, even if she was trained to handle similar situations. Even so, if it comes to that, he feels as though there will be little he can do to prevent it. When that much of his composure has been lost, regaining it becomes an arduous task. There is a disconnect between his logical thinking, and the sensations his body is experiencing.

Thundering heartbeat, the taste of fear at the back of his throat, and yet all he is doing is sitting in a chair in a cozy little office space with a trustworthy doctor. No matter how much he doesn't want to, he will force himself to see it through.

The striped metal mask is completely removed from his head, and carefully placed in his lap.

Killer is looking down at first, as if the shadows from the overhead lighting will do anything to veil his features. They don't. It's a well lit room; he avoids her gaze only in a bid to grasp for any form of comfort.

Sharp cheek bones. An angled jawline. A straight, defined nose. Prickles of newly acquired golden stubble bristling over the lower half of his face, though he shaved all but his chin just a day before. Scars. Scars upon scars, littering his face in neat little lines of varying lengths. Healed over and darkened with time, but not faded. Barely an inch of his face remains free of them. Then, his smile. Plastered on from ear to ear, each one of his pearly white teeth boldly exposed for her to individually count. A smile that undoubtedly is painful to look at, and is even more painful to bear. It doesn't reach his eyes. There are two fish hooks in each corner of his mouth, but there is not a single trace of humor left in his eyes. All three are supported by a dark ring in the wake of a shimmering glint of joy.

His bangs are cut short and choppily, exposing the problem area in question. As one would expect, it is closed, glued together by a sticky layer of seeping liquid in an unpleasantly vibrant yellow hue. The eyelid is an angry shade of red, inflamed, with a sight sheen to it. It radiates an irritated burning that can be felt from a foreign hand.

Killer says nothing, though he continues to hoarsely laugh in his seat. It seems rather pointless to ask her if she thinks it looks bad. Well, it hardly looks good, he's sure. Two blue irises dart towards Linn's face, and then away again just as quickly.

     He has little else to say to her.

          He just laughs.

The tranquility of an old wooden quill scratching softly over folded paper was interrupted. Exactly 8:00 p.m. With the door opening, the briefest wind announces her last patient for the day. Welcoming and warm — the room Killer would step into — the homely office would be comforting for both the visitors and her wide collection of plants and herbs, all sensitive in their own ways. Linn knew how Killer despised check-ups. More reasonable than her captain, still accepting it with a clenched jaw if time required it. When the blonde made an appointment prior, she would lie if that made her not worry. The first whiplash was covered up with soft, understanding hums, as she would offer any member of her crew, not judging, not worrying to keep them at ease.

❝ Quite natural. ❞ Silken voice, barely above a whisper, Linn replies. Her attention drawn away from her notebook, getting up from the heavy chair and gently walking over to where Killer had already seated himself. While yes, his body language and vocal range hinted at a slight nervousness, there was more going on.

He was a mess.

It was not solely because of the pain—that much the feline can make out. Killer's uneasiness almost makes her collected nature crumble. ❝ It is fine, Killer. We will figure things out in no time. ❞. Unsure if this petty attempt at reassurance will even stick, the doctor closes the distance slowly, without any hasty movements. Why is he so tense...?

Soft paws seemed to not know what to do, hesitating to even get close to his helmet and eventually hanging on her sides, stiff shoulders accompanied by a troubled and embarrassed smile. ❝ Would you be so kind...? ❞ Linn motions to the striped helmet, not daring to take his security away but leaving him to decide the pace of this check-up.

#tw panic attack #tw anxiety attack #tw emetophobia #tw facial dysmorphia #tw dysmorphia #tw implied sh #tw scars #ask to tag #medicus-felini #medicus felini #(tagging the shit out of this because i'm not taking any chances upsetting anyone on my dash) #// haha sorry this got slightly grim i hope this is ok;;; #// linn can just sit on his lap and start purring and i'm sure he'll be fine. #// emotional support cat. #// thank u for loving him i appreciate hearing it a lot!!!! #// you know i love linn too i adore her and will give her salmon treats for being a good cat.

[knifechased]

❝ One may stray from the path of a man, one may stray from the path of a woman, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀but there is no straying from the path of a human! ❞

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Independant and semi-selective roleplay blog for Bon Clay/ Bon Kurei/ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Bentham from the series One Piece.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Adored by Fungi. 21+

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀with great help from @waxgentleman ♥

♡ Rules

♡ Muse ↷

[ Mr. 2 uses mainly he/him pronouns, but is more than fine with any! ]

♡ Verses

♡ Rp Memes

#❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — KILLING FOR COMPANY.┊❛ promo ❜ ❫ #// this blog isn't even finished but i must have bon clay's promo here immediately!!!!

[knifechased]

【 CONTINUED. 】 @medicus-felini

          Barely a few seconds had passed since he sat down before he found himself pinned by the weight of the adult female mink's head nestling down into his thighs. He's startled, blinking at her behind the cover of his mask. His hands remain poised in the air, unsure of where to place them.

          She is rumbling.

     ❝ ...Are you... cold? ❞

His crew doesn't normally cuddle with him. He is uncertain of how to proceed.

#medicus-felini #medicus felini #tbt ic #// killer attracting all the pussy tbh

[knifechased]

Pocky day was over. Almost a week. Still, Linn had a couple of boxes she just couldn't finish alone; hell, why not try to offer the blonde some? The biscuit sticks are conveniently shaped, fitting perfectly in his mask holes. Linn would bet her last bit of fur that Killer must like them at least a bit.

And so she drags herself nervously to the masked one, chocolate-flavored Pocky in hand - these are a classic. Can't be wrong with them. The doctor cleared her throat to get his attention.

❝ Killer? I still have some Pocky. And yes, before you point it out, I am sure Kid would help me eat them. I just think he had more than enough sugar for the next month already. ❞ The last sentence sinks into a whisper. White paws fumble one stick out, holding it in front of his covered face.

❝ I am sure you like them, no? It's chocolate. I also have other flavors, j-just in case you like another type. ❞

                    【 November 11 — Pocky Day. 】           @medicus-felini

          Admittedly, the Mink doctor has caught him at an unfortunate time. He's halfway through moving the band equipment from the stage on the main deck, back down to its usual home in the dedicated music room situated in the lower part of the hull. Nobody had bothered packing anything up after performing last night, which, he supposes, was fairly inevitable; with how much everyone had been drinking, half the crew hadn't even properly made it back to their beds and ended up passing out cold drunk on the wooden floorboards. Tidying up and putting away the instruments had been a chore best saved for when they were sober enough to carry heavy equipment.

Killer is supporting the weight of two amps when she approaches him, one under each arm. The wheels on their cases had mysteriously broken off and shattered recently, and though he has no evidence to prove his theory, he suspects it may have been the doing of a certain infamous duo using them for racing down the hallway again. Carrying the equipment was easier than troubling himself with fixing the busted transporters.

Peering at Linn's paws through the holes in his mask, Killer ceases his footfall, yet his grip on the amps remains. Though she may not have specifically stated that she would feed him, he has, without realizing, misinterpreted her suggestion. Unknowingly, he has taken this as an offer to give him the snack by hand, since he's obviously too busy to do it himself. And since she is correct in her assumption that he's a fan of the biscuit sticks, he's going to accept her invitation.

            ❝ Sure, the original is fine. I like most of them. ❞

He's immediately then leaning down towards the cat Mink, moving his mask to her face as he expects the delivery of the chocolate treat towards the circular coin-sized hole situated just before his lips.

Should she look carefully enough, she should just be able to make out the glint of ice blue eyes through the light filtering in through his helmet; his expression calm, nonchalant, expecting, as if this occurrence were typical for them.

He merely sounds casually conversational when he speaks again.

          ❝ Have you tried Pretz? ❞

#medicus-felini #medicus felini #tbt ic #❪ ⋅ ◍ 〵 — CUTTING THEM ALL DOWN TO SIZE.┊❛ asks ❜ ❫ #// you know when your cat brings you food because they think you're too useless to feed yourself #// this is kind of him assuming she's doing that. #// and he's just going to accept it because he does like pocky. #// these pocky day asks are making me want to order so much pepero aaaaaaaaaaaa #// sorry i'm still EXTREMELY sick so forgive me if there are mistakes ok!!!

[knifechased]

【 UNPROMPTED STARTER. 】 @medicus-felini

When Killer told her that he would be in her office at 8:00 PM, it was to be expected that he would be punctual. It's 7:59 PM when his hand finally clasps around the door handle, after having spent the past two to three minutes restlessly, awkwardly pacing up and down the hallway. Reluctant to enter and contemplating cancelling the entire affair, he's devising numerous excuses for why the appointment is no longer feasible. An inexplicable, miraculous cure to his ailment, perhaps; or the sudden realization that he is double booked, and the other event in question simply must take precedence. A hasty apology, and an abrupt exit before she has time to suggest rescheduling.

Shoulders tighten in a deep inhale, and then slacken in a deliberate exhale that is intended to dispel all the tension building in his upper body. It fails to provide relief.

No. He knows better than to flee from this in a spur of cowardice. Linn had kindly allowed him to reserve an especially late slot in her evening specifically so they would remain undisturbed; he couldn't beseech her to repeatedly work long hours for his sake, only to abandon her at the last moment. The appointment would be unpleasant, but continually agonizing over not going through with it was also stressful in itself, and the latter proved to be entirely unproductive.

The door handle feels aberrantly heavy in his hand as he presses it firmly down. The creaking of the door is particularly loud, but it's no competition for the thunderous pounding of his heart in his mouth, a sickly thumping that drains all his vitality, leaving his legs feeling hollow with dread.

Ridiculous. Nothing is happening. She's a doctor, and it's an entirely professional environment. He should know better than to tremble in anxiety over such a trivial matter.

Yet, the wave of vertigo only intensifies as he steps inside the office and detects the earthy scent of fresh herbal tinctures, the woodsy smell of the mahogany desk stationed across the room.

Killer shuts the door behind him, and then presses his flat palm against it to ensure it's definitely completely closed, and there's no possibility of it swinging open midway through the session. He moves his hand away. Then checks it a second time, just to be absolutely sure. Finally, he makes his way to the patients' chair seated across from her study.

❝ Thank you for seeing me this late. ❞ There's a bit of a drawl to his expression of gratitude; a slurring that demonstrates his lack of enthusiasm. Despite being cordial, they both know he doesn't want to be here, and if he could choose freely, it wouldn't have come to this. Still, no good will come of dwelling over such things. He adamantly told himself that if his symptoms persisted, he would arrange an appointment with her. Since then, he would be lying if he were to deny that he was now in an even worse state of discomfort. This is no longer a problem that he is able to remedy by his own hands, with his own limited medical expertise.

❝ It's —❞ A pause, as he wets his drying lips from behind the safety of his mask. ❝ ...My eye. ❞ He fumbles with the word, as if he were speaking a foreign language and was uncertain of the correct pronunciation. One might mistake him for confessing his most horrendous sins to a priest, rather than describing a medical condition to his trustworthy doctor. ❝ During our last fight, there was a lot of debris... I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I felt something blow inside my mask. ❞ Another pause, then; an actor struggling to remember a rehearsed line from a script. ❝ Glass, maybe? I'm not sure. I tried to flush it out with eye drops, but it's not helping. ❞

His head turns to the side, dishonorably. The last battle the pirate crew had encountered had been more than ten days prior, and during that time, he had not once spoken of his ongoing discomfort. Perhaps being reproached was to be expected; warranted, even. Yet, he had been avoiding this one scenario tooth and nail, fighting it with all his might.

He didn't want her to look.

He didn't want anyone to look.

He would rather sit with ten days of a stinging, scratching, reddening, bleeding eye than have to take off his mask — but he supposes it is no longer an option to simply pray the problem ceases on its own.

Since he had woken up this morning, he hasn't been able to open his third eye at all.

#long post #tw eye horror #tw dysmorphia #tw facial dysmorphia #medicus-felini #medicus felini #tbt ic #// haha this was gonna be an ask but then it got too long so now it's a surprise starter!!! #// drops an anxious killer in linn's office and buggers off!

[knifechased]

❪ ◍ ❫  continued. @medicus-felini

As arduous as it may be, endeavoring to keep the sparring to an absolute minimal was, without question, the best approach, even if that resulted in Linn becoming progressively more impatient and agitated over the course of the next few hours. She presently has no perception of her own strength, nor does she have the ability to register that her nakama will still be suffering the effects of her attacks for some time to come, even after the moon is no longer at its fullest stage and she has returned to her usual, soft-hearted nature. Besides the ferocity of her own attacks, it was also fair to assume that her heightened adrenaline is temporarily reducing her ability to fully experience pain. She could very easily get herself hurt without even realizing how badly injured she was until later. Her idea of blowing off steam is too detrimental to her own health, too.

Killer folds his arms over his chest.

❝ It's either the sandbags, or it's nothing. You're not in a good position to know your own limits right now. ❞

There's a harsh edge to each word, sharp and unrelenting, unwaveringly authoritative.

❝ Settle. Down. ❞

#medicus felini #medicus-felini #tbt ic #[ // thank you!!! I hope he's ok! ] #[ // I love Sulinn so much. Once a month isn't enough!! ]