#stagnantmako

[xkuja]

NY Sketches

Nero for @stagnantmako

#artwork #i took your vincent-dad hc and ran with it #because it mAKES SENSE #black hair is also one of my new fav things to scribble #so it was fun~ #nero #stagnantmako

[ceaselxss]

@stagnantmako | maybe if he'd read his new hire paperwork he'd have KNOWN WE WERE DOWN THERE

"Oh absolutely, the secret labs where all of the secret experiments were conducted; that's all in the employee handbooks. Don't you know ShinRa loves telling people their secrets? We all definitely knew about you."

#stagnantmako

[sadistpet]

@stagnantmako !

if the major has proven to be anything in his short years of living, it is inconsiderate of the feelings of others. something he demonstrates in his utter contempt of the people around him, the deep misanthropy entwined with the blood coursing through his veins. and, more specifically, how he regards the other in his presence with a grating and biting cruelty, coming as easily to him as breathing.

" i think you're in the wrong place. " he snorts, plump lips curled into a smirk. judgemental eyes giving a once-over of the other man -- dismissed upon completion. he rests his cheek upon his hand, eyebrows raised and eyes half-lidded in self satisfied amusement. " did you escape from the local psychiatric hospital ? or do you just have a really weird taste in fashion ? "

#hes such a little demon. grabs him shakes him #BUT HIHI I HOPE THIS IS OKAY #g: ¦ ❝ in character. ❞ #v: ¦ ❝ v. unspecified. ❞ #stagnantmako

[ofdeference]

@stagnantmako asked: 'I'm not tired.'

"Of course you're not." Something like him, a thing too close to inhuman. Did he ever need to sleep? Or was this some childish game played in the dark of night when those still with soul have returned to their corners in fear of the shadows he cast?

"But you've learned to simulate it, haven't you?" Tseng leans back in his seat, fingers steepled together as he studies the being across from him. The hair rises on the back of his neck. Every. Time. Unnerving..ghastly. Staring at him is hellish in and of itself. He is a void.

"Or do you need your nightly walk before you're put to bed?"

#stagnantmako #Real smart Tseng; my guy. #It's his own fault whatever happens.

[bitterarcs]

Second cigarette of the day, and it hung flaccidly from between fingers. A play thing. Red embers continued to devour, yet darkening thoughts refused to blow away with the carcinogenic smoke produced at smoldering end. Reno hated it . . the smell of cigarettes, actually. As if the weakness of surrendering to a vice was not a pounding to ego, the odour which clung to hair, clothes, and skin continued to remind and reprimand. Realization permeated as deeply as the stench, even as the lighter was flipped open, as the flame danced in eyes, and as the cigarette was removed from the half crushed box. Plenty of time to back out, yet turmoil acted as ten different voices shouting within his mind.

At least with the deadly ritual completed, frustration at himself was singled out; one disappointed voice better than several deafening ones. Only a third of the second cigarette was actually smoked, another third was left to burn as he watched quietly, and the last third — it fell from fingers. With a shocking amount of precision, it hit his target three floors down. Gunners dressed in company issued sweats and tees had been taking a break from their training, gathered in a cluster of three within the training arena. Of all the horrid things to possibly occurred, none expected to have a Turk watch them, least of all drop a cigarette.

From his height, the red head was unable to see the extent of the damage, but the single gunner yelled suddenly and ran around while attempting to dislodge the cigarette which had slithered past collar. Depending on his mood, a burst of inappropriate laughter or an apology would have been issued; he said nothing. Several pairs of heated and confused eyes looked upwards, and the sight of an unusually stoic Reno washed animosity away from tongues with freezing water. Maybe he could indulge in his mindless sadism later. At the moment, he pushed himself away from the railing over looking the impressive training hall and casually walked ( not sauntered ) towards the double doors leading to the elevator.

Black duffel bag full of supplies was carried with his right hand, hanging over right shoulder, and left hand was shoved inside the pocket of his ebony trousers to toy with the silver and scarlet lighter. He fingered the cool metal until it absorbed the heat of his flesh. DING. A light hum of the elevator mechanism, and the large doors opened at the helicopter landing pad on the building's roof. Hand moved away from lighter and out from pocket to hang awkwardly at his side whereupon the agitated tick of fingertips toying with the stitching of leather glove commenced. Leather binding palms and knuckles were a second flesh. Suit . . he could have done without.

Tiny gravel stones gave way with each step he produced on route to the awaiting helicopter. No recognition was given to the pilot, loathing the fact they needed a pilot, as the duffel was tossed in the back without much of a care. The pilot had, of course, not done anything ill, but the sight of him caused tongue to click against teeth with displeasure. The mission details including the part where Reno was not to pilot the helicopter in order to keep an eye out on his burden refreshed within mind. Tseng's emotionless voice. The mission file. The vile stench of smoke. Fuck, I shouldn't have smoked.

Now he was going to be stuck in reeking clothes AND be at the side of an unhinged gremlin. When the news had broke, even Rude, the bald and stacked pillar of a man, had reacted. Of course it was only Reno who noticed the reaction, for the red head had been stunned in the subsequent moments. Was it a punishment? Apparently not, but Reno called bullshit. He had tried bargaining with Tseng, offering Rude's services in the stead of a man Reno had personally helped to subdue. He wasn't fucking clingy, and not every mission required the services of red and bald, but why ruin something which worked? Fucking Tseng. Fucking shaddy ShinRa departments. FUCKING SEPHIROTH.

The infallible pillars of the ShinRa Electric Company crumbled in an instant. No, it had taken a little bit more time, but the dramatics of the situation made everything appear like a sudden explosion. The SOLDIER program was practically annihilated, and the Turks and . . the other scraps followed to pick up pieces. Neither a pessimist or an optimist, Reno knew there would be no repairing the wounds created by Genesis, Angeal, Zack, and Sephiroth. Fucking SOLDIERs. No one had listened to Reno, and how right he had been. . . .

No, Reno hadn't precisely predicted the dissension and desertion among the SOLDIERs, but the Turk had never trusted any of them. Bunch of mako freaks, and once again Reno was stuck with another caliber of freak. The red hair was a hair away from pulling out lighter to set fire to something . . anything, when Nero and his walker appeared from the same elevators Reno had emerged from a minute earlier. Equally scoffing and grimacing at the sight, the mouthy Turk pressed back against the sealed pilot door and defiantly crossed arms against his chest. Once close enough, he cocked his head to the side and spoke,

(  ❛  Anything I should know? Favourite treats? What times does he need to be walked to go potty?  ❜  )

Reno was proud of that one, almost enough to erase the shitty fucking circumstances of the fucked up mission. The red head did not allow it to show in his expression instead he moved for the ajar door and jumped inside with swift agility.

(  ❛  Alright, freak show. You better be able to handle heights.  ❜  )

starter for @stagnantmako

#[ ⁰⁰⁷ ; a little bit of reno to spice up life ] #stagnantmako

[unforestalledreturn]

Duplicity

@stagnantmako liked for a starter! It was getting worse, and Genesis knew it. What had begun as a gradual, insidiously subtle decline over the years now plunged into further, deeper depths. The wound in his shoulder would not heal. Genesis had tended it for nearly two weeks now, and where a SOLDIER's natural regeneration should have made quick work of such a nuisance, there was no healing to be found. Rather, it festered and oozed-- a plague within. He felt it stir all sorts of things. Beneath his skin writhed what felt to be a thousand snakes, burning and spreading further and further. And as it progressed, the harder it was for him to maintain face. Yet, here Genesis was, gathering his aching resolve to bury deep the pain and sensation of something itching just beneath the surface-- there was no other choice. Soon, he would depart for Wutai, the busy coming and goings of citizens filling the train platform with noise, bodies, and... something that made his head throb. Was this how an insect felt as it was melted within a cocoon? Reduced to nothing before bursting into something else? Hollander had eluded to as much-- Genesis refused to believe it. I'll clear you for this mission, just keep in mind what I said. I'll be ready, when you come around. That, however, was not the start nor end of the crimson elite's problems. As if keeping face was not difficult enough in front of his men, his Director, the public, even his closest friends, he had been saddled with... an unexpected challenge. Nero was the name, a prodigy magic user seeking mentorship. Apparently, the SOLDIER had connections within ShinRa, and through the wheeling and dealing of the corporate madhouse, had managed to twist the Director's arm enough to assign him this new mentee. They were to meet soon, not that Genesis was paying all too much attention to anything around him. Rather, he sat back on one of many blue benches that lined the station wall, arms crossed and expression pensive, not too unlike how one might look to be on the verge of being sick.

#stagnantmako #rp: Duplicity #verse: Crisis Core

[strifeborn]

“Your rudeness continues… Tearing you limb from limb will not be punishment enough.”

CLOUD CAN FEEL HIS PULSE thrumming in his veins, pounding in his ears. Something feels wrong. This isn't new to him; he's known battle, he's known power. But this feeling...it's unsettling, it has his fingers fidgeting and twitching around the hilt of his sword. But despite it all, he holds his ground.

❝ Try it. ❞

#✉ 𝑀𝐸𝑆𝑆𝐴𝐺𝐸 𝑆𝐸𝑁𝑇. #stagnantmako #he hello !!!! #i need to rewatch doc orz

[gcldfanged]

🔃 

111.— job-related trauma

He'd been warned multiple times not to be in range of Nero's abilities, but this wasn't exactly planned out. The kid had been taking too long to ply answers from their newfound friend, Whip could have probably had the motherfucker singing opera in about half the time. But he'd done the polite knocking, tried using the freakshow's name, and still nothing. Opening that door was a mistake but Jae-hyo hadn't even realized just how bad of a mistake it was until it was far too late.

Light flooded his vision from a klieg and suddenly he was fourteen years old again, snot-nosed and sobbing into his sister's skirts. Seo-yeon just rubbed his back slowly, whispering calming words like 'it's going to be okay' and 'I'll protect you', but that just made him shake harder as heavy footfalls echoed against corrugated metal and concrete walls.

Massive silhouettes casting long shadows that oozed across the ground like tar from the devil's hooves himself and Jae raised his head, blinking and squinting against the the harsh blue florescent bulb covered with crisscrossed wires and fat black mosquitoes.

"Ji-ho, when they open the door, I want you to run."

Run? There were about five men in total, all of them older. Faster. Stronger. They were never going to get out. So, the cage door swang open and Jae merely froze like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi hurtling towards it at ninety miles an hour. Then his sister was gone- Wrenched from his grasp, dangling like a dead rabbit over the the shoulder of a heavily tattooed man, all ivory teeth gleaming in the dark. He tried to call out to her, but no sound could escape his throat as ice cold fear trickled through each branch of veins splintering through his body.

Kid's not even putting up a fight

Fuckin' pissant crybaby

CowardCowardCoward

You know what's going to happen to her, right

And you still did NOTHING

If she were still alive, she'd be...

Jae slammed his hands over his ears, anguish seeping through his bones straight down to the marrow. His head felt like it had been cleaved into with an icepick, stabbing straight down into his skull to stir around the soft grey matter. Everything about it felt... wrong. Indescribably so. A violation of his mind and memories, feeling someone's noxious and oppressive presence so intimately entwined with his own- a form of rape that he'd somehow never managed to suffer through, at least not like this. Never like this. It was oozing through his entire being, seeping into deep vulnerable places- Wounds that he'd long thought healed over, or at least had a bandage slapped over it to staunch the emotional bleeding.

Was he laughing, or was he sobbing?

Jae managed to find a kernel of anger rising up like bile and focused on that, enameling himself around it like an oyster renders sand into a pearl.

"Get OUT!" he finally managed to scream with every fiber of his being, pushing back against whatever fucked up ability had forced it's way in. The process twisted his intestines into a knotted mess, coughing up saliva and bile as he scraped and clawed at the ground, convulsing almost violently as he felt it finally pull back, dragging sticky against his inner thoughts as it left.

#◈ five fingers two black hooves [ic] #◈ WRITING #stagnantmako #puke mention tw #Jae: welp I hope that we never do that again ever

[monstersmade]

038. — Crack my muse’s head against a wall. - dealers choice

 VIOLENT ACTION STARTERS

The blow hits hard and fast, and its all Kadaj can do to keep his grip on his blade. Slitted eyes are wide with shock and.. Enjoyment? A hunger for battle, for new experiences. Rarely could he be hit, rarer still could someone make him hurt. It was fun, it was good.

He didn't recognise this beast, did not feel that familiar unfamiliar call that was the memories of 'him'. If he'd ever had anything to do with Sephiroth, it had been brief.

A laugh bubbled out of his throat as he leapt back, grounding himself to readjust his grip on the Souba. His legs started to leak out into black threads - like heavy mist. Ready to dissipate if needed.

"What a r e you?" Came the question, but with no malice or hate. It was pure curiosity, perhaps kinship? Strange creatures meeting in darkness.

#i pretend i do not see the timeline #i just think the remnants should meet the tsviets #stagnantmako #I am the sickness. [IC. Kadaj]

[nazorneku]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀 ?

ivory lace, marble, china dishes, doves, paper, bones, vanilla shakes. your essence is ivory: you are a piece of history, sturdy and eternal. others believe you to be gentle; they don't see the pressure that is threatening to crack you. you seek control and organize your life into rows. you are the overseer. you are the porcelain. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of grey, noir, pearl, and ashen, who share the pressure you put on yourself. you are also drawn to the expressive rose and lilac, who will help you grow and learn that things will be okay even if they don't go right. however, you may struggle to get along with the indulgent personalities of sky and apricot who need too much stimulation and decadence.  

hickory felled oak, brass, sunken ships, olive pits, graphic shirts, splinters, dark rooms. your essence is hickory: your intensity brews beneath your sensitive and melancholy exterior. you lose yourself in the ideal of how things should be rather than how they are; reality seems to disappoint you. you craft together your identity out of pieces of others' that have inspired you. you are the cobbler. you are the shaper. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of chiffon, ashen, umber, and noir, who share your aspirations of a better future. you are also drawn to the vibrant amethyst and bronze, who will help you grow and learn to appreciate your own happiness. however, you may struggle to get along with the aggressive personalities of indigo and garnet who are stubborn about their own perspectives.

marigold roller skates, crayons, golden pheasants, sunrises, corduroy pants, sunflower fields, warm summer days. your essence is marigold: you tackle problems head-on and take no prisoners. your biggest pride is the fruits of your labor; you surround yourself with your accomplishments and the people who you can make happy. productive and willful, you cannot ignore something once you've committed yourself to it. you are the strongheart. you are the warrior. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of peach, honey, gold, and amber, who share your love for discovery and ambition. you are also drawn to the astute souls garnet and hickory, who will help you grow and learn to commit yourself to things for the longterm. however, you may struggle to get along with the heedless personalities of amethyst and moss who don't understand your need to champion.

tagged by: @knghted tagging: @aetheryic , @scarletrotted , @endweapon , @stagnantmako , @box-of-characters , @xkuja , @psychobind , @chasersglow , @reasoncore , @memovia , @resolutepath

#Ⓦ : introspection ( wuzhao ) #Ⓥ : introspection ( vincent ) #Ⓔ : introspection ( estinien ) #[ sighs and lies on the cold floor ] #[ i see what you did there— some lines are such a direct slap‚ v pointed and precise and i hate it here ] #[ also im v tired and eepy‚ i will never leave my house again ]

[ceaselxss]

He's unsurprised by the resistance; doesn't even blink in the face of it. No, Nero was easy enough to read for the moment - another broken down by ShinRa's oppression, too powerful for ShinRa's liking and shackled. They all had their shackles.

Tseng sits down across from him and rests his chin in his hand, thinking. "But you must be feeling discomfort yourself; your hair is an awful mess and it would tug and weigh you down."

With his other hand he touched his own hair, the pieces pulled down across his shoulder...

"I allow large amounts of freedom when it comes to appearance with one key factor; you must look presentable. As Turks - because you are one of us now - we need to stand as a united force."

@stagnantmako | x

#stagnantmako

[sadistpet]

" are you gonna help me clean it up or not ? "

his laughter is like shattered glass scattering across the floor. light, beautiful, and yet serving as nothing more than an indication of danger. he giggles into the back of his hand, fingers still wielding the bloodied scalpel in their gloved grasp. the lifeless body of their former captive - another spy, no doubt - hangs uselessly from the wrists in the middle of the torture chamber, nigh turned inside out from the major's sadistic games.

he always gets so vicious when the colonel is away. and the grin splitting his face is only proof of how much he loves it.

" me ? " ivan manages through hiccupped laughter. " oh, no ! no, no, no. i don't clean messes. i make them. "

with a spring in his step he crosses the room, standing before his comrade with eyes just a fraction too wide. predatory. glutton as he is, he clearly has not yet had his fill. insatiable boy with gore in his teeth. his voice is drawn out, soft and sweet and light on the ears and heavy on the head, like the distant pressure of a rising thunderstorm.

" that's what subordinates like you are for. " with unhurried purpose, and unyielding eye contact, he raises his glinting weapon between them -- and with a swift release, lets it clatter noisily to the floor. " get to it, would you ? "

blood prompts.

#HES SO ANNOYIIIIING HE CANT BE NICE TO ANYONE EVER #he really said no <3 like boy. #g: ¦ ❝ in character. ❞ #g: ¦ ❝ answered. ❞ #v: ¦ ❝ v. mgs3. ❞ #stagnantmako

[ofdeference]

@stagnantmako asked: Oh, pitiful shadow cloaked in darkness, Thine actions cause men pain and suffering. Thy soul drowns in thy sins.... How would you like to see what death is like?

That which he brings to others by his hand or not? A fitting justice to taste it himself. To know what hells he unleashes on the unwitting unwilling. He would deserve nothing less, would he not?

Muddied pools drift skyward to behold the vast emptiness above them. There are stars up there, somewhere, he's told. Maybe one day he'll find them again.

"Hands to yourself." Not yet...but maybe...soon. And yet-

"...what's...it like?" Is there peace? As he fills his lungs with the acrid bite of a cigarette, he exhales a thickening cloud as choking as the fog around them. The rooftop is dull and empty and their heels crunch in the gravel. Nero could shove him off the top and be done. No one would think it an accident, but no one would dare accuse him. Still, Tseng is not afraid.

He hopes his death is excruciating. Proof he yet lived, he existed, he felt something.

#stagnantmako #. . . #I'm... #What is this... #What have you done to my boy.

[bitterarcs]

I'm something of a masochist would never fall from lips with the same adamant energy used to deny that he was no true sadist, but work revolving in both jungles spoke for themselves. How many times had he delighted in the eyes rolled, eyes crossed expression of a captive as deft fingers unwound the nerves of pain response. Equally, how many times had he sat calmly as a needle easily slipped through his own tender flesh — far too few instances, at least those in a sterile environment. In his youth, children were all too eager to take control of a impoverished and chaotic surrounding by marking themselves as unique.

Back alley tattoos and piercings, the latter created by actual metal piercings used to jab holes or any equally sharp and thin instrument, such as safety pins. Not much safety there. Not much threat until infection set it. Reno had been cut plenty of times, but it wasn't until he saved up the gil to have his lobe pierced in a clean environment that he dedicated himself to carrying a wound. It was truly a wound then a decorated scar. The red head did not know what created that impulsive. It could have been genuine masochism for all he knew. Identity. If blazing scarlet hair, bright eyes, and a loud mouthy did not scream uniqueness, he spoke it with piercings and tattoos.

When Reno was bored, actually bored, he expended a tremendous amount of time in the debate of getting more piercings. How many and where. Fingers pulled apart the seamed edges of his shirt to admire a pink pierced nipple, and the visual of himself produced other ideas. Ultimately, it came down to the matter of being a Turk. Professionalism — exposed chest and outlandish manner of speaking already defied ShinRa's uptight code. No, it wasn't that. It was about safety. As skilled of a fighter he was, he already risked a tremendous amount by having one piercing. How easy for an opponent to tug on the metal link like a shiny teet and rip. The damage would be minimal. Worse could happen. However it was a tactical disadvantage that did not simmer well in the mind.

There was nothing wrong with one ear piercing. Nothing wrong at all. Then a curious gaze was raptured by the glimmering jewelry of all of Rude's piercings, as it always tended to do, and his own ear suddenly felt bare. His bald partner pulled it off exceptionally well. Just as fingers readily touched the metal bar running through his nipple, fingers, too, fondled the shell of his ear with some form of longing. Reno has been torn in two on the matter, yet a nasty bar fight typically proved the remedy. So maybe . . maybe it did boil down to the pain, and his body's fondness for it. Then again, when pain subsided, there was no denying the beauty of a handsome man adorned in metal.

  135. — needles / piercings @stagnantmako

#[ ⁰⁰⁵ ; reading your confessions live on air ] #stagnantmako #[ ⁰⁰⁴ ; EXPOSING THE WIRES IN MY HEAD ]

[sanguinepeccatorum]

@stagnantmako || LIKED for a STARTER

"I've been searching for you." His voice, quiet and deep, emanates from his chosen position within the shadows - a habit of lurking out of sight seeming to continue even now. Sanguine eyes watch, scrutinising every dainty movement, every possible suggestion of thought; the situation betwixt them could turn explosive, or it could not - the uncertainty hanging in the air as weighty as Vincent's own heart.

"I've just a few questions for you, if you are amenable?" He knew so little about Deepground, their reasoning, their occurrence; and while Vincent knew that the vulgarity of Hojo knew no bounds, he didn't know how much further into madness he had sank when creating those within the abysmal depths. That in which Vincent had suffered had been terrible enough - the memories scarring - but he had only been the beginning - - - he couldn't imagine what the Tsviets had gone through.

Mayhap probing such sensitivities was idiotic - one may have accused Vincent of agitating an already difficult situation - but he saw it as reaching out, from someone of whom understood to a degree.

"How much do you know of your creation?"

[honorisen]

@stagnantmako​ 🙼 starters.

“Ugh, you definitely look like you’ve seen better days-” 

The comment was out before Zack could even stop himself -- but then again, he wasn’t even sure if the other could’ve heard him from where he’d stopped either. Zack wasn’t normally this cautious, but there was just...something about the atmosphere of the moment that had him keeping his distance. 

“You look like you’ve been down here awhile, haven’t you?”

#stagnantmako #❰ v: remake ❱ #[ that aura zack feels is definitely part weiss' judgement in the background #lmao #but hey hopefully this works! ]