#Look their wings might be metallic but at least they have them & he can actually recognize their body language

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 169

Danny is from a world where everyone has wings, even if most have long since lost the ability to fly. Something about loading and aspect ratio, wings being too small, body too heavy, now mostly used as display, whatever. 

It doesn’t matter even if he had blueprints from when he was like six of a jetpack to help fly. It won’t work anyway and hey, he has his ghost form! Which uh, might be perhaps, affecting his wings which were maybe sort of scorched black and practically down to the bone thanks to the accident. 

It doesn’t matter, he swears. Though he’s admittedly relieved to see the new feathers growing in are different from Dan’s angry sunset. Even if they’re not even supposed to be able to grow back. Alright, this is fine, no one is going to notice! It’s not like everyone knows about the poor Fenton kid whose wings were absolutely destroyed thanks to an accident! It’s fine. 

He’s not flying in a half-panic towards the Far Frozen while crying because his wings are coming back and he’s so scared. He didn’t panic and instantly fled the moment Jazz pointed them out while changing the bandages. 

He definitely didn’t trip over something while wiping away said tears and blacking out from all the stress and all of his problems that he definitely mentioned to someone and isn’t keeping a secret. Definitely. 

Hawkwoman and Hawkman would like everyone to know that neither of them were expecting a very small child to be spat out of the villain of that week’s machine that should definitely not be a portal. A very small child, maybe nine or ten, with a multitude of concerning wounds both old and fresh. Which isn’t even beginning to touch on the wings. 

Feathered, like baby down despite the gnarled scars, unlike their own metallic, with the beginning of tiny specklings like stars amidst the darker fuzz peeking from the wounded flesh. 

Who?! Who dared?! It’s (at least to the forever reincarnating duo) a literal baby! They still have down! Tiny baby fuzz! Was it the portal?! Oh this villain is going to taste their maces for causing this if that’s the case! 

The rest of the Justice League would honestly like to know what just happened and are honestly unsure on if they should stop the two…

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #wing au #Shayera & Carter: THAT IS A BABY #Danny who is still very distressed when he wakes up: I don’t know what’s going on & might start crying at any moment #He got brought to the Watchtower #Y’know what make it where his world is similar to a Flashpoint timeline & that’s why JL never came #He has no idea why he’s tiny and just wanted to go to one of his caretakers #The League is trying to figure out how to get this kid home but also subtly asking how his home life is #Danny: Oh I guess my bio-parent’s house is dangerous but my caretaker’s homes are really cool and safe! #The JL now think this child is in foster care of some sort in his world #Danny does nothing to dissuade this assumption #Honestly it’s really freaky for him to see people without wings & maybe clings to Hawkwoman & Hawkman #Look their wings might be metallic but at least they have them & he can actually recognize their body language #How can anyone deal with not being able to express with wings?! #Even if his were completely scorched from the Accident he could still move them and such!

[randomfandomlov3]

Heat Thief

Warnings: Fluff, Pregnancy, Health concerns, let me know if I missed any.

WC~1995

A/N - Tried to keep reader description to a minimum. Not edited much. This was just a cute thought that popped into my head. Thank you for reading <3

All Bucky could think about was getting home to his girl, his doll. The mission hadn’t taken very long, but he was absolutely exhausted. As he walked through the halls of the tower, he was confused because he normally heard her singing, or talking excitedly to someone about his return. They had decided that spending her whole day waiting for him in the jet bay to meet him when he got back, only caused them both distress. As he entered the elevator to get to their floor, Steve joined him. “Hey Punk, anything interesting happen while I was gone?” Bucky joked, knowing that the odds were low since he was only gone 3 days.

“Actually Buck, something has been happening, but I don’t know whether you would call it interesting, or if instead concerning might be a better word. Your girl, I think she might be unwell.” Steve said trying to break the news to his best friend as gently as he could.

Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest out of fear for his doll. What was wrong with her, was she going to be okay? Are we talking a cold, or something more serious?

Steve exhaled, and Bucky realized that he had said that out loud. “I don’t know exactly; her main symptom is that she hasn’t been able to get warm. She has been freezing for almost the entire time that you have been gone. She thinks it’s just the chills, but she doesn’t have a fever, in fact her body temperature is dropping. I have tried to get her to go see Helen, but she won’t. She said that she didn���t think this was a big deal, and she was nervous to go without you.” Steve finished just as the doors opened into the living room.

There she was, or at least that is what Bucky assumed, seeing the large mass of blankets gathered on the couch. “Doll, are you okay?” Bucky sweetly called out as he approached the shivering bundle. He knelt down in front of her to be face to face.

“Baby, your home! Yeah, I-I’m okay. I’ve ju-just got the ch-chills.” She gave him a big smile and tried to stop shivering. He put his lips to her forehead to check if she felt warm, but she didn’t.

“Doll, your lips are turning blue, let’s get you to Helen so we can make sure nothing serious is wrong.” Bucky reached into the bundle of blankets and picked his girl up. She was wearing his warmest clothes, which weren’t nearly as warm as she needed, because he always ran hot. As he carried her down to the medical wing, she curled deeper into his chest seeking his warmth.

Bucky explained the situation to Dr. Cho as he paced the small space.

“Hmm. Your body temperature is very low, almost in the range of hypothermia. Have you been partaking in any cold activities, that could have caused this?” She just shook her head in response to Helen’s question. “Okay, well, I am going to run some bloodwork, to see if we can figure out what is going on.” She took the blood that she needed and left the room.

Bucky clenched his metal fist out of worry. “Don’t worry, Doll, we’ll figure this out together what ever it is.” His girl shivered again, while nodding. He figured there could be no harm in trying to warm her a little bit. Bucky wrapped her up in his arms trying to give her as much of his heat as he could.

A few minutes later Dr. Cho returned to the room with a smile on her face. Bucky was confused as to why she looked happy, when his girl was close to experiencing hypothermia. “I have some good news and some less good news. But I am going to start with the good news, because the other news won’t make sense otherwise.” The smile on her face got bigger as she sat across from them. “You’re pregnant, my dear.” She paused to let the news sink in.

Bucky turned to his girl, excitement bubbling over. “We’re going to be parents, Doll.”

She nodded with happy tears in her eyes. “Now what’s the less go-good news?” There was a hint of fear behind her shiver.

Helen smile softened as she looked at her notes again. “So we also found trace amounts of the super soldier serum in your blood, which, of course, means that your baby received the serum from their father. And as we see in Barnes, the serum causes an elevated body temperature. For the average pregnancy, the fetus maintains a body temperature roughly 0.9®F higher than the mother, however, your baby’s body temperature is trying to get to that of a super soldier which is putting more stain on your body to produce heat for the baby to properly develop. Much like, if you would prefer this analogy, there is always a perfect temperature to hatch an egg, but for yours it requires much higher than what is typically produced.” She tried to simplify it given the looks upon their faces.

“So what can we do, Helen?” Bucky asked concerned for both his girl and his baby. He looked over at his doll, who had moved her hands down to her abdomen and had a soft look on her face.

“Heat, in a way that can get into her on a deeper level. Heating pads or bags, Warm not too hot showers or baths, warmed blankets, or probably the most effective way would be skin to skin contact with a certain super soldier who runs hot.” She gives a wink to Bucky.

“Okay thank you Helen, I’m gl-ad that we now know what’s going on.” Y/N shivered once again as Bucky scooped her into his arms.

“Before you go, I should let you know, that we are going to have to monitor you often throughout this pregnancy, because we don’t exactly know how the serum is going to effect things.” Dr. Cho handed Bucky a list of concerns to look out for.

“Thank you, Helen, I appreciate this very much,” Bucky said as he carried his doll out of the room and back to their floor.

He got her back to their room and decided that they should take a warm shower before getting into bed. He told her to get started and that he would join her in a minute. He heated up their towels and got the bed set up like a nest of warmth, with the warmest and fluffiest blankets he could find. Bucky then went back into the bathroom and joined his girl. He wrapped his arms around her resting his hands on her lower abdomen. “I can’t believe that we are going to be parents, Doll.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, and he heard her sigh and lean into him.

“I can’t wait to have a little version of us running around, but I swear if they have your stamina, you are tiring them out.” She laughed imagining their little one running around the tower.

“Oh, come on, Doll, you know you love my stamina.” He teased, his breath brushing against her ear, causing her to shiver for a different reason.

“I do, but if I have to put up with the energy that is bound to come while they are in the womb, you have to deal with it outside.” She looked at the man holding her with his head on her shoulder.

“I love you, Doll.” He pressed his lips to hers conveying all the love that he had in his body.

“I love you too, Baby.” They finished up in the shower and Bucky wrapped her up in the towel before carrying her to the bed. Her body shivered at the cool air. They both got under the blankets and although it felt like a sauna under there to Bucky, his girl finally started to warm up as she curled into his chest. His heartbeat and soft words lulled her into the first warm peaceful sleep she has had since he left for his mission.

“Night, Doll.” He pressed one more kiss to the top of her head, before falling asleep with a big smile on his face.

______________________________________________________________

She is now four months along, Baby is developing well, more than average, but still healthy, and still stealing heat. The team is excited to eventually meet their little nibbling and spoil them.

Bucky has been debating when to start his temporary leave from missions because the last thing he wants is for his doll to go into labour while he is not there for her and their baby. So while he was out on missions heating pads became her best friend.

Today Bucky was doing his workout for the day with a spectator, his girl didn’t feel like being alone right now and just wanted to be in his company. For some reason, She felt colder than most days today, so she figured she would use her heating pad, so she didn’t interrupt Bucky’s workout. She placed it on her bump and when she turned it on, she felt a strong kick right where it was sitting. She had felt the baby flutter before that but no kicks that aggressive. She turned the heating pad off as she rubbed her belly to ease the discomfort. Baby super soldiers kick hard.

“Doll? Is everything alright?” Bucky asked rushing over and kneeling in front of his girl. He placed his hand on her bump, and the baby started to flutter, although Bucky couldn’t feel it.

“Yeah, the baby just kicked for the first time, and wow is our baby going to be strong.” She giggled rubbing her belly. “Do you want to feel?”

He nodded enthusiastically, “Absolutely, I would love to.” He kept his hand on her bump as she turned the heating pad back on. Sure enough, the baby aggressively kicked at it.

“I think our little one can tell the difference between artificial heat, and heat that comes from their daddy. And have decided to make their opinion about it very well known to me.” She turned off the heating pad and took it off, giggling. All of a sudden, a shiver overcomes her. Well, it’s not that sudden since if she didn’t have some form of heat on her she would start shivering for the past months. Thankfully, Tony had figured out a way to make some heating for Bucky’s her clothes. That was best for when she had to run errands, or anything really that required walking for longish periods.

Bucky sat down beside her, pulling her in to give her heat. “It’s been decided, I am stepping back from missions until our little one is here and settled.”

She must have heard him wrong, right? “Baby, you don’t have to do that. I promise we’ll be fine.” She knew how important missions were to him. “You love going on missions, they are an important part of your life.”

He shook his head. “You and this baby are the most important parts of my life. And if our little one likes my warmth, I will be there for both of you. I can’t stand the thought of you two being uncomfortable while I am away.” Bucky’s right hand started to caress her bump, causing their little one to little tap their daddy’s hand.

“Our little one already loves you so much. Just like their Mama. I love you, Baby.” Her heart swelled at the bond already forming between the baby and their daddy.

“I love you too, Doll. I love you both so much. I cannot wait to meet our little one.” He held her as tight as he could.

Bucky knew he had to go talk to the team about taking off active missions for a while, but that could wait until later, right now his world needed him.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #pregnancy fic

[stareaterau]

Chapter 1 episode 3

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Let's see if these two have murdered each other yet

CW: injury, blood, violence

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"You're that bird person from the alleyway."

In front of Scar, the familiar stranger stands motionless and quiet, framed by the striated walls of the ravine. Despite having placed their weapon back in its sheath, they still look as if they’re on edge. Their body is tightly wound, their wings held out slightly, in a subtle effort to make their form larger, combating Scar's height. At their side, their taloned hands hang, fidgeting restlessly.

Scar shuffles awkwardly under his piercing gaze, growing more uncomfortable by the second. His reflection stares back at him from the deep, black voids of their eyes. At first, Scar had thought that they were utterly black, but, looking now, he can see the slight edge of brown circling his wide pupils, the bright sun casting an almost purple sheen across their surface. They’re quite pretty, he muses, as he waits for the other's response. He rocks on his heels, grimacing slightly at the deep ache setting into his legs and the soles of his feet.

Growing impatient at the silence, Scar reaches out, tempting fate by waving his hand in front of the bird's face. Nothing. The stranger continues to stare at Scar, unblinking. The only sign of recognition he can decipher is the slightest flicker of his feathers as they bristle at the proximity. Scar huffs, disappointed at his failure to evoke a reaction.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have big, creepy eyes?”

That manages to break him out of his stoic stare. He splutters awkwardly, gawking, an incredulous look crossing his face. He looks away, embarrassed.

“Ah hah! You looked away, I won the staring contest!” Scar grins triumphantly.

“I wasn't- what? I was just processing-” The stranger doesn’t return the disarming gesture, their mouth a thin line. Their arms clank softly against each other as he crosses them. Scar hadn’t gotten a good look at them before. He’d thought that they had just been wearing a long, black undershirt at first, but there’s no mistaking the dark metallic casing and wiring of the robotic prosthetics.

“Imagine the chances we’d ever meet again, huh?” Scar grins wildly, stepping forward with as open a demeanour as he can muster, pretending he’s meeting an old friend. He almost is, in a messed up way.

The stranger doesn’t return this warm gesture either. Instead, he frowns at Scar, a multitude of emotions unsuccessfully masked as they cross his face. His gaze flickers up to meet Scar’s eyes before something scared or sorrowful flashes in him, directing the strangers' eyes to their feet instead. Their expression now hides behind their tangled hair as it falls across his face. He searches for the right words, but they die on his tongue. Shaking his head, he resets his expression, carefully masking any unwanted emotion. Finally, he looks back at Scar with a soft yet concerned smile.

“I- I couldn't- I sorta thought I killed you that night.”

“Oh… OH! I'm like a ghost to you!” Scar raises his hands in a mock scary gesture, making a low ‘ooo’ sound to do his best imitation of one. It would put everyone else’s attempts to shame at the yearly Vindicators' spaceween party, he thinks smugly. He’s sure his attempts to lessen the tension between his evidently awkward company and himself is working. It always works… or it works sometimes at least… Actually, this might be the first time he’s been able to get this far.

Unamused, the stranger raises an eyebrow. “Well not so much anymore- you'd be a pretty bad ghost if I could’ve tackled you that easily.”

“Ah- that's no fair. You have wings… and I don’t have the ability to turn incorporeal, yet.”

“Mm-hm.” The stranger hums, shifting as they drag their taloned feet through the sand, etching grooves in the grainy surface. Scar pauses, racking his brain for a response, desperately not wanting to lose the traction on the conversation he had just gained. If he lets the stranger shut himself off now, he’ll have to do all the work to get him to open up again. Scar doesn’t want the only sounds in this empty desert to be himself and the whistle of wind through sandstone tunnels.

“My name is Scar, by the way.”

The stranger turns his attention back to Scar. Pausing, as if they’re expecting there to be more to that statement. They frown, not looking convinced.

“Is that a nickname, or just an unfortunate coincidence?” They ask, tentatively, like they’re trying to avoid saying something to offend Scar.

“Hah! Wouldn't you like to know!”

That, out of everything, gets a laugh. However, the stranger quickly tries to disguise it behind a fake cough, burying his face in his arm. Scar smirks, satisfied by the other's reaction, ignoring a twinge of pain from the knife wound in his shoulder.

They look back to Scar, a more playful expression creeping its way onto their face. “…Yes, that is the nature of a question.”

Their wings slowly lower back into a more natural position, the muscles relaxing— not muscles, his wings look robotic, too. They’re covered in feathers, but they’re held up and moved by a metal armature where the bone should be. For a second, Scar wonders how much of their body remains untouched by metalwork.

Regardless, Scar just beams at him, revelling in his ability to make them laugh. Happy with his ability to lessen their agitation, he makes no indication of wanting to answer the question.

The stranger chuckles awkwardly at the silence and shrugs.

“Heh… well, my name's Grian.”

“Oh! That name really suits you.”

“Thanks?”

Scar watches as they pick up their helmet off the ground, shaking it gently to knock out the sand. They clip the helmet to their belt and turn away from Scar, walking off in the direction Scar had been headed earlier.

“Where are you going?” He calls out at him.

“I- We-” Scar catches the way Grian corrects himself, hoping that means his new friend has decided not to try attacking him again, “-should get moving to somewhere with more cover. It's getting darker.”

“Wh- how could you even tell that? It feels like the whole sky is just the sun.”

To emphasise his point, Scar stands up straighter, turning his gaze to the sky to try and pinpoint the sun within the harsh light. After a moment, he shields his eyes from the glare with his hand. Another moment later, unsuccessful, Scar lowers his gaze. He blinks rapidly and rubs his eyes, trying to lose the blurry afterimage that stays behind and plagues his vision. Grian looks away from Scar, an unreadable, mostly uncomfortable expression on his face. He flexes his wings, shaking his feathers out, then strides away.

Scar realises he’s falling behind. He catches up hastily, coughing up an air of responsibility to match Grian’s. They are a ‘we’ after all.

Scar is honestly glad for Grian's company. He provides a familiar face, even if he is a familiar face he met only briefly… and a familiar face that promptly tried to kill him upon reuniting. At least Scar doesn’t feel like he has to pretend to be serious around him— Grian has that handled for the both of them. Although, Scar is certainly going to do his best to break through the birds' cold facade. “So, are we heading in any particular direction?”

Grian shakes his head, before realizing he should elaborate.

“I can fly up and scout out a direction later, but not now. Right now, I'd like to find a spot to rest.”

He stretches his wings out fully, the feathers bristling as the hinges make a soft rattling whine. Scar marvels at the impressive wingspan. He’s never seen wings quite this big before.

“You were flying a lot?” Scar watches them, intrigued. They don’t look like elytra, despite their metal parts, and Grian has far more control over them than even an experienced user. Elytra also don’t tend to come feathered like his— his look jarringly realistic. Maybe he’s an avian?

Scar’s never actually seen an avian before, though that’s not out of the ordinary. Most people haven’t. Could robotic enhancements be commonplace amongst them? Scar is somewhat familiar with enhancements, they’d even been offered to him once, but he’d declined, opting for the less invasive options. Mechanically enhancing what were once organic wings is the only option Scar can think of that matches Grian’s capabilities. That must be what he is, Scar concludes. Though, he pictured avians being taller.

“Yes,” Grian replies bluntly, his tone changing noticeably at the subject.

“Do you have an enderchest?” Scar inquires instead, searching for topics that aren’t sore spots.

Grian whips his head up to look at Scar, a bewildered expression spreading across his face.

“...What? No.”

“Dang it.” Scar sighs.

“Why would you want an enderchest?” He asks, growing curious after the initial surprise.

“I lost mine. It has some pretty important things in it that I need.” Scar hums, looking down at his scratched leg braces. They’re starting to creak under the strain of walking for so long. If Grian had one, he could use it to access his stuff. He really could do with his cane, or anything that can ease the stress on his braces. Grian follows Scar’s gaze, a particularly strained expression returning to his face. Scar frowns at how he almost looks guilty.

“I know you’re a Vindicator and everything,” Grian makes an effort to maintain the current topic and hide the distaste in his tone as he eyes Scar’s neat, albeit dusty, uniform. Scar isn’t surprised by Grian’s opinion on Vindicators. Grian was wanted by them when they had first met, but he at least has the decency to swap his tone out for a more apologetic one towards the end. “Enderchests aren't as common as you think. It might be a while till you can get to one.”

“...Really?”

“Yup.”

“Do you know where we are, then?” Scar quizzes, taking note of Grian's phrasing.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don't know where we are, or how I got here. You're the first person I've seen.”

Grian looks away, pausing to calculate his answer. His hard-won casual demeanour bleeds back into his previous defensive apathy. “We're in the same boat, I have no idea.”

Scar watches him, sure that Grian is holding something back. There’s something he doesn’t want Scar to know. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Pressing him on it would probably just push the avian further away. The last thing Scar wants to do is push away the only person he’s seen for miles, especially when that person seems to know more than what they let on. He chooses to stay quiet. He’s anxious to avoid agitating the bird further. He still has a weapon, and Scar is rather fond of the idea of not finding himself on the other end of it again.

Silence falls over the two, the only sound coming from their steady footfalls meeting the sandy ground, and the whistle of wind through the caverns. Eventually, his worry about Grian shutting him out completely resurfaces, but he isn’t sure what to say.

“So… got a favourite animal?”

“You have an awful way of being chummy with your would-be murderer.” Grian titters.

“I wouldn't call you that.”

“Still.” he shrugs, unconvinced.

“I don't think you were trying to kill me. At least not the first time.”

Abruptly, Grian stills, his feathers bristling.

“And about today- I'm not dead, and you’re not in the process of killing me, see?” Scar carries on. Grian turns away sharply, but Scar is undeterred.

“You're a pretty unsuccessful murderer, if you are one. I've put myself in more danger on purpose than you’ve put me in on accident.” Scar barks out a laugh, but receives no response. Grian's face hides behind his cheek feathers and hair.

“You don't know me,” Grian replies flatly.

“But I'd like to.”

Scar tilts his head, stepping in front of the bird, trying to get a read on his face. They lock eyes only briefly. Grian’s eyes are wide, his brow furrowed, and his face contorted by a frown.

“Anddd- we have time-” Scar adds more gently, “You said you wanted to rest.”

“What if my kind of rest doesn't involve talking?” Grian retorts, tone still flat, but the slight lilt of amusement is unmistakable.

“Oh, well-”

Scar doesn’t get the chance to finish his thought. A shrill, distorted cry fills the sky above them.

Grian and Scar both turn on the spot, their heads snapping in the direction of the sound. Soaring above them is a colony of three familiar creatures. Bright green eyes lock onto them both.

“Are those-”

“Phantoms.” Grian finishes, his feathers standing on end, fluffing up reflexively.

“What are phantoms doing here?” Scar asks, searching Grian for any indication that he knows what’s going on, but the avian looks just as clueless. Phantoms shouldn’t be here. They are artificially manufactured creatures, used as surveillance drones and protection in big cities, or anywhere where the landowners are wealthy enough to afford them. Scar encountered many during his patrols in the capital of Vindicator territory. They definitely aren’t something you would find in the wilderness, let alone a desolate desert like this one. They don’t even count as wildlife, as they’re more robotic than organic. The last of the desert sun reflects off the metallic plating lining their backs as they twist and glide through the air. The bright lights of their eyes shine, harsh and cold, illuminating Scar and Grian with a green glow in the ever-darkening wasteland.

Grian grabs Scar's elbow and drags him towards the walls of the ravine.

“We need to hide!” He hisses. Scar, not arguing, follows him through the tighter passages of the caverns. Unfortunately, they don’t provide as much cover as they had hoped, the walls still far enough apart for the bat-like creatures to give chase. They dash into a covered tunnel, but they have already been spotted, the phantoms fly lower, circling.

As one of the creatures dives towards the entrance, Grian pushes Scar behind him and backs them both closer to the wall. Scar, taken aback by the sudden protectiveness, can only go along with it in a dumbfounded daze.

“Do you have a weapon on you?” Grian asks, quickly scanning him up and down.

Scar falters. “Uh- no.”

“What kind of Vindicator are you?” Grian raises his voice, pulling an expression somewhere between angry and amused.

“Hey! I didn't decide I wanted to be stranded without weapons- they've been taken.” Scar counters, a comically sad look on his face.

“What?” Genuine surprise plasters across Grian’s features. Another piercing shriek fills the air, interrupting him, as another phantom separates from the group and dives towards them.

Quickly, Grian turns back to face the danger. Spreading his wings out as far as they can go, he presses Scar into the sandy, stone wall. Scar splutters, feathers catching in his mouth. As delighted as he is that Grian is now deciding to protect him, Scar can’t help feeling defenceless as Grian takes their lives into his own hands.

“We are so screwed with one sword between us.” Scar complains hopelessly, pushing the feathers out of his face. The phantom barely misses them, metal slamming into soft rock with a clang, causing sand and debris to rain down over them. The creature flies back to regroup with the other two, hopefully with wounded pride. That is, assuming it’s even capable of feeling pride.

“It's also a gun,” Grian adds.

“It's also a gun!?!” Scar gasps, a plan formulating in his mind. “How!? Show me! A gun is way more useful!”

Utilising the advantage of being held so close to the avian, Scar reaches forward and grabs the sword out of its holster, unnoticed.

“No, that's a bad idea!” Grian cries as Scar ducks, slipping under Grian’s wing and sprinting ahead to the mouth of the cave.

As he raises the blue blade, Grian lets out a shrill yell. He lunges for Scar as the Vindicator inspects the weapon, prodding at the grooves for a button and thumping the hilt against his palm.

Scar clicks a button that looks like a trigger. The knife folds in on itself, clipping in place, and the blue blade shrinks as a portion of its energy is diverted to fill a small bar. That must signify the ammo, Scar hums to himself, pleased at this discovery.

"Don't shoot it!" Grian yells with surprising ferocity, but Scar can’t see an alternative. Grian reaches him, grabbing onto Scar’s injured shoulder. He bites down on his tongue, hard, to avoid flinching. Making use of his military training, he forces himself to push through the throbbing pain.

Grian quickly releases him, hissing in pain himself. Scar doesn’t take the time to find out what hurt the avian, instead scanning the phantoms as they twist in the air, preparing to dive again, excited that their prey has moved into the open. He aims, and fires.

The shot makes contact with a phantom just as it dives towards them, long metal claws spread wide and teeth bared as it shrieks. The bullet burrows into the soft, fleshy material on its lower jaw, embedding itself deep in the phantom's head. The creature's cry dies in its throat, its eyes flickering out. It tumbles to the ground, kicking up dust in front of Grian and Scar. Smoke billows out of the mouth of the creature, the bullet wound smouldering.

Scar hears a quiet “woah” from behind him.

“Ahah! Did you see that??” Scan grins, amazed that he actually hit it on his first try. Scar spins on the spot to face Grian, who blinks at him, mouth agape. Scar twirls the gun in his hand, the remaining blade shrinking as more power is diverted to refill the used ammo.

Grian huffs, regaining his composure, and scowls. “Well, I was looking straight at it, so yeah- and give me that!” He snatches his weapon back from Scar with a grunt.

The other two phantoms dive into the ravine. They move faster and more daringly, learning from the mistake of their fallen friend.

“Oh … oh no.” Scar whispers.

Grian unfolds the weapon, its blade noticeably smaller than its original size, and places it back into its holster. “See, I told you the gun is a bad idea! Ask before you waste someone's bullets!”

This time he makes a point of keeping his hand on its hilt, both to prevent Scar from trying to take it again, and to be ready to fend off the approaching phantoms if they get too close.

“There's only two now- I could just hit them again!” Scar argues, casting a panicked glance at the approaching creatures.

“That was pure luck- without bullets, I don’t have a blade, and without a blade, I'm without a weapon!” A dark tone infects Grian's words as he glares at Scar, who sighs defeatedly.

“Well, what else can we use? There's no other projectiles.” The phantoms scratch at the exit, waiting for either of them to get too close.

“I don't know, be creative with it!” Grian huffs hopelessly, his face taut with frustration.

“I could throw you.” Scar teases, eyeing up the shorter man to emphasize his joke. Grian just stares back at him with a deadpan expression, and Scar giggles to himself. Scar takes a small step towards the exit. Not too far, but it's enough that one of the phantoms spots them separate and focuses on him with a screech.

Grian shoves past Scar, who continues to giggle to himself, and reaches for the only other thing he has on him. Holding his helmet in his hand, he takes a full-bodied swing at the phantom clawing towards him, close enough to scrape against Grian’s arm. Metal cracks against metal as he hits the phantom, hard, and it’s flung back by the force. The creature rolls helplessly through the sand, metal plating creaking under the strain of the new dent. Grian inhales shakily, thankfully unharmed.

Scar lets out an alarmed cry, and Grian looks up in time to see the phantom regain its bearings. It shakes, sand flying off in every direction, and launches itself back into the air with a powerful flap of its wings. It circles a few times before swooping back down towards them, faster this time, its eyes blazing and its jaw wide and unhinged.

Grian panics. He makes an involuntary squawk and launches his helmet right at the injured phantom. The helmet collides with the phantom's head with a sickening crunch, and the phantom falls limply out of the air.

“Aha! I got it!” Grian shouts triumphantly. Scar cheers behind him, just as surprised that it worked.

Their celebrations are horribly timed. The final phantom wails and plummets towards them. They both throw themselves out of the way, only to watch it grab the helmet in its claws and retreat over the ravine walls, out of sight.

“Noooo!” Grian cries out, running hopelessly back into the ravine. He stretches his wing out, readying himself to take off after the phantom, but he hesitates. He decides against it, holding his head in his hands, groaning over the loss of his helmet.

“…. Well …at least it's gone now,” Scar says, walking up beside Grian, hoping to cheer him up a little. Grian just laughs, dejected.

Sighing, he looks up at the sky. The sun has almost entirely disappeared from view now, revealing a dark red sky. Grian yawns, stretching his arms over his head. He flinches as his wounded shoulder is pulled by the movement, and Scar yelps quietly to himself, his hand reaching for his own injured shoulder.

Grian turns to Scar, a tired look on his face. He eyes Scar’s jacket as he rubs at it absent-mindedly, the fabric stained from where Grian had stabbed him. Grian frowns, contemplating his next move.

He walks past Scar, his steps heavy on the sandy ground. Re-entering the cavern, he all but collapses onto the sandy ground. Exhaustion and pain catch up to him as the adrenaline from the fight wears off. Sand billows around him as Grian’s tail drags across the floor, curling around himself. He looks up at Scar, who hasn’t moved, hesitating over what to do while Grian makes himself comfortable.

“...Come here.” Grian instructs him, his expression softening.

“Okay?” Scar replies, and sits himself down next to the bird. Slumping against the wall, he lets out a sigh of relief, glad to finally be off his feet.

Looking at Grian, he expects him to move away, but the avian shuffles closer to him.

“Alright then, take off your jacket.” Grian taps Scar’s arm, directing him.

Scar complies, pulling his shirt over his head at the same time.

“Just your jacket!” Grian squawks, “You don't need-” he fumbles at Scar’s teasing grin.

“It's hot! Besides, it’s a perfect opportunity to show off my awesome pecs.” Scar flexes for added flare. The softness is gone from Grian’s face.

“I just need to get to your shoulder.”

“Oh- what are you doing?”

“Wound dressing, or it's gonna get infected.”

“You have healing supplies?” Scar raises an eyebrow.

Grian fixes Scar with a weird look. Of course he has healing supplies. He always has healing supplies. He was just hoping to save them for himself… Scar doesn’t need to know that, though.

“...Yea… I just- forgot.”

Digging into one of his trouser pockets, Grian pulls out a small box. He pulls open the latch, revealing a small collection of items inside. It’s nothing like the regeneration potions that the Vindicators are equipped with, but Scar recognises some small healing wipes and rolls of dressings.

Grian raises the wipes to clean up the now-dried blood. He inspects the wound— Scar’s lucky his blade didn’t go too deep or hit a bone. It just falls shy of being too wide to go without being stitched up. It still looks nasty though. Grian winces, looking up at Scar with an apologetic look. As gently as he can, he starts to clean the wound.

“Sorry about this… by the way.”

“It's alright.”

Grian carefully cleans and bandages Scar’s wound, while Scar sits and tries to think of jokes and bizarre questions to ask the avian. They never make it past his lips, though— he isn’t sure it’s a good idea when Grian is looking more and more guilty as he works, Grian’s gaze occasionally drifting to the scars covering the right side of his companion’s body. It isn’t hard for him to guess why they’re there. Scar doesn’t want to push Grian too hard on the subject in case he closes off from him again, and it’s awkward enough as it is.

Instead, Scar settles on a different, more genuine approach.

“You know, I forgive you.”

Grian's discomfort is immediate. Scar is close enough to watch as his feathers pin back against his head. The avian avoids Scar’s gaze, instead focusing solely on his wound. He knows exactly what he’s referring to.

“You shouldn't. That's not fair, I barely know you.” He frowns, his hands pausing over Scar’s shoulder.

“I know that! But, well, you looked a lot worse back then,” Scar explains, admiring the brightly coloured feathers covering Grian’s face and ears. He remembers how dull and grimy they looked two and a half years ago.

There’s a waiver in Grian's voice, a lump growing in his throat. “And I left you looking dead-”

“But it was an accident!” Scar corrects.

Grian takes in a sharp breath. Scar watches his tail flicking at his feet.

“What can I do to make you stop bringing it up?” Grian asks quietly, pushing unnecessarily hard against the dressing of Scar’s wound. Scar hisses, and Grian removes his hand immediately as if he had burnt himself.

With a muttered apology, Grian sighs, resigned, finally looking back up at Scar.

“...Okay. If we're gonna be travelling together, I'll make a deal with you.”

Scar sits up straighter, intrigued.

“For almost killing you… twice,” Grian elaborates, “I'll be indebted to you and will protect you until we escape this game.”

“Game?” Scar repeats, confused. Is this a game?

“Urh- trap-” Grian stutters, trying to cover up his choice of words. “I’ll help you get home, off this planet. It mostly- depends on-” he waffles on.

“You won't kill me?” Scar clarifies, briefly dropping the cheerful disposition he had so carefully applied.

“I mean… third time’s the charm-” Grian grins foolishly. He coughs out a laugh when Scar doesn't return the sentiment, instead pulling a concerned expression. “...No, I won't kill you, that was a joke.”

Scar mulls the idea over. He gasps at a realization. “So you’ll be my sidekick?”

“...No.”

“Driver? Sofa?” Scar asks, trying to think of the word.

“Chauffeur, and no.” Grian sits back. “As I was saying- you not bringing up that night again is also part of the deal.” His tone is serious, expression hardened with no hint of amusement. He stares right at Scar, his void-like eyes boring into him. Scar feels like he might get cursed by looking into his eyes for too long.

So naturally, he tests that.

“And you'll let me use your gun?”

“Nope.” Grian replies without hesitation.

“Oh, I mean gun sword.”

“You're pushing it.” Grian acknowledges, glaring at him.

“Okay. okay, deal.”

“Good.”

They shake on it. Long, metal talons meeting worn, gloved hands.

“Can I say one thing about that day?” Scar asks, pulling his hand back.

Grian stares at Scar.

“It's just a little thing.” Scar holds his fingers millimetres apart to emphasize his point.

Grian maintains his steady glare at him. Scar attempts to pull a sad puppy-dog face, earning himself a snort from the avian.

“Fine.” Grian groans, rolling his eyes.

“If it’s any help, I'm glad you look better than you did back then. Cooler, even. Not all beat up and soggy.” Scar says sweetly.

“That doesn't really help at all- for any reason-”

“No, I mean, like- your wings, they look all- fuller? Fluffy.” Scar adds, for lack of a better word. He watches as Grian’s face turns bright red. He doesn’t normally get described as ‘fluffy’.

“I- They're not pin feathers anymore- you mean.” He stammers, completely flustered.

“Oh- pin feathers?” Scar asks, curiously. He’s not too familiar with avian biology.

“It's like a waxy sheath that covers new feathers when they grow-” He cuts himself off, waving his hand as he stops the tangent.

“Anyway! We agreed not to bring it up!" He pouts, annoyed at how quickly he forgot his own rule.

Grian hastily finishes folding all the unused bandages back into their box, leaving a small pile of bloody gauze behind in the sand.

Scar stares at them, blinking slowly as he fends off his own adrenaline crash. Grian looks back at the Vindicator sympathetically.

“So, rest.” He offers.

“Rest.” Scar confirms absently.

“I'll be first watch.”

“You sure?” Scar looks over him. It had been Grian who first brought up the idea of resting, hours ago.

Grian just shrugs in response, turning away. “Yeah, I got this. You're the injured one.”

Not wanting to argue, Scar complies, shuffling down until he's lying across the sand. Grian quietly settles into a more comfortable position too, pulling his wings out in front of him. He runs his talons through the feathers, quickly preening the particularly dishevelled spots.

After a while, Grian peers back over at Scar, who is quietly snoring. He fell asleep remarkably quickly. His jacket is rolled up as a pillow— it doesn’t look particularly comfortable, but it’s not like they have any alternatives. Grian watches and waits, double-checking that Scar is fully asleep, slowly making noise with his feathered tail to test him.

Once he’s confident he won’t wake Scar, he turns his back to him and pulls back out his healing supplies.

Cautiously, he slips his sleeve over his shoulder, unbuckling his armour slightly. He gets as good of a look at his shoulder as he can. Blood clots the thick fabric, but thankfully, it must have helped to temporarily bandage the wound, preventing most of it from bleeding through. Not that it would have been easy to spot on the red fabric if it had. Grian winces as he tugs on the dried blood slightly. The wound looks exactly like Scar’s, albeit with more congealed blood. It was a good idea to get a closer look at Scar's injury, he thinks. This confirms his suspicions.

He sighs, reaching for the wipes and dressing, tending to his own hidden wounds until he can clip his armour back in place, the bandages hidden underneath. He frequently checks Scar’s status, who lies completely still, fast asleep.

He leans back against the walls of the cavern, wrapping his wings around himself for comfort. It’s not freezing temperatures, but the air has definitely cooled significantly since the sun dipped below the horizon. Even now the sky refuses to turn fully black, a soft orange glow shining from where the sun had disappeared, basking the world in a reddish hue.

His gaze falls on the sad, broken remains of the phantoms from earlier. He’s got a feeling they’re not going to be the only challenge put in place for them here. He’ll wake Scar up in an hour or so, so he can get his own opportunity to sleep through the rest of this short night.

For now, he sits, and watches.

#stareater au #life series au #grian #gtwscar #desertduo #cw violence #cw injury #cw blood #trafficblr

[angelsanarchy]

One Long Weekend: - Clyde/YN One-Shot Series CH 02

"Fuck does this mean you get to taser me?" "100 Percent."

FRIDAY 10:30PM

Y/n stood at the foot of the stage taking photos of the metal band currently occupying the stage. Luckily they brought a crowd of headbangers rather than full violent moshing or else the photo quality would suffer. Baby had promised a few hundred bucks for some promotional photos for the local venues and after the rent hike, she could use the extra cash.

Tonight had been different than most. Usually she was strictly business, bouncing from one venue to the next getting the photos taken and crawling into bed at 2AM just to have Baby blowing up her phone for the images before she's even had a chance to get real sleep. Tonight she finally got a chance to meet the shaggy haired, stoner who seemed to travel with one of the local bands. She had thought maybe he was blind at one point with how he stared blankly at her but one of the bartenders assured her that he was pretty harmless, if not a pain in the ass.

"Hey Y/N, you staying for the next couple of bands? We've got some new guys coming in." The bartender knew Baby and had kind of taken me under their wing while I was working these jobs. Bartenders and bouncers seemed to really enjoy her company.

"I might stay for a few. I don't have anymore pressing items on my agenda so I might as well." Y/n packed up her camera and sat on a stool for at least two more performers before bidding farewell to the bartender and heading towards whatever commotion that was trapped at the front door. The owner of the venue had been arguing with someone, cussing loudly at him and telling him that he was banned.

"Oh don't be such a soft dick! I promise not to jump off the tables...much." The voice is what caught her attention.

"Tony! Hey Tony!" Y/n yelled trying to get the attention of the bouncer.

"STAY THE FUCK OUT!" The club owner shoved Clyde out the door and throwing his hands up as he told off the band he traveled with. Johnny tried to plead his case while she squeezed past and saw Clyde on his hands and knees.

"I deserved that." Clyde was trying to peel himself off the pavement. He looked up and met her gaze with a stupid grin.

"That's my girlfriend." Clyde stumbled forward putting his hands on her shoulders.

"In your dreams kid." Tony scoffed.

"Where have you fucking been?" Clyde whispered.

"I didn't get the bat signal that I would need to be peeling you off the sidewalk. That's clearly my fault." Y/n put rested her hand on Clyde's.

"Oh come on Y/n! You aren't really with these guys are you?" Tony whined as the rest of the band shuffled out. They all looked a little dejected.

"Unfortunately Tony, I do. I'm going to need to cash in on that favor. Can you talk to Pete for me? See if you can get them back in to play a set? Even if it's just tomorrow?" Johnny looked at Clyde who's mouth hung open.

"I can give it a try but this is your only favor. No more freebies." Tony shook his head before shaking Johnny's hand.

"Wow um I love Clyde's stalkee. Thank you!" Johnny reached out and pulled y/n into a hug.

"No problem. Crowd is better on Saturday anyway. Just try and keep this one from getting me put on the banned list." Clyde put his hand on his heart.

"Johnny, I told you she wants to have my little deaf babies." Johnny laughed.

"You better make sure she isn't trying to make babies with anyone with both functioning ears first bud." The van pulled up and the band started loaded it up with their gear.

"You gonna be okay to get home?" Y/n asked seeing Clyde stumbling over to her again.

"What answer would get you to come with us?" Clyde tested.

"I mean I know your boyfriend...or girlfriend or they-friend is probably waiting up-" She cut Clyde off.

"I'm not seeing anyone actually but I should probably get home. This is the first night I'll make it to the motor-rail before it closes for the night." Clyde seemed amused.

"What? No! You can't take the train. Come hang out for a bit and then I can drive you home. It's the least I can do for helping the guys out." Clyde tossed his thumb back towards the van as they finished loading it up.

"Honestly I don't know that I trust you to drive me anywhere right now. You're a little loose on your feet." Clyde swayed a bit as he stood in front of her.

"Even more of a reason to come with. I will let you drive. I'm already deaf, do you really want me to be cripple too?" Clyde showed y/n the hearing aid fitted to his ear. She could smell the weed on him when he swayed towards her. She didn't have anywhere to be for the rest of the night and its not like anyone was waiting at home.

"Fuck it. Who am I to let you crash and burn on a perfectly good long weekend." Y/n held her hand out for the keys and Clyde bounced on his feet, handing the keys over.

"Every weekend is a long weekend if you try hard enough." Clyde hopped into the passenger seat.

"Some of us have weekday jobs, sweetheart." Y/n slammed the driver door shut and looked back at the band.

"Guys, this is my new wife Y/n. Y/n these are the guys. They're all stupid fuckers but they play killer music." Clyde introduced her to the band and they threw empty bottles and trash at his introduction.

"It's a pleasure. If one of you can give me a coherent address, I will get you all there in one piece." Y/h promised firing up the van.

"310 W. Utah. It's the really shitty brick apartments on the corner of Tracy Park and Violet Ridge." Clyde said sitting back in the seat. She knew where that was. It was actually about 45 minutes from her apartment if there wasn't any traffic.

Y/n started to pull away from the curb and immediately the horn started blaring.

"Did you fuckers rig my steering wheel again?" Clyde whined returning the trash that was thrown at him.

"Just try not to use the turn signals. These idiots think it's funny when they mess with the only guy who has a van big enough to transport their shit for free." Clyde gave them the finger before reaching across y/n and flipping the signal off.

"No turning signals. Got it. I'm sure the Vegas residence are accustom to it by now." Clyde laughed at the joke as she drove.

"Does your deafness have a great story worth teasing you over or were you born with it?" Y/n asked. Clyde seemed surprised she bothered asking.

"No it's not too recent but I definitely wasn't born with it. You'll have to dig a little deeper for that story though." Clyde smirked. Y/n rolled her eyes with a snort.

"Always a give and take with you." She remarked.

"Hey I can always tell you and waste your payback for saving my ass but then how would you get home?" Clyde teased.

"Oh I won't need a ride home but I already have plans for that payback so by all means, please keep that story in the cards." Y/n kept her eyes on the road and her hands on the wheel as Clyde sighed.

"Fuck, you're gonna taser me aren't you?" Clyde turned his body towards her and she nodded.

"Oh 100%." Y/n's response made Clyde run his hands down his face.

The guys in the back of the van started laughing and ribbing Clyde about being tasered and he swatted at them.

"How are you going to tase a deaf guy? Isn't that like kicking a kid in a wheelchair?" Clyde offered.

"Absolutely not. One is a dick move and the other is for amusement. Besides I wear a night guard when I sleep but you don't see me using it as a crutch." Y/n said confidently.

"Having straight teeth and being down an entire ear are hardly a fair comparison." Clyde was drawn to her sassy nature and quick to joke sense of humor. Even if she had plans to taser him.

"We've all got our baggage. You'll live." She looked over at Clyde and he caught her wink. Fuck was he in trouble.

#electrick children #Clyde x y/n #y/n series #One shot series #Rory Culkin #Honestly did NOT expect the positive reviews of this #Thank you :) #I want to try and post these every other day #if you want me to add you to a tags for these posts let me know #One Long Weekend Series #2/18

[citrus-soju]

I already talked about it in this post, but I want to share all of my thoughts properly.

The Metal Masked Assassin (I'll refer to him as MMA) was an incredibly unlucky person when you think about it. His mother passed away right after he was born. It's assumed she either died of blood loss due to birth complications, or she might have even been murdered, due to her baby being born with albinism.

We don't know anything about his father's whereabouts, if he's alive or dead, if he would take his children in if he knew. Either way, he's not in the picture. But unluckily, MMA was "left a brother".

Logically, we can put together that MMA's brother was older than him. We don't know for sure how many years the two siblings were apart, though. Judging by the picture of them as teens, their age difference doesn't appear to be too great. Of course, MMA might simply be tall, even as a teenager, and looking older than he really is.

There's also a possibility that, while both of them are depicted as teenagers in this picture, Agent 216 was actually already an adult while MMA was still young. It would make more sense for authorities to leave an infant in the care of a relative who's over at least 16 years old than leaving two young children completely on their own.

We can only speculate about their childhood years, honestly, since there is not much known at all. They could have been adopted by a distant relative, placed in a foster family, given up for adoption... But one thing is for sure, just from looking at these pictures - Even as teenagers, they were already prone to violence, and already hiding their faces.

Perhaps they got by thanks to armed robberies, perhaps they were already training to be assassins at this age. Personally, I'm voting for the first option, just because their clothes appear to be in a bad condition, holes and all, which is not the case in the image depicting them as adults. Their weapon of choice is also quite different; the bat and axe being more commonly used for self protection or work, and the machete/knife looking much more professional.

But now to the part I've been wanting to talk about.

Let's start with what we know about Agent 216. According to General Crozier, he is a "trained killer". That means, someone, or some kind of organization, must have taken him under their wing and taught him the art of being an assassin at some point. At least as a teenager. It's never specified where the two assassins got their education from. But however and wherever they spent their youth; Agent 216 was most likely the more skilled assassin, considering he's the one the General confides in and claims to be "perfect".

Ah yes, General Crozier. At least as an adult, Agent 216 must have some sort of connection to the US Military, or at least General Crozier directly, since it's him who personally hires him, and then informs MMA about his death later. No other tribunal members are present, nor are they aware that he was hired to kill, not just to spy.

What I find really interesting is that Agent 216 has a tattoo of the FalconBack Project logo on his left arm. Whatever that means. It makes me wonder if he and Crozier have some kind of connection outside of the deal, and if the assassination attempt on Dethklok was more of a personal favor to the General instead of a one time deal. Whatever connection they have was apparently meaningful enough for Agent 216 to get involved in a top secret project led by Salacia himself - but not his younger brother.

This raises a whole bunch of questions, but that's for another day and another post.

So where is MMA in all this? Where was he in all this?

While MMA is a violent person and seemingly has a passion for murder, what stood out to me is that he is never actually seen involved in any assassination related jobs that don't directly involve avenging his dead brother in a way - besides that one time where he's introduced. The people he fixates on besides Dethklok themselves are Klokateers and Charles Ofdensen, in particular. Perhaps that can simply be blamed on MMA's lack of screen time, but I would leave it up to Brendon Small to consider any small detail.

MMA appears to be as goal driven and determined as he is violent, with only a single goal in mind throughout the entire series - avenging Agent 216, regardless of what it may cost. He's willing to dispose of anyone who gets in his way, including his allies (Magnus).

What I'm thinking is... what if he wasn't even a blade for hire before the death of his brother? What if the only reason why Crozier was able to "hire" him was because of his promise for revenge? What if Agent 216 was the "actual" assassin among them, while MMA was more or less a sick and dependent child who simply got caught up in the situation?

This sounds farfetched but hear me out.

Regardless of how they grew up, regardless of what led up to this point; MMA's older brother was clearly very dear to him. So dear, in fact, that avenging him consumed every bit of space on his mind. While MMA willingly recruited people to assist him in his cause, for the most part, he used people who felt wronged by Dethklok for his own gain. Instead of viewing them as likeminded individuals, he saw them as underlings. Even Magnus, who did most of the "negotiating" during DSR, treated Toki's wounds and fed him, was just a puppet to MMA in the end. Once Magnus didn't cooperate with him anymore (claiming that the death of Ishnifus "wasn't part of his plan"), MMA didn't hesitate to show who's the REAL mastermind behind it all ("this was never your plan").

Throughout the series, we definitely saw that MMA has a tendency to use people for his benefit, and discard them once they're no longer useful to him, without any consideration for their feelings, or even their lives. We also learn that he's not much of a "talker" and much rather a "do-er". He leaves all the talking to Magnus, who dramatically goes off to Toki and Abigail about his reasoning, while MMA is in the background only thinking about revenge and his brother.

He seems to do very poorly with things not going his way. He doesn't listen to instructions from Crozier. He refuses to let Magnus berate him. Like a child, he no longer wants to play the game if it's not by his rules.

This is acquired behavior. Which means, somebody taught him that this is the way to go through live. Most likely - his older brother.

While he clearly holds a lot of admiration for Agent 216, it makes me wonder. The contrast between how much he looks up to his brother and how much he looks down on other human beings is stark. It's almost like he looks up to his brother like he's some kind of God leading him on his path, even displaying his body during the torture of Toki and Abigail. He MIGHT just be a crazy dude with a lust for blood who saw an excuse to kill and torture. He MIGHT just be very obsessed with the only person he has a real connection with.

Or perhaps, his brother isn't the good person he views him as.

I believe Agent 216 might have always made MMA feel inferior to him, knowingly or not. Being labeled the "perfect" assassin, the older brother who was kind enough to raise an abandoned baby, the one fending for them. Plus, with MMA having some visible physical deformities, he most likely was the "better looking" one, too.

Perhaps the reason why MMA isn't seen assassinating anyone for other reasons than revenge is that his brother simply took the spotlight. In the best case, Agent 216 merely wanted to protect MMA from this kind of lifestyle, both because he's his little brother who he cared for, as well as considering Albinism comes with a long list of potential health issues, depending on the exact diagnosis. Examples are vision problems, ranging from nystagmus (rapid uncontrollable eye movements) to legal blindness, sensitivity to (sun)light in both eyes and skin, a weaker immune system, a higher risk of infections, premature aging, etc.

Or perhaps all these things were a lot of excuses for Agent 216 to treat his little brother harshly and cast him into the shadows.

Tidbits that made me put this together in my mind would be, for example, the fact that MMA is covered in scars, while Agent 216 is not. Strange, considering that his targets are mostly seen tied up, hanging from hooks or otherwise immobilized. And somehow, all these scars look the same. They all look as if they were inflicted by... a machete perhaps.

In early concept art, MMA is shown with what appears to be burn marks. They almost look as if they were deliberately inflicted on him. The spotting doesn't exactly appear like he got caught in a fire, much rather that they came from separate instances.

And one more thing, which might just be an observation I made that you might disagree with. But as someone who worked with both abused and disabled children in the past... I recognize some of his patterns and behaviors.

Looking up to the one person caring for him without even a second thought. Enduring great pain for their sake. HAPPILY doing so. Not being great at dealing with instructions. Not handling it well when someone disagrees with him or even scolds him. Letting the "adult Magnus" do the talking for him in difficult situations. Struggling to relate to people, perhaps even due to low emotional intelligence, or simply not understanding that people have feelings. Not CARING if they have feelings, possibly. Using people for his benefit, then discarding them like dolls he's done playing with once they're not useful anymore.

All acquired behaviors somebody taught him in his life.

Considering his condition, harsh upbringing and visible deformities, it wouldn't surprise me if he was a younger age mentally. His behavior is almost childlike in ways. The way he phrases things, too. Revengencers, instead of Revengers. The fact that he has these scars, yet his brother didn't have a single one on him.

This might be a reach. A big reach. But what if Agent 216 had him completely wrapped around his finger. All like "I had to endure so much for your sake, so I have a right to take my anger out on you", and perhaps followed up by an "I do this because I love you and because that's the only way you learn". I can see him making MMA feel inferior, for his appearance, for needing food, medication, comfort. Guilty for "killing" their mother. For being a burden. How dare he want love. Isn't it enough that he puts his life on the line for him every day? What is love? Baby don't hurt me

To me, he's a lost, disabled person stuck in a trauma bond with his brother until the end.

#metalocalypse #mtl #metal masked assassin #mma #agent 216 #general crozier #headcanons #analysis #character analysis #media analysis #magnus hammersmith

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 42: In Which The Daylight Is Dawning Pt. 3

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

::!TW!:: Depiction of self harm, but not in an unaliving way.

The concrete was still wet but it was setting quickly.

Without thinking twice you rushed past everyone in your way and dug your fingers into the mixture, prying and pulling and digging with all your might, but it was so thick and cold it was freezing your fingers. The bite of that icy cold was rendering your efforts to stall.

A large hand grabbed your forearm gently and pulled you back.

"It's ok, just relax," Karl assured you, a crooked smile meeting your visage full of panic, "I brought my favorite toys!" He exclaimed, dropping the huge bag off his shoulder, "explosives! Never know when you need 'em, right hot shot?"

Somehow his lack of, or refusal to show worry and concern helped calm your nerves for the most bizarre unknown reason. He seemed so sure of himself and it was comforting. At least someone was.

You were about to respond to Karl but Angie came flying down the stairs like a bat out of hell, which shocked you because you don't remember her disappearing at all.

"We gotta blow the fuckin' door NOW!!" She yelled, nearly slamming into Donna to stop herself, "I just came from the control room - " she paused and flashed her hands covered in blood, "mutants - the sun is already entering the silo! They have 10 minutes tops!"

Everything around you became unintelligible as they all began to speak at once. You sank into yourself as something else grabbed control of the wheel. A sudden flood of warmth ensnared you and your eyes shot up.

"The setup takes time and care! These bombs aren't ready-made - this isn't fuckin' McDonalds!!" Karl shouted, "If I blow this willy nilly the whole motherfuckin' tower might collapse!

"Are the tops of the silos accessible above ground?" you inserted quickly, "I can try to block out the sun from up there, buy us all some time."

There was really only a split second everyone was silently looking at you, then Karl sprung a giant grin on his face.

"She's a fuckin' genius, I know why Alcina likes her - c'mon fairy wings, let's go!"

Karl shoved everything he was holding in Dmitri's arms and patted him roughly on the shoulder, "you 'member the schematics, right? Lefty-loosey, righty-tighty, all that jazz, just don't push the splodey button until the amp light goes blue!"

You had no idea what the fuck he was talking about but you sure hoped Dmitri did, because Karl offered no more explanation or clarification and was grabbing your arm and hauling you through more of the underworld maze before you could blink.

Everything was in utter disarray as the two of you scrambled through the tunnels and corridors and passageways galore. There was plenty of carnage along the way too; dead bodies (mainly mutants to your relief) were splayed about here and there, the evident battle a chilling reminder that you were a very mortal being in a very deadly environment. Still, your mind was occupied with Alcina more than anything. The haste to squeeze every last drop out of every second to make them count giving you unwavering focus now.

Would there be anything to actually cover the silo opening? 

Would you be too late?

The thoughts had to come to a screeching halt as a very rickety metal ladder now faced you and Karl to the top of the particular part of this run down old building.

"Up ya go, sugar. That door to the left of the platform takes us right to the roof of the building."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Without further delay you took to the ladder and climbed, not bothering to wait for Karl, though he was right behind you. You ran down the even wobblier metal mesh platform and shoved your way through the almost rusted shut door, falling out into the bright sunlight. It was blinding and you covered your eyes as you eagerly searched for the silo top, finding it not too far off to the right of where you'd entered.

Karl was already on his way there and you followed, finding there to be a thick metal grate welded to the top of the wide silo opening. While this would make it easier to place things on to seal out the sun from below, you needed to find something to put there.

Your eyes couldn't help to gaze down the long dark tunnel below. You so wanted to be able to take time to see if you could see Alcina but this was the last time and place to doddle. 

Karl was already running about on the roof, looking for anything that he might be able to use for a shield against the sun, but there was barely anything worth having.

Displaced 2x4's, scrap metal not larger than a few feet wide or long, and the flooring to the roof was too secure to rip up either.

The sun was progressing. You were not.

As you were about to splay yourself over the grate, which really was far too large for just your body to make a difference, you heard and felt a familiarity come swooping in.

Your crows came cawing and flapping, landing next to you on the broad edge of the silo. 

You almost cried. 

Ebony was the first to hop to you and eye you curiously as if waiting for instruction.

"C-can you - can you all cover this and stop the sunlight from getting through down below?" 

Without so much as a pause, Ebony and the other five crows hopped onto a piece of rebar that made up the grate, spread their wings meticulously and created the most perfect make-shift wing umbrella you'd ever seen, completely blocking out all sunlight from below.

Several tears of relief went strolling down your freezing cheeks and you smiled, "thank you, thank you!" you whimpered, reaching out without thinking to stroke each of their heads with love and appreciation. In turn, to your surprise, you received tiny coos and purrs.

"I'll yell up to you from below when you can leave - thank you! I owe you all the croissants!"

A clatter pushed you back to the present and you looked behind you. Karl was standing there with the most 'what the literal fuck is happening' look on his face. The clattering seemed to be the large bit of scrap metal he had found somewhere along the line falling to the roof from his grasp. He just stood there, cock-eyed and slack-jawed.

There was little time for gawking. You rushed back over to him, wrapping your arms over your chest as the awareness of how damn cold it was up there smacked you across the face.

"The fuck was that?!" he blurted as the silent agreement to head back to the underground was put to action.

"Uh, well, they're my friends?" 

Yeah it sounded weird but you were literally talking to a lycan so, this was the farthest from the strangest thing that's ever happened in your life.

Karl chuckled loudly as he slammed the door behind him and the scaling of the ladder began once more. He grabbed the comm at his hip and radioed Dmitri, "you're clear to blow the son of a bitch, we, er fae-bae here got the top covered!"

"Copy. Charge still setting." 

"I'm gunna really look forward to getting to know you, bird-whispering fairy child - you are interesting as fuck," Karl mused as he led you back through the labyrinth of the underground.

You couldn't help but give him a look as he gave you a glance of his own, "fae-bae?" you inquired with a raised eyebrow.

He cackled, "get used to it; nicknames are my specialty. You outta hear some of the ones I have for your woman."

Your woman. 

Yes, she was your woman and you were hers. Even in this dire circumstance that gave you a blanketing warmth. And so many flooding emotions came from this and the enveloping of it was giving you more strength to carry on. This tidal wave of memories and feelings weaved through you and sewed you together for whatever lie ahead; you were ready; you were ready.

"Somehow I'm sure she has plenty for you as well; I may or may not have heard a few," you tested playfully.

"Oh yeah?" he asked just as the two of you were turning down another corridor, unfortunately being met with a rogue mutant far from the herd.

Karl's reflexes kicked in immediately and he shoved you out of the way into the neighboring wall, drew his gun as he kicked the mutant in the chest and began to blast. But it didn't go down as fast as the others had. It rose and charged Karl again. This time it was met by Karl's large fist to the face, the butt of the gun to the top of its head, and as soon as he put more distance between them, shot at it again and again. It only snarled and shrieked with rage and lunged once more.

You took this moment to test your magick, just to be sure you had the grip on it like you felt you did.

While Karl was almost getting bested in this fight, you hunkered down on the floor against the wall and held out your palms, focusing on the mutant with the need to protect, like you had with Malka. And you'll be damned if it didn't start to slow down, sputter, and stall as the sensation of prickly stinging numbness flowed through you. 

As Karl went to make his final blow with a gun barrel between the eyes, you saw the blood swelling in the mutant's eyelids before the bang went off.

It dropped like a bag of rocks and you smirked wickedly.

Yes, you were very much in control. Good. Because you wholeheartedly planned on killing Mother Miranda as soon as you had the chance.

You were slowly uncrouching from your spot when you realized Karl was yet again looking at you like you had become a tiny green alien in the last five seconds.

"Wh - what - the fuck? D-did you help me, did you do that??? Is that what you did to Mother Miranda? Do you just like - fry bodily circuitry or some shit?!"

You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious, "I'm not entirely sure? I don't know what my magick does exactly. My friend calls it 'mind EMP'."

Karl burst out laughing and holstered his gun, offering his arm to you as you both stepped over the dead body, "Hoooly heyseuss kreestoose! We need a couple hundred of you to keep around; you're useful in a fight. Keep your bag of tricks handy, just don't mind EMP any of my bombs or electronics, ok?"

Your surroundings were becoming more familiar as the disjunct conversation was becoming quieter, and as the two of you made it down the same set of stairs you came in, you heard Dmitri's voice holler; "Charge is hot - cover!".

A loud pop echoed followed by a sharp bang that stung your ears, followed by a reverberating miniature shock wave that knocked you into the wall.

The view was a relief to your whole system.

Through the small puff of rising smoke and settling dust, the archway that had been sealed up was open and the entry inside was dark.

Donna was the first to climb over and through the rubble to get inside, Dmitri second, Angie remained outside the debris grinning like a mad-woman as she saw the two of you approach. You were set to head in as well but Karl grabbed you and held you steady.

"Hold on, let them bring her out."

He said as if he could read your damn mind.

From inside the hollow dark silo you could hear muffled, raspy female voices barely conversing with Donna. Several clangs and what seemed to be chains dropping to the stone floor echoed through, and then shuffling as Alcina's three girls were brought out first.

You'd heard Alcina talk about them at length, and even as defeated and worn as they looked, they were even more beautiful still than Alcina had described to you. Several bickering emotions decided to show their faces, but being overtaken by fear, uncertainty, and like the weird boyfriend mom brings home after divorcing dad and trying to make nice with the kids was not something you could deal with. This was not your place at all.

They were too tired to notice you anyway, and Donna had immediately dug through her bag and handed each of them what you deduced to be bags of blood to drink.

Everyone's attention now lie at the mouth of the silo once more, bated breaths waiting for Alcina's arrival.

Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest and through you whole body you felt like you were actually pulsing. Time felt so stupidly slow as you waited, as everyone waited, until Dmitri emerged with a limp, bloodied, grey-skinned Alcina in his arms.

Your feet molded to the ground. You couldn't force your muscles to move. She looked in a way you never ever wanted to see; dead.

Her once cream colored blouse was shredded and stained with crimson. Her skin slashed and gouged from each whip lashing. Dried blood covered her upper body, down her arms, splattered haphazardly around her neck, and some of her very sunken face. 

Everything fell to the pit of your stomach. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't think. The shock of what you were looking at immobilized you.

Dmitri carefully laid her down on the ground. You realized then how quiet it was as every little sound of the shuffling of fabric against skin and stone was almost violently loud in your ears.

The state of Alcina's shirt gave her barely a hint of modesty in its tatters, the very stark contrast of her black bra glaring against the cream, grey and red. And you could see then a very deep, ugly wound just below her sternum. A stab wound. One that gave you an ill remembrance of a story she once told you, and a scar you can recall all too vividly on her side. You don't know how you knew, but you knew.

Donna was immediately retrieving another bag of blood, hooking a tube to the opening at the top, hunkering down at Alcina's side and carefully placing the article to her dry, thin parted lips. She began to squeeze the liquid from the bag as her daughters gathered around their mother as the blood was administered.

Cassandra and Daniela held tightly to Alcina's hands as Bela propped her head and upper body up to help the blood flow down her throat.

You were frozen in your place. Still barely breathing. Making deals with unknown deities for your lover's recovery.

Karl sensed your disconcerted demeanor and carefully wrapped his arm around your mid back and pushed you forward so you could see.

Still, you could hardly move or force a reaction as the painful suspense dug its claws into your heart.

If she died, or was already gone, you could not fathom what the future would even look like.

You could not fathom a world... your world... without her in it.

Through the deep concentration of draining bag after bag of blood into their Matriarch, Donna thoroughly checked Alcina's forehead, throat, cheeks, and chest for something you couldn't understand. Warmth, maybe? Any sign of life? And the more this went on the worse the lines became in Donna's lovely face.

"It's not... it's not changing her state," she blurted, quite upset, tossing another empty bag with contempt across the hall, "her blood loss is too great, I don't have enough reserves with us to help her the way she needs - we need to get her to a medical bay immediately."

"The city is far too overrun and we have no idea where Mother Miranda is, the risk is not in our favor."

"She will die if we don't!" Donna barked at Dmitri's warning, "our options are none as it stands right now; it is either the risk or her death - what's it going to be?"

Donna, Dmitri, the three girls and Karl had a duel of exchanged silent looks until you couldn't stand the feeling of uncomfortable electricity sparking in your nervous system.

"Does anybody have a knife?" you asked, splitting the quiet, gaining everyone's attention, "My blood might help."

Donna blinked rapidly, "I've already given her six packs - she needs intravenous blood administration - "

"That blood isn't my blood. I'm not human, remember?"

Before another word could be exchanged, the sound of a switchblade flinging open could be heard and Angie stepped closer to the group, brandishing a sharp, shiny blade.

"Hi! Middle name's shiv, or shank," she grinned wildly, "er, should be anyway."

"Everybody move back," Cassandra chimed in, nodding at you briskly, "please, try."

The tension could not have been any tighter as you stepped forward and grabbed the knife from Angie, swiftly and precisely kneeling down next to Alcina as you rolled your sleeve up as far as it would go over your elbow. The sight of her this close made her condition all the more dire and you quickly placed the blade to the vein in the crook of your elbow and punctured it. Bela propped Alcina as close to you as she could; you placed the spilling blood to her lips, and grasped her freezing cold shoulder for more support; Donna held to the other side of your arm to alleviate stress to the blood flow, and you all knelt there in great anticipation as the seconds ticked on. You so wanted to wrap her up in your arms and care for her like you would in your apartment, but you didn't dare in front of everyone, especially her daughters. You had to put on a strong, distant front.

Your arm began to ache as you were starting to feel a coolness set in, but you closed your eyes and held fast. You could smell the thick metallic of her dried blood all over her and it made you wince, thinking about the pain she must have endured, and how badly you wanted to make them all pay for this. It was consuming how violent you felt inside. 

After at least a minute, which felt more like fifteen, you felt a warmth engulf the crook of your elbow; Alcina's tongue.

Looking over almost dizzyingly quick, you could see her eyelids fluttering and a smile burst across your face. You let go of your breath and held even tighter to Alcina as you felt her begin to drink voluntarily, her shoulder was no longer freezing cold and something even warmer than her tongue sprung loose inside you.

"It's working." You said softly, hearing the rest of the collective sighs of relief echo through the area.

Where Alcina had been in the dark, bleak confines of her mind before she felt life tingling inside her again was a place she didn't wish to return to. While everything was still in slow motion, she could comprehend the beautiful sensation of the hot, rich, satisfying blood that was coursing through her mouth and down her throat as yours. What a way to come back from the brink of nothingness. Her strength was slowly waxing and her senses began to creep up, but the wounds she had endured were becoming more and more fitful in the fight to heal. Your blood was vigorous and relentless and Alcina knew when the dam burst, the pain and brutal retaking of her body would be unpleasant at best.

And that moment was now.

Like an army breaking through battle lines, Alcina's body, at the mercy and aid of your blood, began to heal and reanimate itself with ferocity. Yanking her head back from wherever she had been feeding off you, Alcina cried out as the excruciating sensation of being reborn pummeled every sense in her body. It burned. It itched. It spasmed. It cracked and broke and then spilled out and over into a soothing warmth and numbness as some normalcy seeped back in.

With fluttering lids, she opened her eyes to see every face that was near and dear to her heart.

You. Her daughters. Donna. Dmitri. Angie. And, yes, even Heisenberg.

Bela, with the help of her sisters, scooted Alcina back towards the wall and sat her upright there. The three of them fawned over her through quiet whimpering relief as they clung to her with secure embraces.

"Shhh, Sunt aici. Sunt aici," she cooed, "iubitele mele, suntem cu toții aici."

(Shhh... I'm here. I'm here - my loves, we are all here.)

As you were being aided by Donna quickly wrapping your arm with a tight bandage, Alcina's slate colored eyes found yours and she offered you the most endearing smile you think you had ever seen in your life. It was a knowing smile. A proud smile. A smile that wordlessly said thank you in a way no language on the planet could express.

"Looong live The Real HBIC!" Angie shouted, accompanied by a short celebratory dance, "Woooooo yeah! That's what I'm talkin' 'bout! Now when the fuck can we go kick the rest of the smelly ass down here?!"

Well, the tender moment was short lived.

"Ang, please," Donna huffed, trying her best to stifle her smile, "Alcina still needs more nourishment and we need the rest of a plan."

"I'm with Angie," Karl butted in, giving Alcina a tip of his hat, "we got hot shot mind melter and our Matriarch back, let's go whoop some ass."

It wasn't so much bickering as it was very energetic clashing of ideas, but as they all spoke above you animatedly, you and Alcina once more stole calm, loving glances at the other through Donna shoving more blood bags in her face to drink and her daughters clinging to her for dear life, until a clobbering sound from the other stairwell shot everything into a halt.

Unceremoniously came a plump, sheepishly hunched figure from the shadows.

Salvatore Moreau slowly slipped into the light and the sound that followed had everyone rattled to the bone.

The throaty, shrill shriek had come from none other than Donna herself.

The tiny brunette had sprung from the floor and charged the vampire in question, pinning him to the wall as she bore her teeth in utter fury; "TRAITOR!" She screamed, her hand around his throat with nails threatening to pierce his flesh, "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS WITH YOUR LIFE! I KNOW YOU AIDED MIRANDA - I KNOW YOUR FILTHY LITTLE HANDS HAVE BEEN ALL OVER THIS TREACHERY AND I PROMISE TO MAKE YOU PAY FOR EVERY DISCRETION UNDER THE SUN!"

During Donna's rage, Angie had donned perhaps the most psychotic look of glee any of them had ever seen. Even Karl was a little unnerved as he watched the whole thing unfold. Alcina had risen from the floor, and she too had now a look of murder on her stoic face. Dmitri had joined her side and you were watching quite unsure what to do with yourself next to the wall. 

"Please!" He squeaked, holding up his hands shakily, "Please, just wait! I have information! Information about Miranda! The mutants! I come in truce!! I have information you need if you want to win this war!"

Donna snarled even louder as she sunk her claws into his neck, "Why should I believe you?!"

"Because! Because! I - I realize - I realize I made a huge mistake! I chose the wrong side! PLEASE you must trust me!"

Karl carefully and hesitantly nudged the deranged looking Angie, "you uh... wanna do something about your sister?"

Angie's big eyes glanced at Karl momentarily, "oh... oh yeah!"

And she was off like a bolt, knife in hand accompanied by a cackle.

"No, n-not like that!" he huffed, dropping his head to rub at at exasperatedly, "I meant to stooop her from killing him, not help - oh Jesus fucking Christ what's the use." he muttered to himself.

Now Salvatore was at the mercy of two very deadly Beneviento sisters. His face showed every ounce of his dread as his big beady eyes shot from one sister's face to the next, knees quivering as he swallowed with struggle. 

"P-please, please, listen... I want to help," he swallowed once more through Donna's claws and Angie's knife pressed to his jugular.

Donna was still seething but paused, taking time to calculate and reason with her own rage before clicking her tongue loudly, "Alcina? Your call."

You blinked hastily as you watched with eagerness, noticing the very elegant and nonchalant movements of Alcina as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Bring him to me." 

She commanded with a dominance that made you weak in the knees.

He was yanked from the wall, drug to Alcina and thrown at her feet. He showed no signs of struggle or the urge to flee for his life, which in your humble opinion, would have been a smart move.

Alcina glowered down at him and pursed her lips, looking more and more like herself as the minutes passed.

She placed her hands on her hips swiftly which made him jerk in fear, but she remained unmoved, "it's a little late in the game to be switching sides, don't you think?" she snapped.

"My Lady," he quivered, bowing his head sharply, "please, My Lady, I am a coward and I will not deny it. Mother Miranda offered me falsity. Her lies I thought were truths became apparent the moment she made her move. It is never too late to redeem oneself from the side of tyranny. Please, let me tell you what I know, you will not defeat her otherwise."

"You seem awfully sure of this," Alcina bit.

"That is because, as Donna has said, I have been part of this from the beginning."

Silence permeated the area once more as all focus went to Alcina. Her eyes never left the sniveling man at her feet.

"Then speak."

The next several minutes was a verbal vomit of information that had everyone pretty fucking shocked.

Mother Miranda, in her psychotic search for perfection, had begun breeding and mutating parasites nearly ten years ago to infect fledglings to whatever end to make them into the mindless, deadly, stealth machines that had invaded their city. Salvatore explained her brutal trial and errors and the horrific mutations that had gone wrong and how simply she discarded vampire after vampire like a broken toy. How that when she had perfected the mutation to her liking as it stood now, she infected herself with the queen parasite DNA that gave her the complete control over the hive-mind of the vampires she controlled. When she is at her peak strength and ability, they are the deadliest creatures known to any vampire or lycan imaginable. But therein lies the Achilles heel to this creation.

"I had hypothesized it well enough in my own mind, but it wasn't until I realized you," he stated, nodding to you in the midst of everyone else, "had escaped and in the attempt wounded Mother Miranda, that the so-called hive mind did in fact falter. If Mother Miranda is vanquished, they become unarmed. They will have had their tie to their very reason for existence severed, hence, they will have no direction and they will quite literally be living statues. So, in order to win this fight, you must keep Miranda's strength at a bare minimum. You must keep her down. Otherwise, at full strength, there will be none left alive in the underground."

Once more, Salvatore's eyes returned to you, "whatever you have done to her, she is still recovering. In all my many years of serving Mother, I have never seen any foe deal such damage the way you have," his focus went back to Alcina, "but she is recovering, that is the part that is the most important. If you want to win this you need to act quickly and hastily. Your lycans and vampires have done much damage to many mutants, but at their best, ten of your men cannot best even one of them."

Not even fifteen seconds had passed before Karl was clapping and rubbing his hands together eagerly, "Aight, so, lessss go?" he gestured shamelessly towards the staircase.

"Not without more of a plan," Dmitri growled, "if Miranda is getting stronger we can't run out there guns blazing the way you like it, we'll start losing too many too fast."

Alcina sucked the last drop of blood from the last pack and threw it aside with a sharp sigh, "We haven't the time for planning. I need to find Miranda and bring her down."

"You can't do that alone," Donna added, "please let Angie and I help you."

"No, I need you both in the field - Angie I need your stealthy expertise to be the eyes and ears for the troops, can you do that?"

Angie nodded, "fuck yeah."

"Heisenberg, I need you, your men, and your explosives rigged in the best and most efficient way possible when that bitch begins to falter. Can you do that?"

"Roger!"

"Dmitri, I need you and your men ready to back up the lycans in their wave of attacks and whatever tricks lie in that brilliant military brain of yours, can I count on you?"

"Always, My Lady."

Alcina's eyes skimmed over you with a wink and settled on Donna and her girls, "and you three... I want Ethan and Mia captured. Alive. Make that happen."

Her daughters beamed with a wicked glint in their eyes, "yes mother," they all replied.

"Karl, arm them to the teeth."

Grabbing his chest in the most dramatic way possible, Karl staggered back and looked up at Alcina with a silent gasp, "y-you called me Karl! Oh my god, did y'all hear that? She called me Karl. See that? Near death experiences change a person. It's like she likes me or something."

Alcina narrowed her eyes, "keep it up and I won't like you again."

Karl beamed and straightened his hat.

Donna was still less than sold.

"I don't want you facing her by yourself."

"You'll be doing something much more important for me," Alcina smiled warmly, "you'll be protecting her," she motioned over to you.

You almost did a double take, "uh, sorry, not to be disrespectful but no, I'm coming with you."

"Like hell you are," Alcina retorted furrowing her brows, "this vampire in question is hellaciously unpredictable and deadly -"

"And off her rocker - yeah I know," you interrupted, "we've met personally and I escaped her."

Her face dropped cold, "you what?"

"Yeah, you haven't been brought up to speed!" Karl waltzed over, shouldering you playfully, "your fae-bae here escaped Miranda's sticky lil fingers after mind blasting her ass - pretty impressive if I do say so myself. I got first hand experience with her magick when she helped me fight off a mutant before we came and saved you. I uh, I'd reconsider taking the nuclear bombshell with ya," he winked at you, "two hell cats are better than one, baby! AND she's got a legion of crows at her command or some shit, that's how we blacked out the silo."

"Oh shit!" you exclaimed, remembering you'd not released your crows from their post, "and technically, they're called a murder."

Smirking at Karl you jutted to your right, hopped your way over the rubble of the blown blockade and peered up into the silo. It was still completely dark and you smiled, "you all did wonderful!" you shouted up to them, your voice carrying loud and clear, "thank you Ebony, Ash, Onyx, Noir, Sidda, and Shade! Please get home safely and be warm!"

Their caws echoed down to you and one by one they took to the sky, leaving a remaining brightness from the clear sky now that the sun had passed.

When you returned to the hall, Karl was shaking his head with his arms folded over his chest.

"Named every one of 'em, did ya?"

You returned his grin, "and?"

Alcina's eyes went from Karl to you, back to him and then you again before she was able to really collect herself. There was a lot to digest right at this moment. She had to choose wisely as to what she was ready to take a bite of. The crow issue was last on her list, you and your powers were at the top of it, screaming.

The two of you had only briefly spoken about the changes you were going through before Donna showed up and everything promptly fell apart. She didn't want to believe you had grown so much and she'd missed it all, but she more less wanted to believe you weren't strong enough to go with her, risking your safety if it wasn't necessary.

"Draga..." she stated softly, "this is... this is not a danger I want you anywhere near ever again."

You watched as her hands carefully rested on your shoulders, eying you in that beautifully desperate way.

"Uhm... Mother?" 

Came a voice you'd not heard before.

"Poate nu ar trebui să te îndoiești de ea. Cum ai încredere în noi acum, poate că ar trebui să-i dai la fel." Cassandra stated with a knowing smile.

(Maybe you should not doubt her. As you trust us now, perhaps you should give her the same.)

Man, you needed to learn Romanian.

Whatever her daughter had said gave Alcina great pause. The smile she gave Cassandra made you smile by proxy, it was so genuine and soft.

Taking one last look at you, Alcina dropped her hands and turned to gather everyone's attention.

"I have faith in all of you. Go, quickly. Make this a battle that will be painted in remembrance for whatever outcome lies ahead of us. Let our valiance and spite be known. Violently."

She turned back to Donna and took a deep breath, "I would like you to make use of Moreau. If he makes one move you don't like, kill him. But if he is truly set to redeem himself, use whatever knowledge he has and exploit it to our every advantage."

Donna nodded somberly, "and... you are off to find Miranda?"

"Yes," Alcina smiled, "and I won't be going alone."

Two sets of beautiful eyes from two beautiful women now rested on you.

#alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu/female reader #alcina dimitrescu/original female character #alcina dimitrescu/reader #lesbian #f/f #fanfic #wlw #fic #donna beneviento #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #tw self harm

[maccreadysbaby]

male fo4 companions +arcade & butch (bc I see them on your master list) rank them on being able to take care of a severely injured sole/lone/six?

Okay! this goes from best to worst, I really hope arcade and butch aren’t ooc! I try to do my research on them :)

Ranking Male Companions Taking Care of an Injured Sole/Lone/Six

Arcade is the best for very obvious reasons. It’s his job. As soon as Six is down, he knows what he’s doing and he executes flawlessly. Definitely griping at them while he works, but nonetheless, he gets everything done nice and tidy. Very capable of separating emotions and work, so he won’t have shaky hands or be panicking like some of the others. Will shamelessly call them dumb if they got hurt doing something dumb. He’s glad they’re okay, really, but also don’t be stupid and you won’t get hurt. Will withhold the stupid comments if it was a very serious injury, like they were shot or something.

10/10 - The best male companion to have on hand for Couriers that can’t stop getting hurt. (And his grumbling is entertaining.)

Nick may be a synth, and doesn’t require real first aid, but c’mon, he used to be a policeman! He still remembers most of that aid and is extremely knowledgeable and good at helping. He’s always a little hesitant about things like using his metal hand, but that won’t stop him from helping Sole. Tries to talk to them — distract them, even — and never fails to make them crack at least one smile. Unmatchably gentle, even more so than Preston. Will take them to a real doctor after but they probably won’t need much attention because Nick already covered it all. Can help with things from little scrapes to punctured lungs and does so with deadly accuracy, seems to somehow materialize medical supplies out of nowhere.

10/10 - Probably the most comforting companion to have by Sole’s side when they’re hurt.

Preston may not be a doctor, but he has the heart of a medic buried somewhere deep inside of him from his time with the Minutemen. Also very capable of keeping himself together while helping Sole. Unlike Arcade, when he works, he’s constantly asking Sole if they’re okay, how they’re feeling, what hurts, what else they need from him, etc. Sees them, momentarily, as just another one of his men because he works most efficiently like that. His face stays blank (but at least he doesn’t look angry.) Moves slow and treats them like they’re fragile. He knows surprisingly more first aid than anyone would think, but definitely wants to get them stable and to a real doctor.

10/10 - Good at what he does and unmistakably gentle, with words and first aid, while he does it.

Danse is no stranger to combat aid, though he isn’t the best with less casual, more complex aid. Will definitely be a little more nervous than the others while tending to Sole. Dead silent when he’s working because he’s trying so hard. Gritted teeth and set jaw, rarely muttering things quietly that Sole can’t really make out. Looks kind of angry the whole time just because he’s focusing so hard. But he will do a good job nonetheless, and is incredibly efficient at getting Sole to a real, trustworthy doctor afterwards. They always tell him he did a good job and it never fails to make a little smile quirk up on his little dork face. He’s actually just glad they’re okay.

9/10 - Sole will think he’s mad the whole time but he’s actually just trying really hard.

Deacon is cool as a cucumber on the outside, but internally, he freaks out. Constant rambling and so many jokes. Pretends like he knows what he’s doing but he’s always kinda winging it. He knows general first aid, but nothing major, and he’s really anxious about doing a good job. Probably tries too hard and screws up because he’s trying so hard. Pretends he didn’t screw up. His hands might shake just a little if the injury is particularly bad, but he’ll play it off cool. He ends up covered in blood and looking like he’s the one that was hurt. Looks worse than Sole. Isn’t bad at first aid, but isn’t good at it either?

Drops to a solid 7/10 — At least he pretends to know. Good at easing Sole’s nerves.

MacCready will start crying before he does anything. Can not panic internally. His hands hover, unsure of actually what to do, and shakes like a freaking arthritis patient. He is pretty good at first aid but the shaking and crying gets in the way. Always uses way too much medicine and might make Sole high. Hugely overcompensates, usually not in a good way, trying so hard to help them that he isn’t actually doing much good. He’s just panicking because they’re injured and he couldn’t save Lucy and what if he can’t save them, either? Will forget how to breathe, Sole will have to remind him not to hold his breath if they can. Will probably get dizzy and nauseous if he thinks of losing them. Can and will get it together (eventually) and provide little first aid.

6/10 - The fact that their caretaker is sobbing profusely and looks like he’s gonna pass out is never helpful for the nerves.

Hancock simply isn’t very good at first aid. He’s a ghoul, and his body is different than theirs, responds differently. Is internally crying, screaming, and throwing up. Will offer chems and then backpedal because they don’t need chems they need help. Shaky hands, shaky breaths, will need a hit of something because he can’t stop shaking. His first aid is messy and quick. He jabs them with so many needles they can’t even count them all, and he mumbles to himself under his breath the entire time like some kind of narrator. The thing he’s perhaps best at is locating and getting them to the nearest doctor in record time. Dude goes pedal to the freaking metal. Will stay annoyingly close and ask the doctor questions until they blow a gasket. He just wants his sunshine, the first friend he’s had that wasn’t just casual, to be okay.

5/10 - Sole’s probably incredibly high at the end of it but at least they’re alive, right?

Gage knows first aid, but the moment the overboss is injured, it all flies out the window. He drags them by their hair to someone more equipped for this crap. Probably grumbled at them about getting hurt in the first place. If he absolutely has to help, he is rough and just wants to get it over with and them to someone else. Will mutter under his breath the entire time with that dumb little accent. Incredibly violent with the first aid stuff. Tells them never to do this again because it’s annoying. Probably gets angry at the first aid supplies and throws them across the room or something to that degree, only to go grab them again because he actually needs them. Rolls his eyes a lot. He cares deep down, but he’s gonna give Sole a lot of crap about it for a while.

3/10 - Being reprimanded when you’re bleeding out usually isn’t great for the morale.

Butch has no earthly idea how to perform any more first aid than bandaging up knuckles and icing bruises, let’s be honest. He will definitely be panicking. The second most likely companion to start crying. Not from the past, like MacCready, but because Lone is injured and he doesn’t know what to do, he’s more useless in this situation than an actual bag of bricks and he feels so worthless and why do they even travel with him if he can’t help? Lone, being a doctors child, will probably have to talk him through the first aid step by step like the wikihow. Will get some of it wrong even if they tell him how to do it four or five times. Can’t really see because he’s freaking bawling but will try his best anyway. It’s probably in Lone (and his) best interests if they just go to a doctor.

2/10 - Honestly, not comforting or helpful in the slightest for him to be self-destructing while Lone’s trying to talk him into stitching them up before their organs fall out.

X6-88 immediately relays into the Institute. If it’s gone, immediately relays somewhere else. Very rarely does he do the actual first aid. Coursers don’t need standard first aid because they aren’t human, and they don’t get hurt as easily. Plus, when X6 gets hurt, he doesn’t deal with it himself, he just relays in. Knows what to do in the back of his mind but absolutely botches it if he tries. Is focusing so hard his tongue sticks out the side of his mouth but more focus makes it worse. He doesn’t actually know what he’s doing because he never does this crap. Will take them to someone qualified in human first aid and probably give them a lecture about tact and the fact that they need to not get hurt because he doesn’t have it.

1/10 - At least he doesn’t let Sole die without a lecture.

#arcade fonv #arcade #arcade gannon #butch deloria fo3 #fo3 butch #butch fo3 #butch deloria #danse fallout 4 #paladin danse #danse fo4 #fo4 deacon #deacon fallout 4 #deacon #deacon fo4 #fallout deacon #duncan maccready #fo4 maccready #maccready #rj maccready #porter gage fo4 #fo4 gage #fo4 porter gage #porter gage #john hancock #fo4 hancock #mayor hancock #john hancock fo4 #hancock #nick fo4 #nick valentine

[morroodle]

the birb strikes again!

I dont really have a full story for this funky lil dude but I do have some information about him!

Hes real short and overall just small because flying. Idk the exact height but im thinking around 4ft

He has naturally silent flight like an owl. Very convenient for being a ninja

His leggies get tired pretty quick from standing and walking but he can perch for hours, often even sleeping like that

Speaking of perching: he loves to perch. He will perch on anything and it's actually more comfortable for him than standing on flat surfaces. Favorite things to perch on: rafters, the outer walls of the monastery, the dragon head and sails of the bounty, people

Favorite people to perch on: Zane and Cole. Zane because he's sturdy, balanced and dosent complain about his claws (being made of metal has its perks). Cole because big comfy and barely notices his weight and he never mentions it. Both of them because tall.

He perches on Wu too but that's more an emotional thing than him actually being a good perch. Perching on Wus shoulder makes him feel safe because dad <3

At least Wu and potentially all the ninja have falconry gauntlets that they wear almost all the time. Morros talons are very sharp

Ears move with emotion. Why? Because I said so. Same reason for why the tail looks like that, it's just fun

He absolutely has funky bird instincts

His bed (nest) is a complete mess of blankets and pillows and things he stole and it is very comfy so long as you know where he hid the emergency knives

Goes mama bird mode on Lloyd sometimes. If his baby cousin has a nightmare he takes him to his nest and sleeps on top of him. Gotta keep the chick safe. His wings make good blankets <3

When he's comfortable with the ninja he likes to preen them. He won't admit that's what he's doing but they all know. He's actually really good at styling hair as a result. Hates kais hair gelled abomination with a burning passion

Very rare for him to allow others to preen him though, have to ask first and pretty much only Wu and Lloyd. Sometimes Zane but thats just cause he's good at it

Related note: he likes to look pretty. He puts effort into his appearance and takes very good care of himself, he likes accessories. Pretty bird <3

Don't call him pretty bird. He will kill you

Bird noises. Squawks, chips, coos and screeches. He sings sometimes too but only when he thinks he's alone

NO. TOUCH. TAIL. Or feets.

Will never admit it but he loves ear scritches

That's all I've got right now, I have some parts of a story and some lore but I don't wanna share until I have more. Should note that as of this point he is not a ghost, just a funky bird. I'm not sold on his design colors yet, especially his clothes and hair so that might change soon. Might also draw some versions with different colored feathers just for fun

#birb morro #ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago morro #morro #art #ninjago au

[allw3doisadvert1se]

Do You Hear the Rapture?

Everest, Amanda, Swatch, and Spamton walked in silence down a street of the SIMULACRUM so warped by glitches and errors that practically nothing looked in place there. Rolling fields intersected by skyscrapers that gave way to dying flowers the size of city blocks decorated the horizon, where a hateful red sun slowly rose, bathing the group in harsh light. As they made their way around jutting slabs of concrete that rose tens of feet into the air, Everest couldn’t help but think they were heading in the right and yet somehow wrong direction simultaneously. Were these fractals made of the architecture a sign that they were getting close to the center of this cancerous blight, or did it signify that they had roamed far beyond its borders? Perhaps such questions would be a waste of thought right now. She needed time, time to think clearly, to consider what will happen when this all ends, to reflect on her time trapped here, and perhaps most pressing of all … what to do with Swatch.

Though the tall butler was being carried in the mostly trustworthy arms of Spamton in his NEO suit, his condition had worsened significantly, the collapsing wound on his side now causing his whole body to shift and pulsate every few seconds. Everest hadn’t known Swatch all too well before she had been brought here, but after the many, many cycles she had spent down here, she had grown to see why Queen had trusted him so dearly when he was alive. It didn’t seem fair to her that after so much preparation on his part to take back the city he cared for from the hands of The Founder he might not get the chance to even see it freed …

No. She couldn’t be thinking like that. Swatch was gonna make it. He had to. They just needed to find the Nail, and this whole nightmare would be over … at least until the inevitable next one if their track record was to be accounted for. But Everest didn’t even know what she was looking for. Xanrir hadn’t specified to Hazel what this thing actually was, and thus her instructions were equally vague. All she and the rest of the group were really hoping for was the possibility of …

stumbling into it …

As if on cue with her thoughts, the group rounded a corner and suddenly standing before them was a massive obelisk constructed of black stone that, unlike the rough and jagged features of the rest of the SIMULACRUM, was unnaturally smooth. Near the peak, Everest could spot a suspended balcony that seemed to spiral up along the outside to the summit. She turned to Spamton.

“Could you fly while carrying one of us?”

“OF [[h o r s e]] 1 CAAN. yOU HEARD H3R, [[Free-Range Poultry]], WE’R E GOING UP!!1!!”

Swatch shifted uncomfortably in the puppet’s arms. “Just don’t you dare drop me …”

“HMMmMMM[[M&M]]MM … I’LL [[Consider the following …]]!”

Without another word, Spamton spread his massive wings and in a very janky fashion lifted Swatch up, up, and up towards the balcony far above. At a certain point, Everest couldn’t make out the details, only seeing the neon metal plates of the NEO suit against the blood red sky. Amanda nervously patted Rodney in her arms, the tiny Tasque letting out a slightly laggy purr in response, before looking to Everest.

“Do you think that was his attempt at a joke?”

“Perhaps. He’s been trying a lot of things recently. Getting on my laptop and posting something, for one.”

Amanda giggled. “Hehe. By the blade, you were so mad at him.”

“Can you blame me? I’m surprised the damn thing didn’t get malware installed just from him touching it.”

“Random question, but are you gonna let him keep the NEO suit when we get back to our world?”

“Hhhhh … Probably not. In here it helps to have a bit of a powerhouse. But … back in the city? I don’t know, that feels more like it behooves us.”

“But has he not earned it? How many times has he saved our lives just from having that thing on?”

Everest bit the inside of her cheek in contemplation before sighing. “… Amanda, do we really need to talk about this right now?”

“I mean … not really. W-We should stay focused, I’m sorry.”

There was awkward silence between the two until Spamton returned, having dropped Swatch off on the balcony. Amanda got flown up next, much to the dismay of Rodney, who Everest could hear yowling from the ground level. Finally, it was her turn. Getting carried up that high into the air with such inconsistent movements was rather terrifying, but the puppet’s confident look towards the skies helped keep her morale high enough. When her feet impacted the ground of the balcony, she let out a sigh of relief. Spamton landed soon afterward, scooping Swatch off the ground from the wall he had leaned him up against. Swatch let out an uncomfortable squawk as he pulsed with the beat of the collapsing wound more, more unstable this time.

Everest looked onward to the stairs leading up and around, and after just a bit more walking, they finally reached the epicenter from which this virulent realm spread. In the center of the roof was a raised dias which held a small effigy formed of flesh and metal alike. Its surface shifted with the same screaming faces that could be seen on A.B.Y.S.S’s body, implying a connection between the two. Everest knew now without a shadow of a doubt that this is what they had been looking for. This was the Nail …

Without another moment’s hesitation, she sprinted for the dias, her footsteps tapping along the surface of the roof in echoes as the group followed a second afterward. She was so close, within 50 feet of it, she could get out of here at last and live the life she was supposed to, before A.B.Y.S.S, before The Founder, before the Queen ever even died … she could finally live for herself.

But of course, it couldn’t be quite so easy. With the sound of static feedback, the profane god of the SIMULACRUM appeared right in front of Everest, its clawed hand outstretched. She couldn’t stop her momentum fast enough before A.B.Y.S.S wrapped its hand around her throat and threw her backwards, causing her to yell in pain as she hit the ground. Amanda ran up to her, placing Rodney on the ground before gently helping Everest to her feet. Spamton had his arm cannon raised and pointed at A.B.Y.S.S, arcane energy glowing at the barrel, and Swatch … Swatch was quietly murmuring something, inaudible to even the puppet that held him.

The bleeding machine’s twisted smile grew wider, the flesh merged to its head tearing just a bit more as he did so. With a moment of pause, it began to speak. “Well done, participants! It seems that your little search has gotten you right where you aimed to be. You’ve reached the catalyst of my control over your precious little world.” A.B.Y.S.S chuckled darkly, the leathery wings on his back folding close to himself. “I would say you’ve sacrificed much to get here, but we both know that isn’t true.”

Everest spoke out in a voice that shook with simultaneously anger and fear. “We left Marcus to die! Is that not enough for you!? Must you take any more?!?”

“Come now. I’m not a fool. I am this world’s eyes and ears after all, I heard your little conversation with Amanda that leaving him to be deleted was for the better.” One of the extra arms that curled over its shoulder pointed at Amanda, causing her to have to gulp down her fear. “He is not of concern for you, and thus his unwilling sacrifice is not enough. But … I will offer you a plead bargain.”

A.B.Y.S.S snapped its fingers as it lifted Swatch and Amanda up with some form of telekinesis. Amanda yelped in panic as the entity pulled her close before stabbing one of its claws into her shoulder, immediately infecting her with a collapsing wound, now just as bad as Swatch’s. As Amanda fell silent, Everest let out a furious shout of rage. “NO! DON’T YOU TOUCH HER!! GIVE THEM BACK!”

A.B.Y.S.S turned to her and laughed raising both in the air higher. “Everest K. Addison … it is time for you to make a choice. Who lives … and who dies? This is the price you must pay for meddling behind my back, turning my own sibling against me, and sending me back to square one.”

Spamton fired a beam of energy at A.B.Y.S.S, which the entity took to the face to little effect. The puppet shouted, “HE-H-HEY!! [[Hands off the merchandise!]]! GIVe SW4<TCH [[Backspace]]!!!”

“It is not your choice to make, puppet. And unless you want to be going home two friends short, I suggest you do not attempt to harm me again.” A.B.Y.S.S was clearly reveling in the choice paralysis he had inflicted upon Everest, especially now with Spamton staring at her, trying to persuade her to save Swatch.

Everest opened her mouth to say something, when she noticed something … very subtle. Swatch’s eyes, though he was hanging mostly limp in the air, were flashing with light. Blinking on and off. On and off. She had a brief recall to when she had written a message in Morse code all that time ago, and suddenly the blinking made sense to her. Swatch was transmitting a short message, two words long:

SAVE

HER

Everest looked down, sorrow welling up in her chest as she took a deep, shaky breath. “I choose … Amanda … to be saved.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she fell to her knees, tears forming in her eyes. Spamton stood still for several moments, glitching, his glasses crackling with static. His emotions were not very clear, but whatever A.B.Y.S.S sensed in there … it was enough.

The entity cackled, lowering Amanda to the ground slowly before centering Swatch above itself. “As you wish. Swatch will never see his world free again.” A beam of piercing red light struck down over A.B.Y.S.S and Swatch, causing the collapsing wound on Swatch to instantly flare up. The corvid butler let out a pained scream as the wound ruptured.

Layer by layer, Swatch was slowly dissolved into nothing, a pile of scrap and organic material no longer recognizable as himself. It started with his feathers, and almost plastic skin, revealing a deep layer of lead-lined metallic plating, supposedly a measure he used to avoid detection by the CIFT throughout the years he was in hiding. Below that lay a complex layout of pipes, gears and wiring that flailed as the connections between them were snapped over and over. When it hit the last few organs Swatch still had that were organic, it left little but a sickly puddle of blood and bile.

Throughout the whole process, Everest could not bear to look at Swatch through his screams and death rattles. Spamton, however just stared onwards, absorbing every detail. But … finally, after wretchedly too long, it was over, and A.B.Y.S.S gave a mocking little bow before fading from sight.

Everest crawled over to Amanda, lifting her up and supporting her. The entity had kept its promise, to her luck, as the newly opened wound began to shrivel back into healthy flesh on the Lightner’s body. Amanda let out a few shaky breaths, seemingly not having been fully conscious for Swatch’s execution. Everest breathed quietly, “We’re getting out of here. Now.”

She let go of Amanda, seeing as she could steady herself now, and sprinted the remaining distance to the dias that held the Nail, this twisted little effigy. Everest grabbed it off the pedestal before throwing it onto the ground and stomping it as hard as she possible could. With a twist of her foot, the effigy let out a satisfying crunch and was destroyed.

Over the course of the next few moments, a blinding white light would flash in the far distance, slowly spreading to where the tower the group was standing on was. Before the light could consume them, Everest, Amanda and Rodney, and Spamton all disappeared. They awoke to find themselves trapped in three different pods of flesh, the pestilent black tumors A.B.Y.S.S had used to integrate them in the first place, now shriveling up. They ripped the weakened flesh away from themselves and crawled out, Amanda and Everest coughing as they crawled away. Spamton simply rose from his pod, gazed around for a moment, and then immediately flew off to somewhere in the city.

The dark fountain that gave life to the CIFT home world was no longer shining red, its corruption purged at last. Perhaps … things could start to recover now, if given the right care.

… But there was one who now was stuck wandering in the dark.

Marcus Baal trudged through the endless shadows of the Greater Void, his binary code for a body flickering unstably. It seemed that with the deletion of the SIMULACRUM, Marcus too got deleted with it. It was clear to the entities that surrounded him on all sides that he would not make it to the Market in time to be saved. But … what he would become interested all of them deeply.

[[System Reboot Successful]]

[[Running Diagnostic Scan for Reparation Protocols]]

[[Thank You, and Have a Regular Day!]]

#deltarune #creative writing #the CIFT #spamton #swatch #A.B.Y.S.S #Everest K. Addison #Amanda Highmore #A.B.Y.S.S Takeover #Finale

[thyandrawrites]

how would you rate each of hawks' civilian outfits? 👀

Asks that test your memory djkdjfs I think I got most of his civilian outfits (excluding any that might've appeared in the spinoffs because I don't follow those)

So... I am a fashion disaster too irl so this will be mostly lighthearted teasing. Don't take me too seriously. Fashion can be very personal, but this is Hawks and my blog is not a bully-Hawks-free zone, so.

Here's my ranking from best to worst fit. I could've done it the other way around but what's the fun in that, right? 😂

7.

The "someone vetoed the actual suit I wanted to wear and we all must thank them for it" look

Alright don't judge me. It's very basic formal wear and all black is an easy choice for a man, but it does flatter him. I also like the red accents of the accessories. Another obvious choice to complement his wings, but. No one said I had good standards. Now if only he rolled up those sleeves. Smh

6.

The "if you don't look too closely you might miss all the trauma and backstabbing and think I'm a normal twenty-something" look

Ok full disclosure: I like bolero jackets. That's all. Fhhdhdhd

Iirc the anime had him wear his hero costume in this scene and that's a shame because this is probably the only time Hawks dressed his age. It's all very sleek and looks put together without much of an effort, and it looks good on him even if the color-coordination is very basic. But the casual look of the watch, headphones and sneakers combo adds a certain fuckboy touch to the fit. Which is so inexplicably funny because it's Hawks. Bxhdhdj but oh well. Whatever works, works

5.

The "I only look good because someone put shiny things on me" look

I was gonna put this more on top before realizing that without the jewelry he looks like he's on his way to the grocery store. That was probably by design since it's a modeling shot. I assume he was asked to dress plainly not to draw attention away from the advertised products, so I'll give him a pass.

But all that shiny metal looks amazing on him. I am a Dabi stan why are you surprised I like shiny things

4.

The "must be fashionable while committing retconned murder" look

I know what you're thinking. It's gaudy. I won't argue against that. But depending on its colors, the paisley jacket could've been a Look. Too bad Bones was a coward and cut it. I guess the year 2021 wasn't ready for Hawks' fashion choices

3.

The "oh no the postman was here and caught me in my pajamas" look

This one isn't even bad. It's just. Plain. Baby pls, you have a ton of money. At least put some color in your wardrobe

2.

The "all the money in my bank account can't buy common sense" look

Now we're actually getting into Hawks' peculiar fashion sense. I know there's a name for those big sneakers but he must like them because that's the second time we see him wear them.

What I find amusing about this is that all of those clothes kinda clash with each other. There's a lot going on with his torso in particular. He's wearing geometric patterns on his shirt, which would be eye-catching on its own, but then he trew on a cross between a travel jacket and... Skater-like streetwear, almost? Idk, I don't know the first thing about fashion but when I first saw this ensemble my eyes didn't know where to look lol

Also, those visors. They're not his usual work ones. He definitely put them on as an accessory. I guess he has a brand. Nerd.

1.

The "my strategy on my days off is to dress so ugly people don't look me in the eyes and thus can't ask me to work" look

Okay, I cheated. Pretty sure this outfit is from one of the movies, but I couldn't not include it. I had to leave you on an outfit that deals some kind of psychic damage, lest you thought my more moderate opinions hinted towards me thinking this man can dress himself

Anyway, this was fun. Thank you for the ask!

#Ali replies #Hawks #What's funny is that he goes from super plain to super gaudy depending on his mood #No in between #And that's very valid of him #After all he needs to keep us humble #If he was too cool we might forget he's actually an idiot

[witchofthesouls]

More messing around with @rocksinmuffin’s Megahusband AU (seriously check it out):

You don’t know what happened; actually, you do. It was the usual Decepticon plan-of-the-week but it featured a patented Wheeljack-what-the-frag-is-that invention.

Of course, it ended up on fire because why not?! But between Starscream’s stray null-ray shot, the Constructicon’s random mixes, and the Sideswipe’s updated molotov cocktail, the last thing you remember was a beam of bright, Barbie pink hitting you so hard to fly off the table and right into Lalaland via concussion.

Wheeljack had managed to squirrel you away upon the Autobots’ retreat and you woke up to a new reality of being absolutely Tall and Metal.

You’ve been secluded inside the Autobot medbay getting prodded, poked, and scanned every inch of your new body.

You should have far more panic but a good chunk of your adult life has been composed of absolutely random events fit for a protagonist of a reverse isekai, scifi anime. Or maybe an action-comedy since you originally dated Megatron to gain an upper-hand for the Autobots, and married him out of absolute spite to ruin that smug look on his face when he proposed through the Jumbotron at the game.

Speaking of the devil, you and everyone else in a 50-mile radius can hear Megatron bellowing outside the thick, protective walls.

“We could use the fire hose.” Ironhide says, far too casual in that way where someone really wants to do it but just waiting for another person to vaguely agree to go ham on it.

“No. I got it.”

“Are you sure, Y/N? You could take a few more days off to get used to it.”

“I got the anti-gravs and the shrinking down pat down. Might as well get it over with.”

_________________

Starscream listens to his Trine-mates bicker with the rest of the Armada, scrapping like a few of the groundpounders. All of them bored and cowed by Megatron’s shortfuse as their glorious leader keeps howling your name.

Staracream can only admire all of those spiteful acts of pettiness that cumulatived into a sham marriage between you and Megatron. And after years and years of domestic, married life, the active warfare turning cold, and this farce of a semi-functioning family, Starscream could say that Megatron had developed a begrudging sense of affection towards you. Or at least some sort of feeling to trigger his posessiveness. 

Enough for the warlord to keep you on his shoulder whenever you’re at the base and actually recharge at that tiny dwelling where he needs to shift a ridiculous amount of mass into his subspace to fit through the door instead of his berth on base.

(During one of his snooping raids, Starscream had found a sparkling dollhouse, outfitted with the amenities for a human to stay as well as a bust of your scowling face.)

Unsurprisingly, a chunk of the Decepticon forces are outside the Ark as you haven’t left the orange monstrosity for a week and the Autobots stopped picking up their transmissions.

Finally, there’s movement. But it’s no human strolling out of the open hatch, it’s a new Cybertronian. One with a familiar walk and familiar expression of exasperation and they call out:

“Morning, my Titan sweetcheeks!”

It’s definitely you, and you’re annoyed.

Megatron’s sputtering, voice trailing off as you step in front in him, rivaling his height as a Seeker femme. All the mechs around stare unabashedly at your new frame. Games stop. Brawls still. His Trine-mates fall silent.

Everything. From digits to pedes to broad wings, all the armor and peeking protoform are a solid shade of Decepticon logo purple. The only exception is your newfound optics: a bright, searing shade of fuchsia. 

“Pits, Screamer,” Skywarp’s poor attempt of a whisper echoes out. “Your step-creator’s slaggen hawt!”

Skywarp’s squeak of terror from the simultaneous hums of his null-ray and a fusion canon is music to his audials.

#transformers #transformers g1 #megahusband #reader insert #megatron #starscream #G1 #HUMANFORMERS #humans into cybertronians #special mention to: #Ironhide #skywarp #oh no you're hot #maccadam #My writing #rocksinmuffin

[mlmxreader]

Keep A Close Eye | Corinthian x nb!reader

Anonymous asked: Corinthian x angel!reader

He thinks he can fix the Corinthian but uno reverse he ends up falling (in multiple ways) for him :)

summary: sent to keep an eye on the Corinthian, you can't say you're exactly surprised when you develop certain feelings that an angel should never feel for a nightmare.

tws: mentions of murder and violence, swearing, smoking

You were assigned to keep an eye on the Corinthian, as a being with similar phsyical power to the Endless - although not quite as strong as them - it was easy for you to get in his good books; he has you down in two seconds. An angel with a soft spot for the mortals' rock and metal music and their horror films. Corinthian had you pinned down to a T in seconds; he didn't mind you hanging around, though, he quite liked your company and he thought it was funny to tease you here and there. He liked having you around, he liked it when you sat in the passenger seat of his Mustang and you felt the wind between your fingertips and sang along to CDs he had in his car; he didn't think he would ever hear 'Girls, Girls, Girls' by Mötley Crüe sung so beautifully ever again. He didn't think he'd hear the words with such passion and joy that it made him grin.

You weren't just there to keep an eye on him, though, admittedly, you had always had your curiosity about the nightmare; you had always been quite curious about humanity, too. You felt more at home with the term nonbinary than their other terms, and when you told Corinthian, he immediately switched to what you liked; maybe humanity was rubbing off on him, maybe he wasn't as much of a dick as everyone had told you. He was... good, really; you were certain that if he was given the time and patience and kindness... maybe he would actually stop killing. Maybe.

Still, those nights where you wandered around the empty streets and holding onto his arm and leaning into his side and sharing earbuds, listening to Mötley Crüe - he seemed to really like that one band - were probably some of the best nights you had ever had; the nights where he would pull you under a bus stop and he would sit on the red bench with his legs spread and keep you between them, his hands on your sides as he watched you so closely, so carefully, as you lit up a cigarette. "My angel," he would whisper under his breath, not wanting you to hear it, "all mine".

You wished. You really, really, wished that was the truth, but you knew it could never happen; he was a nightmare, he killed for pleasure, he killed because he enjoyed it and he liked it. You were an angel, you were meant to protect, you were made to keep things safe and sound. You weren't like him. But you helped him in the end; you managed, at least, to steer him towards those who deserved it. Such as the prince who had been hanging around with child abusers. You pointed him towards those who really did deserve it, if you couldn't get him to stop, you could at least make sure he wasn't going after people who didn't deserve it.

Your wings were clipped, so to speak, as when you were asked when you were going to return, you couldn't give a straight answer; you didn't want to leave him. You couldn't. He was... he was good. He was good, really. You just had to rewrite an ending that would fit; you had to change the story. You couldn't give him back to the Endless.

Still, you weren't shy, not really, and as you laid on your stomach on the bed, you stretched your wings out; great brown feathers a stage for the dancing golden light that streamed in through the cracks in the curtains. Some old rock song on the speaker as you watched the Corinthian.

"Y'know, angel," he started, "we make a pretty good team."

You dared to laugh a little as you shrugged. "Not a likely duo is it, though? An angel and a nightmare? Might as well be a dog and a snake."

"We still make a good team," he told you, coming over and pressing a glass of iced coffee into your hand as he dared to smile. He never could stop looking at you. The way you looked when you were so relaxed... that was his favourite.

When you were relaxed and your wings were out and he could run his fingers along the brown feathers, reminding him of a long eared owl in both looks and texture, knowing he was the only one who was allowed to do such a thing, knowing that you only trusted him to touch your wings; the way you groaned and squirmed into his touch. The lazy smiles. That was always his favourite.

"Maybe I ought to stick around," you mused. "If we make such a good team."

Moving to kneel in front of you, Corinthian didn't waste time, his hand on your jaw as he cleared his throat and groaned softly. "I never thought I'd meet an angel I actually liked."

"And yet here I am," you chuckled. "Although, I never thought I'd meet a serial killer I actually liked... a lot."

"A lot?" He quirked a brow, pouting his lips a little. "Did I just hear an angel say that they like a nightmare a lot?"

"Oh, shove off," you laughed, playfully shoving his face with your free hand as you moved to sit up, the ruffle of your feathers creating a slight breeze like someone had left the ceiling fan on its lowest setting for a moment. "You have any idea of how much fucking shit I could get into if I was..."

"Who cares?" Corinthian scoffed. "We're not there. We're here, with the mortals. Who's gonna know, angel?"

"I guess you got a point," you nodded. "Are you sure that you can stay tied down, though? I know you have an appetite for-"

"I'm sure," he nodded, gently tracing the top of your wing just to make you shiver. "If you are."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #the corinthian x y/n #the corinthian x reader #corinthian x you #corinthian x y/n #corinthian x reader #the corinthian imagine #corinthian #the corinthian #Corinthian imagine #the sandman x reader #the sandman imagine #sandman imagine #sandman x reader #the sandman #sandman

[moonlight-tmd]

OMG I LOVE THE WAY YOU DRAW <33333

can bee actually fly with those wings or can he do smth else with it?

Awwwh thank you! feel free to check out my instagram for better pieces <3

Yeah, of course he can fly! Here is my original idea where the Part-Insecticon!Bee AU originates from- you have it all written in there. It's where he doesn't turn full-insecticon.

In addition to that idea alone: he loves to zoom around the plant and loves that he can reach anything he wants at any time. No more restrictions by putting stuff on high shelves! Since he didn't fly for so long he had a thing called Grounder Disease(flier thing, read more on that later in post), he had to learn how to fly all over again- good thing it came to him almost naturally so he didn't crash much.

He's very protective/paranoid over them, if he uses his wings it's for a short time before he sheathes them again. He does fly at least once a day like Ratchet recommended so the disease won't come up again. He only uses them inside the plant, he's scared that if he uses them outside something might happen and he'll lose them again.

Other than that he really likes to show them off- only when in safe areas tho and for a short time. His favorite thing to do it turn all the lights off and have one bright lamp he can stand in front of and watch everyone being in awe as his wings literally glow and glimmer cuz of the light behind.

For the Part-Insecticon!Bumblebee AU: originally his wings got burned away since it was "wrong for autobots to have these"- really it was just a very abusive caretaker in the orphanage he was growing up in. You have it fully written in the posts i linked- so anyway, he ran away and grew up. There is a thing among fliers that if they don't fly or use their wings for too long they start to lose control over them, it's called a Grounder Disease- because Bee couldn't fly and had completely given up of trying to do anything with his wing cuz "what's the point" the disease has completely developed and he lost all feeling and control in his broken wings; he often forgets they are even there.

When Blackarachnia inject the strange toxin into him his insecticon take it instead and start working- he gets all sleepy and hungry all the time and Ratchet doesn't know what is happening. One night they just find a metallic cocoon on Bee's berth and after 3 or so weeks of looking after it, he hatches as a fluffy and temporarily-slimy half-insecticon. His exposed protoform is covered in bee fluff and his glossa is way longer- but the most important part; his wings have regenerated. They are whole again. As much as he is confused by this event he is so happy about them being fixed. He shows them off any chance he gets and loves zooming around not being restricted to the ground. He'll do the lamp trick i mentioned earlier for sure. Also he can make organic-and-cybertronian-friendly honey.

I imagine at one point in either scenarios he gets injured by Waspinator- he ripped his subspace off to humiliate Bee for having broken wings and Bee has to suffer the exposure after cuz his protoform was damaged and Ratchet needs to wait for it to heal before doing the welding. So the first time he comes out of medbay he goes straight to his room despite everyone trying to talk to him- they all saw his back and his reamins of wings then. Ratchet clarified they were remains fo wings and told them to not talk to him about it.

For the recovery Bee had a blanket draped over his shoulers and back and would get very defensive if someone accidentally made it slide off. (stepping on it, sittiling on it when he wanted to get up, etc) He was also sadder. They knew Bee was hurting, both physically and mentally but they couldn't do anything about it.

*Insert scenario of either ProwlBee or (decepticon to autobot)BlitzBee reacting and comforting Bee about his broken wings. Send ask if you wanna know either of the reactions.*

So Bee would either: A) have his backplate fixed up and nothing would happen until either of the scenarios with Allspark of cocoon happened and he got his wings back. B) be helped by his loved one- at one point they mentioned physical therapy to get the Grounder Disease to ease up- i think it would be possible even in such advanced stage. So Bee would give it a shot and after 2 month of everyday massages, injections and exercise he could flutter his wing-nubs. Then either Allspark or cocoon scenario would happen and he gets his wings back completely.

I hope you're satisfied with the answer! I really like talking about Part-Insecticon!Bee cuz it's just so fun. <3

#maccadam #tfa #ask box #tfa bumblebee #tfa au #part-insecticon!bumblebee au #long post

[whatudottu]

Hello! Just here to say that I love all of yours and anon's DID Blitzwing related thoughts!! I adore Blitzwing and they're (he?) what got me researching DID again after so long (my little autistic brain loves them <33). I'm not a system (or if I am, everyone else is really well hidden!!), but I love learning about all the things minds are capable of doing to protect themselves and I think it's fascinating - though I know that obviously I'll have some misconceptions so I'm always very happy to learn more :)

Do you have any other ideas/ headcannons about them? I would love to hear them /gen

Oh I'm not infallible either, not a system myself but I am fascinated with psychology (looks at my therapist Ben 10 character). Besides Blitzwing is an interesting character to have DID because they're not human and so with our human (and audience) perception, it can be easy to connect Blitz to DID even if that's not what the TFA writers intended- the added bonus is my intrigue in xenobiology/psychology so... Blitz's the perfect sample for that asjdhgblsjfkl-!

As for headcanons, those may need to be under the cut they got a bit much haha-!

You can take some of these headcanons as little hints towards a canon!Blitzwing, but because I've been rambling with the anons about Bot Experiment Triple-Changers these are kinda more focused on that little au rather than the original-

I like to imagine Random would totally eat organic (non-metal) food if given the chance/no one else fronts to stop him. With the power of fire and ice, he at least has assurances for the others that Random can and will ingest flaming fuel and liquid nitrogen just to get rid of any residue of authentic Italian cuisine. It seems to really be his thing idk- Probably doesn't help that Octane would totally be on his side if she ever fronted (certainly eggs him on when they're both in the headspace).

There's a pretty common headcanon that Blitzwing sculpts, but I like to pin the sculpting hobby onto Hothead because metal sculpting would work far easier with a little heat. As a bonus BETC!Blitz exclusive I like to say that Private actually had a passion for carving, his little area of the headspace decorated with what he remembers making, so Hothead took a little bit of a peak at that and got interested in it's complement; building something from nothing as opposed from revealing something from another something.

And Icy I feel is just really intrigued by alien cultures (that little commentary on how fascinating human cities are like nano-bots WILL NOT ESCAPE ME), perhaps a little more so than being interesting in Cybertron itself. I mean he's not gonna say that OUT LOUD with Decepticons around, but he finds the different ways different planets and different countries ON those planets create homes and lifestyles unique to their own individual circumstance. Astrotrain would feel a kinship to that, considering the bot had previously worked in cargo transport across Cybertron and getting to experience the different cultures of it's citystates, but Astrotrain also understands VERY WELL why Icy might not have the best connection to 'home'.

I also think that, out of the hosts, Hothead is the most affectionate towards Private and despite not having any wings in their headspace, Hothead speaks to Private like an older warframe does to a young(er) war bot. Random when not fronting fucks around with Octane if Astrotrain's covering Private's six, the two of them being chaotic little gremlins that spells disaster for any bot unlucky enough to be around the next time Random fronts with a prank idea. And to round this off if Octane is being the wine aunt to Private (or about as responsibly irresponsible like one), Astrotrain and Icy take a moment to sit and breathe, talking about traveling and other more silent contemplations.

And I think that might be all from the top of my head? Only saw this ask about nearly 12 hours after the timestamp says I got it so hopefully you weren't waiting to long asjdhfgaslkfkl-! But nah, I love Blitzwing, just needed to sit on my thoughts haha-

#ask #nerdylittleguy #blitzwing #tfa blitzwing #octane #tfa octane #astrotrain #tfa astrotrain #because though they are alters they are introjects based on other BETCs blitzwing was surrounded with #transformers #tfa #BETCs #bot experiment triple changers #maccadam #i realised in making this headcanons that i totally just gave blitz an extra 3 alts #totally unintended but i guess pairing a canon alt to a BETCs alt helped a little with headcanoning lmao #a little part of me is debating on whether random actually ate bots or not- #i mean war doesn't bring out the best in people and if mr teeth over here is a unicron demon what will stop him #on the other hand- don't wanna make random make blitzwing's system a stereotype #i mean i already have thoughts about mal total drama who kicked mike squad's representation into the mud #but if that was the random headcanon i'd probably have to give icy and hothead a headcanon of equal theme to prevent whiplash #which would have made the post probably not a fun little headcanon page #but here is the return of BETCs octane and astrotrain- #featuring 'god forbid women do anything' octane and 'what's in your chassis (cargo)' astrotrain

[radiant-flutterbun]

Playing God

    The cell was cold and dark. There was no window. No furnishings. No sign of comfort. Asra shifted and the metal cuffs clamped over their wrists burned from the cold. Their chains clanked as they glanced out the small opening that showed signs of life outside of their cell. The door was well fortified, as everything was in the Fortress of Ends. But they could just make out the shadow from their guard.

    “I know it’s you, Super.” They said. Their voice was calm despite the pain.

    They heard a sigh.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“And yet you are.” Asra couldn’t help but grin to themself.

“You’re a degenerate. You know that right?”

Asra chuckled. “I’m well aware. But are you aware you’re one yourself?”

They saw the shadow twitch.

“Those are empty words.”

“Are they now? It was your journal that gave me the inspiration.”

Super was silent and then his voice came back with a slight crack.

“You found my journal?”

“Channeling Elemental magic to manipulate the dead… Fascinating stuff. Easier than I thought it was.”

“The dead are meant to stay that way, you freak.”

“Then why were you researching it too?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

“I think it is. You’ve found a way to reanimate the body. But what if we go further? Find a way to pull back the Soul? You lost a sister, haven't you?”

Silence.

“You want her back, huh?”

Nothing.

“What if told you, that I might know how? You only have to let me free.”

***

Asra laughed maniacally as they commanded their newest pet. It was an Imperial. Finding their deceased was difficult. The breed were cagey about their burying practices. Asra suspected they normally burned their dead. How else would they hide their rotting whales of corpses? And they heard rumors of what happened when their kind died. Rumors that could be confirmed if only they could find themself in the Sunbeam Ruins.

But no. The pearlcatcher was now stuck on an island in the waters between the flights of Light, Nature, and Shadow. They rubbed the gray scars around their wrists. They may have escaped one prison only to find themself on another, but at least this prison had company and room to play.

Another pearlcatcher approached Asra. He was gray with red wings and wore a light purple cloak that matched his eyes.

Asra’s eyes lit up. “Super! Just in time. Look what I found!” They twirled their finger and the imperial corpse sat down like a puppy.

Super sighed. “And where did you get that? Actually don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

“Do you think if I find another I could create an Emperor? Do you think they’re real? Do you think I could control one?”

“I don’t know Asra. But you should know that Farell has pissed off a pod of maren. She took one of their dead.”

“Oh? That’s fun! Never saw a maren up close. Is it fresh? Do you think we can cut it open and see what’s inside?”

“Asra… Azzy. You’re not listening. This means we can no longer fish. The maren aren’t letting us step foot in the water.”

Asra smiled and flicked Super’s muzzle. “Then we kill them, Superstar!”

Super’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that… a bit excessive?”

“Nothing is excessive when we’re practically gods! This world is ours to take and shape. The dead obey us, and soon the dead won’t be dead anymore. I think I’ve got it figured out. But first we need to get off this island.”

“Oh Azzy… you’ve ruined me. I used to be a respected mage, you know!”

“And yet you still broke me out of that icey prison. You knew what you were getting into.”

Super sighed again and unsheathed his scythe.

“Yeah. You’re right. Anyway. Which side of the island should we start on?”

“Hmm South. I’ll bring my new pet too. Try not to slice up the maren too much. I want to keep their bodies.”

“Of course Azzy. Should I get the others too?”

“Nah. I think the two of us can handle it fine on our own.”

“This is fucked up.”

“But you’re still going to do it.”

“What can I say?” Super nuzzled Asra. “I’m a degenerate.”

#tapho necromancers #firefly writing #Asra has 0 morals #this is a VERY short chapter

[dearlavender]

❀°•Sleepless Nights•°❀

[Ghost x Male Engineer! Reader]

[Part 1: Rookies, Part 2: You're here!, Part 3: The Past, Part 4: Arguments]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

"Didn't expect you to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 2 in the morning. "

Ghost's voice rang out as he mosied into the empty canteen, it was dark but the only light that softly illuminated the room was a small table side lamp propped up onto the table.

For four weeks, close to a month, the rookie had been on the Task Force. And yet he never once said his name or where he was from, not even his files specified.

"Workshops closed, can't sleep, and wanna work. " Thorne replied, slipping the headphones he wore off of his ears. He didn't wear his helmet and instead had a simple black facial mask with a pair of steampunk-style goggles on over his eyes. Revealing his unkempt neck-length hair.

"So instead you decided to break into the canteen? " Ghost concluded as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, causing the opposing male to scoff.

"It's early 20th-century tech, even a bloody infant could find their way inside. Besides I had to re-work my butterfly bombs. " The insomniac man mumbled as he tightened the screw on the small mechanical butterfly on the table.

"Mhm, so what do these do anyway? " The lieutenant asked as he took a seat across from him. He wouldn't lie and say he wasn't a little curious. Making the engineer lift up his goggles and rested them on his forehead, letting his sharp eyes look at the opposing man.

That was the first time he was actually asked about his little inventions, especially by someone who looked like they really could not care less.

"Well, you control them all with this. And you make a certain hand movement for them to blow up. " Thorne began, lifting up one of his hands that had gold rings on each finger despite him still wearing gloves. They were connected to a leather piece around his wrist, he moved a few of his fingers and watched as the little metal butterfly slowly flapped its wings. Letting it fly around the table before sitting back down.

"I'm trying to connect miniature cameras to them, but because they're so light in weight, the cams I'm using are far too heavy. " He finished, resting his cheek against the back of his gloved hand while he fiddled with his screwdriver.

"Can I ask you something? You ever take the mask off? "

Ghost's brown colored eyes flickered up before glimmering to the side as he stretched out his arms. "Gotta shower at some point. " He drawled out causing Thorne to let out an amused hum.

"You? Shower? Never woulda guessed. "

"Ah hush up. "

"I heard there's a guy in Germany who built something that can destroy grenades midair, pretty cool huh? " Thorne brought after they both got surrounded by silence.

"Really now? Sounds impossible. "

"Ehh, you'd be surprised at what the brain comes up with when you let it. " He replied before his lieutenant got an idea.

"If we're asking the other questions, what'd you do before joining the military? " Ghost asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. The engineer his head lift up as he heard it before leaning back in his chair and thinking to himself. It had been a couple of years so some of it had slipped his mind, at least most of the good stuff. The bad shit still was present.

"I did undercover work for a few years and was a nurse as a side job. " He answered truthfully, not wanting to divulge too deeply into what he had to do.

"Undercover eh? Like what? "

"Sorry Lt, I can't tell ya. 'Cause if I did, I might have to kill you. "

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghost #john soap mactavish #john price